“How long will you be gone?”
Tom sighed, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It’s hard to say. A couple of weeks, I suppose, not much longer than that.”
She daringly put her other hand over his. “I will miss you.”
Tom glanced at Luisa, who was not looking, then leaned forward and gently kissed Juanita on the lips. He lingered there a moment, lightly moving his tongue over her mouth, wanting to remember the sweet taste of it, wishing he could part her lips and lay her back, kiss her until she was totally helpless beneath him.
It seemed to Juanita that a hot streak of fire moved through her insides in that very moment, and her eyes remained closed for a moment when he left her mouth.
“I love you, Juanita,” Tom said in a near whisper.
She opened her eyes and smiled, but trembled with wonderful new desires, her eyes tearing from the joy in her soul. “I love you, too,” she whispered. She blushed deeply then and looked at her lap. “I have wanted to say it for so long. I think I loved you the first time you rode onto my father’s ranch looking for work. But I must seem such a child to you.”
He reached out with his other hand and lightly touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “You are not a child, Juanita. You are a beautiful woman in the making. When I marry you, I will make you a full woman, and you will never have to be afraid of me, mi querida.”
She clamped her hands tighter around his own, meeting his eyes again, smiling through tears. “I believe you.”
He smiled back, the wonderful, handsome smile that made her legs feel like pudding. “We will be together, Juanita, and soon. I will do everything in my power to make it so.”
She nodded.
“Juanita, we must leave now,” Luisa repeated, finally rising.
Juanita continued to hold Tom’s eyes. “Have a safe trip. I will pray for you.”
He squeezed her hand. “You stay close to the house. Stay away from Emanuel Hidalgo. He has been giving me trouble and is very jealous. I don’t trust that man, but there is nothing he can do as long as you stay close to your father. If I did not feel sure of your safety, I would not even go.”
Her heart swelled with love. He would surely die for her if necessary. Of that she had no doubt.
“You know full well how Father watches me,” she said then, laughing lightly.
Tom rolled his eyes. “I most certainly do.”
They rose, and Tom squeezed her hand once more, wanting to hold her. But Luisa was watching. “I leave early in the morning,” he told her. “I probably won’t see you before I leave, so I will just have to dream about you until I return. When I come back, I will make those dreams come true, Juanita. I promise you that.”
“Come, Juanita.” Luisa gently took hold of her arm. Luisa liked Tom, but she also liked her job. She was well aware of the love Juanita felt for the man and would have liked nothing better than to let them be together for as long as they wished. But she had her orders.
“Adiós, Tom,” Juanita told him, reluctantly letting go of his hand.
Tom nodded, feeling an odd apprehension as she left him, a sixth sense that something was amiss. He glanced around at the shadows, always feeling that Emanuel Hidalgo was watching. But Emanuel had been gone a couple of days, and Tom wondered where he was and what he was up to. No one seemed to know.
He watched Juanita, studying the tiny waist and the way her dress swayed as she walked, envisioning how she must look naked . . . like a goddess, he was sure. At least he knew he could go away and not have to worry about her safety. This was a big ranch with a lot of men. Hidalgo could not get near her. And maybe the man wasn’t even coming back. Maybe he had decided that if he couldn’t have her, he would rather not be around her at all. It was a nice thought, but something about Hidalgo’s pride told Tom the man would not give up that easily. As far as Tom was concerned, he could not marry Juanita soon enough, not just because he wanted and loved her, but because Emanuel Hidalgo would realize once and for all that his dreams of having Juanita for himself were hopeless.
Caleb drew his Appaloosa to a halt, ten Cheyenne warriors with him. They were all young and eager, angry that the soldiers had all but put a stop to their normal summer migration because of the Mexican war and Indian attacks along the Santa Fe Trail. The Southern Cheyenne insisted they were being blamed for atrocities committed by other Indians, but their complaints were for the most part ignored. The younger men camped around Bent’s Fort were restless, happy to help the elder warrior Blue Hawk find and bring back his stolen horses.
