Destiny's Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  Hayden left the map and came closer. “And I’m laying odds that there will be a railroad out of St. Louis straight into that territory someday, Jim.” He set the cigar aside in an ashtray. “I want to open a store in there, and I want you to do it for me—run it for me—do everything that needs to be done to build a business. We’ll take some time to consider the best spot, but I’d be willing to bet that before you’re through I’ll have more than one store there—maybe even keep going and have a Hayden’s Mercantile opening somewhere in California. What do you say, Jim? It would be a great experience for you.”

  Never had James struggled more to keep his composure. Colorado! It was the last place he wanted to go—back to uncivilized country, Indian country. From what he read, the Cheyenne were still riding wild in Colorado, disobeying the treaty agreement, sometimes attacking settlers. He didn’t want to go back to that country—back to all the things he had deliberately left so long ago.

  He rose from his chair, walking to a window, trying to think straight. He didn’t want to disappoint Gilbert Hayden. The man treated him like a son and was now offering him a virtual merchandising empire. It was impossible to tell him so. He loved Gilbert Hayden almost as he would love a father.

  Father. He had a father, one he also loved but had deserted a long time ago. He had to think of Mr. Hayden now, and all the man had done for him. He couldn’t let his own selfish desires get in the way. Besides, it couldn’t be all that bad. Surely the place was becoming more civilized now. And a young man in his position could become very important in a new and growing territory. If that was all it took to seal this wonderful offer, why shouldn’t he go? After all, his family was all gone from Colorado now—all but Cale. But then how much chance was there that their paths would ever cross again?

  He turned, facing Hayden. “I’ll miss you, Gil. But I’ll go. It sounds exciting.” He struggled to show some enthusiasm.

  Hayden smiled almost sadly. “I’ll miss you, too. But if you’re going to be my partner, it’s going to be a real good experience for you, Jim. You can keep in touch by telegraph”—he rolled his eyes—“unless the damned Indians cut the wires. I hear they do that a lot.”

  James felt the old shame—the fear of being found out mixed with the guilt of pretending he was something he was not.

  “But don’t you worry about the Indians. I hear Colorado citizens are working very hard on ways to rid the whole territory of them.” Hayden stepped closer to James and put out his hand. “Well? Are we agreed, partner?”

  James breathed deeply to get rid of the hurt in his chest. He took the man’s hand firmly. “Agreed. I’ll never forget this, Gil. I’ll always feel indebted to you, and I promise to do everything in my power to help Hayden’s Mercantile expand even more.”

  Hayden squeezed his hand. ‘“Hayden & Sax’ you mean. I’m officially changing the name on the front of all my stores, Jim. When you open a new store out west, you call it ‘Hayden & Sax Mercantile.’”

  James could not get over the irony of it. He had left Colorado in near poverty, the very place where his parents had struggled desperately just to survive. Now their son would be going there a rich man. He wished he could share this moment with his parents, but he dared not even tell them. They might come and see him.

  He buried the old longing to see them again, as well as the terrible burden of guilt that seemed to be getting heavier. He had set his course in life and he would not go back, nor would he let his Indian blood destroy all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

  • Chapter Twenty-seven •

  Late 1857 found the Saxes in Henderson, attending a dance for that town’s new mayor, Jess Purnell. A huge barn had been cleared and decorated, a side of beef roasted, and wine was passed around freely. Seventeen-year-old John was proud of his father and had dreams of his own now of one day being the sheriff of Henderson. He was good with a gun, and he had watched his father handle men. John was taller than Jess but carried the same powerful build as his father. He was a most handsome young man, with his mother’s dark skin and hair and his mother’s and grandfather’s striking blue eyes.

