“You’re gonna pay now, you son of a bitch,” Tuttle sneered, shooting at a window and shattering the glass.
• Chapter Seven •
Caleb handed a rifle to James as the boy came scrambling down from the loft.
“What is it, Pa?”
“Somebody is stampeding the herd! Stay near the door and don’t be afraid to use that rifle if somebody you don’t know tries to get in here.”
“Hey, Indian, come on out,” Hank Tuttle shouted then, riding hard past Caleb’s cabin and firing wildly through the windows.
“Stay against the wall, James,” Caleb ordered, ducking down.
“Caleb! James!” Sarah shouted from the bedroom.
“Stay there, Sarah,” Caleb shouted. “And stay down out of the way.”
“What is it? What’s happening?”
“Someone’s trying to steal the herd. I’ve got to get outside.”
“Pa, there’s too many of them!”
“I got lots of whiskey, Indian,” came the voice again from outside.
Caleb inched toward the window, peering out at a form in the darkness and wondering where Cale and Jess were.
“You’ll want to get drunk like your relatives once all your horses are gone.”
James listened with even more burning hatred and humiliation. It was happening again, someone giving them trouble because they were Indian.
“Sounds like Hank Tuttle.”
“Who’s that, Pa?”
“He’s a whiskey trader I had a run-in with at the fort once. The son of a bitch went and got himself some men to help him. Trouble is, I can’t tell for sure how many. I’ve got to get outside. I’ll go out a back window.”
“Pa, what if they try to get in?”
“You just shoot at anything that moves. That thing will get off ten shots without reloading, and you know how to use it. Anyone gets in this house, they’ll be close enough that you can’t miss.”
Caleb darted away then, moving through the bedroom. “Stay out of sight, Sarah,” he said, heading for the window.
“Caleb, don’t go out there!”
“I have to. James is in the other room with one of the repeaters. You’ll be all right. Lock this window soon as I go out.”
The window opened by hinges at the top. Caleb pushed it out and disappeared with all the stealth of the Indian he was. Sarah quickly closed and locked the window, then moved to the outer room to crouch down near James.
“Don’t worry, Mother. Nobody will get inside.”
“I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about your father and what’s happening over at Lynda’s. And if your father loses those horses . . .” She closed her eyes, fighting tears.
“It’s that whiskey trader Pa had words with last year,” James mumbled, furious.
Two shots came through the window then and Sarah screamed and crouched lower. James shoved the barrel of his rifle through the window and fired twice.
Outside, Caleb darted to the corner of the cabin, seeing in the moonlight that men were breaking down the corral he had built for the horses he intended to sell to Colonel Kearny at Bent’s Fort the next day. They were shooting and yipping, stampeding the horses out of the corral and toward the cabin. He had no time to wonder where Cale and Jess might be, sure only that they were somewhere close.
The horses thundered past the cabin and Caleb took aim, getting off three shots and felling a man with each one, glad for the moon’s bright light. In the distance he heard more shots. That would be Jess. Remaining Tuttle men kept the herd running, and as they ran the horses off into the darkness, even more men suddenly rode out from behind outbuildings, heading for Caleb’s cabin.
Caleb took aim just as someone rode past from the other direction, yipping in a familiar Cheyenne war cry. Caleb fired at the oncoming men, realizing the other rider had to be Cale.
“Cale, be careful,” Caleb shouted to his grandson, who headed right for the intruders, fire spitting from the end of his own repeating rifle. With his and Caleb’s own onslaught of bullets, more Tuttle men fell. Like a true warrior, Cale rode right into the midst of them and then suddenly fell to the side of his horse so that those who shot back at him only missed, wounding another of their own men.
Cale hung from the side of his horse until the animal thundered right through the middle of Tuttle men and beyond. By then the seven or eight men left were close to the cabin. Caleb raised his rifle but froze when he heard Sarah cry out his name in terror. Then he heard a gunshot from inside the cabin.
He inched around the corner toward the front of the cabin. “Sarah! James!” he called out.
“Give it up, Sax,” came a voice from inside. “Give it up or they’re both dead.”