Caleb sensed the wild anger these young men felt over recent soldier campaigns against the Cheyenne. They would not stay put long, of that he was sure. They felt this land belonged to them, and they would continue to use it and to raid settlers who intruded upon it. But when they broke loose again, Cale would most likely be among them. His grandson would ride off someday for good, never to return. And a part of Caleb Sax would go with him.
One of the young men pointed. “Scout,” he said in his own tongue, then signed the word.
Caleb nodded, waiting as two riders approached. Cale and another had left the day after the raid on Caleb’s ranch, immediately setting out to track down the culprits who had stolen Caleb’s horses. Much as he hated to leave Sarah, Caleb waited only two more days. Time was essential if he was to get the horses to Colonel Kearny before the soldiers left for Santa Fe. Sarah understood and was doing much better than he had expected. So far there was no infection, but Caleb was still worried and anxious to get back. He had been gone three days, and they had ridden nearly fifty miles north, following an easy-to-read trail left by Cale and his friend, who from a distant rise had spotted Caleb and the others finally coming. Now they rode close, looking excited.
“We have found them, Grandfather,” he said victoriously. He signed to the others present, showing many horses, many men. They all nodded.
“Hopo! Hopo!” one of them said excitedly.
“Wait,” Caleb told him, making the sign for halt. “We have to be careful,” he said in the Cheyenne tongue. “We will hide and wait until dark. They don’t expect Indians to come at dark.” He turned to Cale. “How many men are there?”
“Maybe six. I heard them arguing what to do with the horses. They have been waiting for the one called Hank Tuttle to show up. Now they know he is not coming.” He grinned. “If they knew what you did to him, they would be running fast right now with their tails between their legs.” He repeated the statement to the others in their own tongue, and the young men snickered, feeling great respect for Cale’s grandfather.
“Do you think they’ll wait for one more day?” Caleb asked him.
Cale nodded. “I was close enough to hear them talk. They are so stupid! They did not even know I was there. I could have taken two or three of them right then and there.”
The boy sat proud and straight. Ever since the night of the raid, when he rode right into the outlaws like a true warrior, he felt more manly. His story had drawn approval from his peers, and more than ever he wished to stay with them and become one of them.
Caleb motioned for them to follow him a few yards back down into a narrow ravine where they could not be spotted. “We will camp here until the sun is down,” he told them, dismounting and offering all of them some tobacco. “I am grateful for your help.”
They tethered their horses and then took the tobacco eagerly, some chewing on it, others packing some into long pipes they drew from their parfleches, intending to smoke it. Cale’s friend Ten Stars asked for some whiskey.
“No,” Caleb told him. “I didn’t bring any with me. The firewater is bad, Ten Stars. It makes a man weak and do stupid things.”
Ten Stars shook his head. “It gives him power.” He held out a fist. “Makes him strong and brave.”
“It only seems that way. Why do you think so many white men try to sell it to you? It’s because it makes you weak and easier to defeat in battle. It turns warriors into women. I go
t into all this trouble because I stopped a white man from selling whiskey at the fort. Why would I put myself and my family in danger doing that if I didn’t truly believe the whiskey was bad for you?”
Ten Stars looked over at Cale. “He tells you true,” Cale told him. “My grandfather cares about the Cheyenne.”
Ten Stars shrugged and threw up his hands. “What is left for us? They do not let us ride and hunt as we used to do. The whiskey makes us feel good, takes away the sadness in our hearts and makes us happy.”
“It’s a false happiness, Ten Stars,” Caleb told him. “Don’t let the whiskey traders fool you. They are your enemy. Remember that.”
Ten Stars plopped down and pulled two leather pouches from his own parfleche, dipping a finger into one of them. He smeared red marks across his cheeks. “Tonight we will be warriors,” he muttered.