  Jessica, almost ten now, still had very curly hair. It was a shining black color, and her eyes were also blue, but her skin was fair and creamy, seeming even whiter against her dark hair and lashes. She danced now with her grandfather, giggling at how Caleb had to bend over to keep a hand at her waist. Fiddles played, and Caleb and Jessica moved in circles to the music while others watched. A few women gossiped about the new mayor’s “Indian” wife and father-in-law; about the gracious and lovely white woman who was his mother-in-law. None suspected that the new mayor’s wealthy but also “Indian” brother-in-law, Tom Sax, was none other than the infamous phantom Indian who had led Los Malos and brought terror to many of the very people who watched him now. Nor did they know that yet another tragic story had birthed the love Tom Sax shared for his Mexican wife.

  That love could not be more obvious as Jess attempted to introduce Tom and Juanita and their now five children to one of the town’s more prominent businessmen. Jess and Tom had both been drinking, and introductions became a comedy as Jess held up his hand and insisted on taking care of the matter himself, challenging Tom that he could name each child and his or her age.

  Tom bowed and Juanita laughed. “Be my guest, brother-in-law,” Tom told him, his dark eyes dancing teasingly as he lined up his children. One little girl who could barely walk stood beside Juanita, clinging to her mother’s skirts, and Juanita held a very new baby in her arms.

  Jess stood back, studying each one. “Now give me a minute,” he told them, followed by helpless laughter.

  Caleb walked Jessica over to the gathering, moving to stand beside Sarah. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

  “Jess insists on naming all of Tom’s children for that man—a Mr. Mathewson, a friend of Jess’s.”

  Caleb grinned as Jess stood back, eyeing the row of Sax descendants. “Okay, okay, here goes.”

  His friend folded his arms, grinning. “I am waiting, Purnell.”

  Sarah watched Jess. He was happy. Age seemed to be good to him. He was still hard and handsome. And he had been a good husband to her Lynda. It was good to see that at least Tom and Lynda were happy and settled now. If only James and Cale could be with them. James . . . why had he never answered their letters?

  “This is Antonio Galvez,” Jess told his friend, pointing to the oldest boy. “And he is . . . uh . . . nine. Nine?” He looked at Tony, who grinned and shook his head. “I will be eight soon,” he giggled. The others laughed as Jess made a face at being wrong.

  Every one of Tom’s children was dark, a grand mixture of Mexican and Indian and that hint of white that made them all handsome boys and beautiful girls. Tom Sax had a family some men envied, but Caleb knew he deserved it. Yes, he by God deserved it.

  Tom moved behind the second child, who stood just a little shorter than his older brother. He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders from behind. “And who is this?” he asked Jess.

  “This is number two son, Ricardo Jesus. And he is three years younger than Tony, so he is five.”

  “Very good, señor,” Tom teased. He moved to the third child.

  “Andres . . . Andres . . .” Jess frowned. “I don’t remember his middle name. Hell, I’m doing good to remember their first names.” He laughed.

  The others laughed with him.

  “I am thwee yews old,” Andres spoke up, still unable to say his “r’s”. He held up his chin as though he knew everything and no one else knew anything.

  They all laughed again, and Tom moved to child number four, waiting for Jess. Jess grinned.

  “Ah, this is the first daughter. How can I forget her? This is Rosanna Marie.” Jess bent close to the chubby-cheeked and exquisitely beautiful child who clung to her mother’s skirts. “And Rosanna Marie is about two years old.”

  Tom shook his head. “You are doing better than I thought you would.”

  Je
ss folded his arms, nodding proudly. “And the one in Juanita’s arms is a new arrival—another daughter—Louise Juanita.” He turned to Tom. “There, you see?”

  Tom grinned, picking up Rosanna, who started to cry. “Jess, you amaze me.”

  “Well, actually, I told Lynda to help me remember all this before you came,” Jess admitted. It brought another round of laughter and another round of drinks, before they all moved to the picnic tables spread with every conceivable kind of homemade dish.

  Sarah held back, and Caleb turned to see her watching the children and grandchildren with tears in her eyes. He walked back to her, taking her arm. “What’s wrong, Sarah?”