The rest of the men neared the cabin, and Caleb resisted an urge to fire at them. Somehow Tuttle had gotten into the cabin! Caleb couldn’t take the risk that the man meant what he said about killing James and Sarah. What had happened? It should have been an easy shot for James.
He heard the door creak open. “Come around the front where we can get a look at you, Sax,” came Tuttle’s voice again. The man turned up the wick of an outdoor lantern that hung near the door, already lit. “Come around real easy and put down your weapon, else you’ll be minus a wife and a son.”
Caleb lowered his rifle, cautiously stepping around to the narrow wooden porch of the cabin. Tuttle stood there waiting, his own rifle pointed directly at Caleb while the rest of his men gathered close, remaining on their horses.
“Did Jim and the others get off all right with the horses, Joe?” Tuttle asked, keeping his rifle on Caleb.
“Sure did. They’ll bring a pretty piece down in Mexico.”
Tuttle nodded, grinning. “So will the women.” He looked Caleb up and down. “I won’t ask you again, Sax. Put down that rifle.”
“Pa,” James yelled from inside. “Pa, the gun jammed!” The boy sounded near tears. “The gun jammed, Pa. They hurt Mother.”
“Shut your mouth, kid,” someone growled.
Caleb’s jaw flexed in unbearable anger. “What the hell do you want, Tuttle? You’ve got the horses, so why don’t you just get the hell out of here?”
Tuttle laughed lightly. “You’d like me to leave it at that, wouldn’t you, Sax?” The man glanced at one of his men. “Darryl, go on inside and get the woman. Be easy with her. And tell Billy to get the boy out here.” His dark eyes flashed with victory as he held them on Caleb. “ ’Pears like your woman is some wounded. Had a little confusion inside when we went to get her. We’ll have to fix her up before we sell her off to the Mexicans. I don’t reckon my men will mind strippin’ her down to take out the bullet first.” He snickered again.
Caleb felt rage building inside him. The attack had been so quick, and there were so many of them. He couldn’t afford to pay the extra men he needed to help watch his land and horses. Now this. Sarah! What had happened to Sarah!
His only hope was Jess and Cale. He prayed they would stay out of sight. The one called Darryl dismounted and went inside the cabin, while Caleb carefully laid down his rifle. From inside the cabin he could hear scuffling, James cursing someone to leave him and his mother alone.
“You’d better kill me now, Tuttle, if you’ve laid a hand on my wife and son,” Caleb hissed. “Otherwise, no matter where you go, I’ll find you, and by God you’ll die slower than any man has ever died!”
Tuttle chuckled. “That boy of yours inside had a little trouble with his gun. He raised his rifle to shoot me, but low and behold, it didn’t fire. Mine did—only your woman jumped up to protect her son and she took the bullet instead.”
Caleb stiffened with rage and terror, and one of Tuttle’s men dragged a screaming, kicking James out the door.
“Fights just like a wildcat.” The man laughed. “Must be the Indian in him.” The man gave James a solid punch to the face, knocking the boy backward down the steps. “Pour some whiskey on him, Joe.” The man laughed again. “Long as he’s got Indian blo
od, I reckon he likes the stuff. Might as well get him started on it. It’ll help kill the pain he’s gonna feel when he comes around.”
The one called Joe took a bottle of whiskey from his gear and uncorked it, pouring it over James, who coughed and rolled over, putting his arms over his head. Caleb’s mind swirled with indecision, unbridled fury welling in his soul at the sight of his abused son, a fury magnified when a second Tuttle man came from inside the cabin carrying Sarah. Caleb moved toward her, but Tuttle jammed his rifle barrel into Caleb’s chest.
“Stay right there, Indian. She’s goin’ with us. She’s worth a lot of money to us, if we can keep her alive.”
Caleb watched in helpless fury as the man with Sarah handed her to the one called Joe, who set her in front of him, hanging on to her limp body to keep her from falling off the horse. There was blood on the front of her nightgown near her left shoulder.