“Kill only if you have to. The soldiers know you’re all with me to help me get back my horses. That’s all. If you kill these men deliberately, take any scalps, you’ll all be in trouble and so will I Kearny couldn’t spare any men to help me, so I brought all of you. Don’t deceive me. Don’t make the Cheyenne look bad. Your chiefs are struggling to make the soldiers and the government believe it’s not the Cheyenne who are making so much trouble lately. I think our numbers are enough to scare them off, especially now that they’re restless over Tuttle’s not showing up. We’ll watch the white men run away and we’ll take my horses home. There will be a reward of food and tobacco for you. I can’t afford to give you much more.”
“We are glad to have something to do,” Buffalo Boy spoke up. “It is better than sitting around that fort.”
Caleb stuffed and lit a pipe of his own. “If my woman were not hurt, I would keep going—do a little hunting with you. But I have to get back to her.”
One of them grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “How is it the warrior Blue Hawk is married to a white woman?”
Caleb puffed on the pipe for a quiet moment. “It is a long story. But her heart is as good and true as any Indian woman’s. Someday all of you will have a good woman at your side, and you will understand how I feel.”
“Is it true you once had a Cheyenne wife?” one of them asked.
Caleb felt the old pain. How many years ago had he loved and married Walking Grass? Well over thirty winters. He nodded, staring at a colorful stone that lay nearby. “She was my first wife. I was very young, hardly any older than most of you. She was the mother of my oldest son, Tom.” He eyed all of them, grinning inwardly at the way they all stared at him. Indians loved to tell and to listen to stories. Many stories had been told about the warrior Blue Hawk, and he didn’t doubt that by now they had been exaggerated to the point of making him sound superhuman. “You would all like Tom. He is very Indian, like Cale. And he is handsome because his mother was so beautiful.”
There was a moment of silence.
“It is because of her that you rode against the Crow,” another spoke up then, “is it not? The Crow killed your Cheyenne wife?”
Caleb nodded, amazed at how the pain of that day could still stab at him as though it had happened only yesterday. His blue eyes glazed colder with remembered hatred. “Hatred and vengeance were great in my heart, so great that I hardly knew what I was doing. I was one man against a nation of Crows, riding out alone. But I made the mistake of hating so much that I began attacking them without first praying to the spirits for guidance. I was acting on my own and not following the signs, not listening to the spirits who guide a warrior in battle. For this I finally suffered a terrible wound that almost killed me.” He studied them individually. “Remember that. Never ride into battle without prayer and sacrifice, without your own spirit being right with Maheo, or when the signs tell you it is not the right time.”
Cale held out the blue quill necklace he wore around his neck. “Grandfather gave this to me when I was born. His own Cheyenne mother gave it to him at birth. She died, and he never knew her. It is over fifty winters old. This necklace has magic. It helped my mother find my grandmother and grandfather. It brought my family together and now it is mine. It is a special gift that will always bring me health, a gift I will one day pass on to my own son.”
Ten Stars finished painting his face for the “battle” to come. “Have you celebrated the Sun Dance,” he asked Caleb, eyeing him daringly, still a little miffed about not getting any whiskey.
Caleb met his eyes. “I have. I was about your age.”
Ten Stars slowly nodded. “One more summer. I am going to suffer the Sun Dance and so is Cale. We will be accepted then as true men, true warriors.”
Caleb glanced at Cale. This was not the time to discuss participating in the Sun Dance. He did not want to voice any protest in front of Cale’s friends. But he knew Lynda would fly into a motherly rage at the suggestion her son go through such torture.
“It is good,” he spoke up, relieving Cale with his approval. “I will be proud when Cale participates, even though I know the pain and suffering it will bring. The Sun Dance is something you will never forget. It will bring you a power and spirit that the firewater can never bring you. Through the Sun Dance you will be stronger. Your strength comes from inside, Ten Stars—from a strong spirit, a strong heart—from touching the spirits through sacrifice and pain. You will have a vision, and you will know what to do with your life.”
Caleb leaned back against a rock and closed his eyes. “Rest now—all of you. Tonight we must be quiet like the gentle winds, invisible, quick. Tonight we get back the horses.”