  She looked up at him, smiling through tears. “Look at them, Caleb. I guess we did a few things right after all, didn’t we?” She swallowed and wiped her eyes. “They’re so happy. I just wish James and Cale could be here with us.” She met his eyes, her own tearing more. “I’m not going to ever see my James again, am I?”

  He grasped her shoulders. “Don’t do this, Sarah. There are some things in life we can do nothing about, or at least you reach a point where you’ve done all you can.”

  “But why doesn’t he answer our letters?” She sniffed, grasping the front of his shirt. “Oh, God, I know why. And it makes me sick, Caleb. I’m so sorry for what he’s doing.”

  “You’re sorry?” He walked her around behind a shed and pulled her close. “Don’t you ever, ever be sorry about anything. Whatever has happened to any of the children, or to us, it was not your fault, or even mine. You said that yourself, remember? It has taken me years to stop blaming myself. Don’t go turning it on yourself now.”

  She cried for several quiet minutes, while Caleb checked his anger at James Sax. He patted her shoulder, thinking how frail she felt in his arms.

  “I just get these fits of depression, and I can’t seem to control them, Caleb.” She pulled away and took a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, dabbing at her eyes. “And more and more I’m forgetting the most common, everyday things, yet I can remember so vividly things that happened thirty or forty years ago. It scares me.” She looked up at him, so tall and strong. “Isn’t that a sign of old age?”

  He laughed and hugged her, trying to keep the moment light. “Sarah, take a look at other women your age and then look in the mirror. You’re the prettiest woman here. Now the whole family is waiting for us.”

  Lynda came around the building looking for them, stopping short when she saw her mother crying in her father’s arms. “Mother! What’s wrong?”

  “Just having a little sentimental cry,” Caleb told their daughter. “You know how women are—they cry when they’re sad, and they cry when they’re happy. And us men have to try to figure out the difference. It’s a damned hard situation you females put us in sometimes.”

  Their eyes held. Her father’s smile did not fool Lynda. She saw the pain behind the smile, the worry, the terror. She took a deep breath and put on a smile of her own. “Oh, Mother, don’t you dare spoil this day for yourself and the rest of us. Now do come and eat. You’re much too thin anyway. Come and let all those fat old women around the picnic table envy the way you can stuff yourself and still be prettier and more slender than they could ever hope to be. Besides, a lady friend of mine wants to meet you. She knows all about you and Father, and she thinks you’re quite remarkable.”

  Sarah laughed lightly, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. “Remarkable? That’s one I’ve never heard before.” She looked up at Caleb. “How about that, Caleb Sax?” She blew her nose again. “You have a remarkable wife.”

  He nodded, smiling sadly. “Well, it really isn’t a bad description. You are a remarkable woman.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Especially in bed,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Caleb Sax!” She pushed him and walked off with Lynda, clasping her hands in joy when Lynda told her she was going to come and visit for two weeks.

  Caleb watched them walk away, his heart hurting so bad that he put a hand to his chest. Yes, quite a remarkable woman, he thought. He walked toward the picnic table, where thirteen of the people there were Saxes or married to Saxes. Sarah was right. They had done something right. Here was the proof, the seeds of their love. But some of those seeds still remained scattered. And some had been snuffed out completely and lay buried—in Texas. Their lives had moved in a wide circle, covering half this country called America. He looked up at the sun and thought of Cale and the sun stone. His own circle was not yet complete.

  James watched out the window of the stagecoach as the land became painfully familiar. Broad, empty plains moved into a sea of rolling hills that led toward the base of the snowcapped Rockies.

  This was the land he had fled and hoped never to see again. Now here he was, as though fate had dragged him back to laugh at him and torture him with memories. It was 1858. Ten years had gone by since he left. And yet it seemed on every ridge he could see his father, sitting proudly on a big horse—his long, black hair flying in the wind, his face painted, the man dressed in buckskins and adorned with weapons. He could see the thin, faint scar on Caleb’s left cheek, put there by a white man when his father was just a boy.