“This will learn you not to mess with me and my whiskey business, Sax. Now you know I’ve got a long memory, and I’m gonna make you sorry you messed with me. I’m here to pay you back for stickin’ your nose in where it don’t belong. ’Course we’ll have to mess you up some first—make sure you’re in too bad a shape to follow us right away. While you’re healin’, you can think about your woman, lyin’ naked while we take that bullet out of her—and the fine gold she’ll bring us when we take her to Mexico, if she ain’t too abused by us before we get her there. And that pretty daughter of yours will give my men much pleasure!”
They all snickered, as James groaned and got to his knees. In the distance Caleb could hear Lynda, fighting and screaming wildly, the men trying to bring her over cursing vehemently. Lynda Sax Purnell was not a woman who would go down easily, but with three men dragging her toward Caleb’s cabin, the fight was in vain.
Caleb quickly counted as the men’s attention was drawn to his beautiful half-breed daughter. Seven on horseback in front of the cabin, plus Hank Tuttle standing near the door. Apparently everyone had come out of the cabin, and the others had ridden off with the horses. He could find them and the horses later. All that mattered now was Sarah and Lynda and James. The three men who were dragging Lynda into the little group made a total of eleven.
“Here’s the young one, Hank,” one of the men shouted. “She’s naked under this here gown. She’s gonna bring us a fortune, if she don’t kill us first.”
They all laughed.
“Any others over there?” Tuttle yelled.
“Just a little boy. We tied him to his bed.”
It had been a long time since Caleb Sax felt this much rage. Hank Tuttle would know the taste of revenge! Poor little John—only six—tied to a bed. The boy must be terrified!
Tuttle’s gleaming dark eyes turned back to Caleb. “Where’s your daughter’s man, Sax?”
Sarah groaned Caleb’s name and Joe gave her a jerk, telling her to shut up.
“Mother,” James moaned, trying to get to his feet. One of Tuttle’s men kicked and knocked him back down.
“My daughter’s husband is out there somewhere, Tuttle,” Caleb growled. “And so is my grandson Cale. Maybe you think you’ve won, but you aren’t off my land yet, you bastard!”
“Well, with you walkin’ in front of me and my rifle aimed right at the back of your head, I reckon they’ll hold back till we’re off your land. Besides, we’ve got both your women with us now.”
One of Tuttle’s men slapped Lynda hard, knocking her to the ground. He put a knee in her back and began tying her hands behind her back while another tied her ankles. They hoisted her up, throwing her belly-down over a horse. One of them mounted up with her, slapping her on the bottom. “This one is gonna be more fun than a house full of whores,” he joked.
Caleb forced back black anger, struggling to think clearly. Apparently they had not got Jess or Cale. They were his only hope.
“Stu, Joe, Billy, you three stay close right here,” Tuttle said, indicating the two who held the women and a third man. “The rest of you spread out. Find the young one’s husband—and find the grandson.”
“Somebody rode right through us, Hank—a full-blooded Indian if I ever saw one,” one of them spoke up. “Got Ted and Trace, then dropped over the side of his horse like a shadow. He won’t be easy to find.”
“Find him, goddamn it,” Hank barked. “He’s the grandson. He’s just a kid, you idiot!”
“Who are you calling a kid,” came a voice near Tuttle.
From the comer of his eye Tuttle could see the barrel of a rifle protruding from the doorway of the cabin, pointed at his side. Black fear moved through him as though ice were moving through his veins. He heard the hammer of the rifle cock.
“Put the gun down, white eyes! It is you and your men who are the prisoners now, not us. And tell your man to put my mother and my grandmother down—gently.”
There was a moment of intense indecision as all the Tuttle men still had their guns. James finally got to his feet, staring at the doorway.
“Cale,” he murmured.
“You better do what the boy says,” came another voice from behind Tuttle’s men. “We might not be able to get all of you, but we can come damned close.” It was Jess. “Any of you want to bet on which ones get it and which ones don’t?”
Hank fingered his rifle restlessly. It was still aimed at Caleb Sax, whom he hated. “You two put down your guns,” he warned. “Else Caleb Sax is dead. I’ll blow his guts out right here!”
“Go ahead,” Cale told the man. “He’d rather die than let you ride off with my grandmother. Either way, you’ll still be dead, Tuttle.”
“Along with a few more of you,” Jess added from the shadows.