They all listened and obeyed. Among the Cheyenne the elders were always respected, especially when they had the reputation of Blue Hawk. It was true he lived among white men, but his heart rode with the Cheyenne, and all the old chiefs predicted that one day this Blue Hawk would return to the Cheyenne.
Sarah awoke to the touch of Caleb’s hand against her cheek. He was leaning over her, his long black hair tied to one side of his head with a blue-beaded strip of leather. She could smell the dust in his buckskin clothing and saw by more dust on his face that he had not stopped to wash or do anything else when he had gotten back. He had come straight to her.
“Caleb! Are you all right?”
He smiled softly, leaning closer. “That’s supposed to be my question. Lynda said you had a fever last night.”
“It’s gone now. I even sat up and ate a big breakfast this morning.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good.”
“Did you get the horses back? Did anyone get hurt?”
His blue eyes danced with an almost boyish excitement. “I got them. Cale and his friends had a grand time scaring off Tuttle’s men. They ran like rabbits when they heard all that war whooping and shooting. Nobody got hurt. I’m afraid I have to leave you again, but I’ll be back tonight yet. I’m going to ride on in and see if Kearny is still at the fort. It’s possible I can still sell the horses.”
She reached up to touch the creases of dust in his handsome face. “Oh, Caleb, you must be so tired. You should stay at the fort once you get there and wait till morning to come back.”
He stroked her hair gently. “No. I’ve been away long enough. I was worried sick about you. I’m just sorry you ever got hurt in the first place. You gave me a hell of a scare, Sarah Sax.”
She smiled reassuringly. “You’re the one who’s always telling me I’m stronger than I think.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling back the covers and unbuttoning her gown to pull it away from her shoulder, relieved there was only a light bloodstain on the gauze. “I’ll take a better look when I get back. We’ve got to start exercising that arm right away.” He leaned down and kissed her shoulder.
“Will I have a bad scar, Caleb?”
He struggled to hold back the renewed anger he felt at the thought of Tuttle’s shooting her. “Not too bad,” he assured her. “Besides, woman, Lord knows you have to look at enough scars on me. One little one on you isn’t going to matter much.”
“But I’m losing my youth. I hate to have a scar—”
He touched her lips. “Sarah, do you really think any of that matters to me? They could have cut your nose off and it wouldn’t change how I feel about my woman. Now get some rest. No more talk about scars or anything else. You know how beautiful you are to me.” He kissed her softly then. “I’ll be back later tonight. If you’re already asleep I’ll try not to disturb you. I’ll just crawl into bed and wrap my arms around you and go to sleep. Every time I’m away from you that’s all I can think about.”
He kissed her once more, a more possessive kiss. “Hurry back,” she whispered. He kissed her eyes, thanking the spirits that she was better.
Their eyes held for a moment. “I’m getting you out of here, Sarah. If you have a good winter, we’re going to California. I’ve thought about it more and more, and I can’t help thinking it would be good for you there.”
“Don’t get all upset over it, Caleb. I’m fine. And if we stay right here in Colorado, we’ll do just fine.”
“I don’t think so. Trade with Santa Fe is practically at a halt, and who knows when it will pick up again? And all this trouble with the Cheyenne. I don’t like any of it. Life is going to get harder here for a while, not easier, and I hate what it’s doing to you.”
She smiled lovingly, her eyes teared. “Caleb, please stop worrying so. Take those horses to the fort and get your money. We’ll talk about it when you come back.”
He kissed her once more. “How is James?”
Her eyes teared more. “I’m more worried about him than about myself. He feels so bad, Caleb. And now he’s more withdrawn and moody than ever. I feel as if it’s partly my fault.”
“No, honey, it has nothing to do with you. It’s much more than that. I talked to him the night it happened, but then I was so wrapped up in your injury and had to head out.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to him some more when I get back. You rest.”
“Is Cale all right?”
He straightened, grinning. “No sense worrying about that one. He’s just fine and full of the devil. I’m afraid we might as well not plan on seeing much of him anymore. It’s hard to let go, but I can’t help smiling when I watch him. There’s no holding that one down, Sarah.”
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