  Why did James always feel his father watching him? Was this what a man’s conscience did to him? Thank God his parents were at least in California. He would not have to face them.

  He sighed deeply, reminding himself what was at stake. He had to like this place, had to make it all work. He was going to a new town called Denver. The stage driver had told him Denver was just a one-street town with log buildings, but there had recently been a gold strike there, but no one was sure how profitable it would prove to be. Easterners were headed for the area, the call of gold again beckoning those who dreamed of riches. James guessed that most would find nothing but hard work and despair. But a gold rush meant growth, and James would take advantage of that growth and establish one of the first mercantiles in the area.

  He moved his handsome blue eyes again to the young woman who sat across from him. She was traveling with her mother to Colorado, where her father had already gone to establish a small bank to grubstake prospectors, an easy means of getting rich without doing the back-breaking work of actually panning and picking for gold. The young woman’s name was Willena Treat, and James thought her the prettiest young lady he had ever set eyes on. Her golden hair fell in a cascade of waves down her back, the sides of it drawn up into pretty curls on top of her head. Her big, inquisitive eyes were green, and when she smiled her lips exposed white, even teeth and provocative little dimples appeared in her cheeks.

  He already knew that Willena Treat was nineteen and well schooled. Her family had money, and she dressed beautifully. He couldn’t help but wonder how she stayed so fresh-looking on this hot, dusty trip, and he admired her courage in coming to a land still uncivilized, where she planned to start a school in Denver for the children of prospectors who had families with them. Willena had enough schooling herself to teach, and although her mother had wanted her to stay in Philadelphia where they had lived before, Willena would not hear of it. Her father loved the Rocky Mountain area and wanted to stay. He had come home and sold everything except the bank he owned, then moved his wife and daughter temporarily into a relative’s home in Philadelphia until he was more settled in Colorado. Their home would be a log house for now, but Willena’s father already had plans made and material ordered to build his family a fine brick home, or so Willena and her mother had told him.

  He liked Willena. She was not only pretty, she was smart, and very sweet. He continued his own lie about his past, but could at least tell her he was familiar with the wild West as she called it, which made for good conversation. Willena wanted to know all about it, and he could tell she looked to him with great admiration and curiosity—and there was no mistaking the physical attraction each had for the other.

  Her mother was kind and attentive and didn’t seem to mind her daughter’s talking for hours on end with James Sax. After a
ll, James Sax was co-owner of one of the most successful mercantile chains in the Midwest. Making his acquaintance could only be beneficial for her daughter.

  But James knew Willena didn’t look at it that way. She was a genuinely sweet girl. Like his father, James Sax was a good judge of people. He had learned first from Caleb Sax, then sharpened his eye through his work with customers for Hayden & Sax Mercantile. He had been too busy building his career in the last several years to think much about any woman in a permanent way. There had been a few in St. Louis, as well as enough willing ones for James to know all he needed to know about sex. Wealth and good looks certainly helped attract any woman he wanted. But he was not one to use women that way, and the young lady he spoke with now was not the kind a man toyed with. She was too sweet, too honorable. And in many ways her personality reminded him of his mother.

  “James, look!” Willena blinked at dust as she stared out the side window where she had rolled up the dust flap for fresh air. They had traveled in the same coach together all the way from Independence and by now were on a firstname basis. James turned to look, seeing a party of Indians lined along the top of a distant ridge, sitting on their horses and quietly watching the coach. “They aren’t going to attack us, are they?” Willena asked in alarm.

  James studied them with mixed emotions. There had been more Indian trouble lately as the latest gold discovery brought thousands of settlers into what was supposed to be Indian country, according to the Laramie Treaty. Already that treaty was being abused, and the Indians, especially the Cheyenne and Sioux, had retaliated. He studied the Indians in the distance, seeing a few women move down the ridge, walking beside their warrior husbands, some leading horses that dragged travois loaded down with personal belongings.