Caleb grinned wickedly. “They’re right, Tuttle. Go ahead and shoot. As long as I know you’ll be killed, it doesn’t matter much to me. All that matters is my wife and daughter. You’d better do what they say.”
“The hell with this,” one of Tuttle’s men swore, giving his horse a kick and turning it. Jess fired and the man fell. The shot and the man’s stumbling, screaming horse caused the other horses to rear and turn in circles.
Cale thrust his gun upward into Tuttle’s to knock it away, afraid if he shot Tuttle point-blank the man’s own gun would go off and hit his grandfather. Tuttle’s gun fired into the air, and Caleb landed on the man at almost the same moment, knocking him down the steps.
More shots were fired, and James grabbed for his mother, hanging on to her while the man holding her kicked at him. The man finally let go of her, intent on just getting away. James hung on to her and lowered her gently to the ground.
“Mother,” he wept, bending over her.
Jess had already fired several more shots, one of them downing the man who held Lynda, and now he was desperately grabbing at the startled, frightened horse that held her. Its rider had fallen off and the animal was turning in circles, whinnying and kicking. Jess managed to get hold of Lynda’s shoulders as she screamed his name, terrified the animal would bolt her off and trample her. Jess grabbed her off in strong arms, falling to the ground and rolling away from the bucking horse, which finally ran off.
By then six more of Tuttle’s men lay dead or wounded, some shot by Jess before he grabbed Lynda, and some shot by Cale. The rest rode off into the darkness. Jess quickly whisked out a pocketknife and cut the ties on Lynda’s wrists and ankles.
Tuttle, although strong and vicious in his own right, had no chance against an enraged Caleb Sax. Over and over Caleb landed a foot or a fist into the man, grabbing him and hitting him again before Tuttle could get his breath to fight back. Blood poured down Caleb’s face from the graze of a wild bullet, but he seemed unaware he had even been wounded in the melee. At the moment he was aware only of Hank Tuttle. He held the man’s limp body by the hair of the head.
“Cale,” he growled.
The boy ran up to his grandfather. “Grandfather, you’re wounded! Did I do wrong?”
“No,” Caleb panted. “You did just fine. Get your grandmother i
nto the house and give me your hunting knife.”
“Yes, sir.” Cale whisked a knife from his belt and handed it to Caleb.
“Have Lynda help Sarah. I’ll be right there.” He dragged Tuttle’s body off into the darkness.
Lynda stood torn, her mother lying on the ground, her little son still tied up over at their own cabin. She looked helplessly at Jess, who quickly embraced her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m all right,” she assured him. “Just—just so damned mad.”
“What about John?”
“They didn’t hurt him.”
Jess closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. “Everything will be all right,” he told her. “I’ll get your mother inside and you stay with her—get things ready.” He looked over at James, who remained kneeling near Sarah. Cale was there, kneeling on the other side of her, holding Sarah’s hand. “James, go to our cabin and get John. They’ve got the poor little guy tied up over there. Go get him and come back here with him.”
James looked up at Jess, devastation on his face. “They shot her. They shot my mother, and it’s my fault.”
“It’s nobody’s fault, James. Go on now. Poor little John must be scared to death. I’ll get your mother into the house. Get right back here with John. Your father will need some help. We’re got to get that bullet out of your mother.”
He gave Lynda one more reassuring hug, then walked with her over beside Sarah. He knelt down and took Sarah up in his arms, looking at a still-weeping James. “Go on, now. Go get John.”
“How bad is my grandmother?” Cale asked.
Jess looked down at the growing bloodstain on Sarah’s gown. “I don’t know yet. Right now let’s just get her inside.” He walked past the two boys with Sarah, and Lynda hurried behind them. Cale and James faced each other. One side of James’s face was already turning purple, and he reeked of whiskey, his long underwear covered with mud from the mixture of whiskey Tuttle’s men had poured on him and the dust he had landed in.
“James, are you all right?” Cale asked in genuine concern.
James gave him a dark look, stiffening then when a man’s screams came from somewhere in the darkness. Caleb Sax was getting his Indian revenge, making sure his enemy suffered mightily before he died.
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