“I have no weapons. What I have is a life far from the dirty dealings in trade. I can come up with some money, but that’s it. How much do you need to leave this town and keep your mouth shut?”
“Ho! We are testy now.” Rex slurped the saliva leaking from his mouth. “I’d say two thousand oughta do me just fine.”
“Talk sense. Where do you think I can get that much money?”
“Your wife. From what I know, she has some rich parents back East. Did I see them at your house the other day? The mother, dressed very well, and the carriage … my, that should be worth somethin’.”
Caleb lurched at Rex and grabbed him by his collar, raising the man off his seat. Sensing Levi was off his stool, and others were watching, he released him with a jerk and sat down. Under his breath he said, “I’ll give you two hundred and let you leave this town alive.”
Rex adjusted his collar and whispered, “I heard the Keaton group were a ruthless bunch. You kill me and you hang.”
“And who the hell would know? Who’s coming to look for a scout who’s on his last leg? They sent you on a fool’s errand, and you went for it. How much are they paying you? Not enough by the looks of it.”
“Marshal said I’d get a bonus if I return one of ya alive. But if ya offer me more, I’d be happy to go up to Canada and wash my hands of this filthy business.”
“I’ll meet you here tonight with the cash—two hundred, that’s all.”
Rex stuck out his hand and Caleb shook it, then wiped the moisture on his trousers.
After Rex left, Levi came over to Caleb. “What was that about?”
“Let’s talk outside.”
Walking to their horses, Caleb filled Levi in. “Damn that Harper. How did he know about the Klamath Reservation?”
Levi adjusted his hat. “Close quarters with a bunch of bored men gets them talking.”
Caleb gave a side glance to Levi. “And I suppose you—”
“Not me, Keaton. I heard him speak of your Indian connections with the Klamath a few times, like he could use you to make some deals with them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve set him straight. I told him about the Klamath people in private. They had nothing to do with my business dealings.”
“Yeah, we knew he was a hungry bastard. Sorry, Caleb. Sure glad no harm came to them. Now, how we gonna get rid of this piece of scum?”
Caleb untied his horse. “I have some cash put away. It should be enough to get him on his way. I don’t trust him, though.”
“Want me and Cork to take care of this?”
“After I give him the money tonight, I’d be grateful if you escorted him out of town. I’ll warn him if he trespasses on my land again, it’ll be the last steps he takes.”
~
“What business do you have in town at this time of night?” Jessica folded her apron and placed it on the sideboard in the kitchen. “You hardly touched your supper.”
Wiping his mouth, Caleb sat back in his chair. “Can’t I have a drink with old friends?”
“Again? I’d like to meet these old friends sometime. They don’t seem real to me.”
“I told you, sweetheart, they’re not your kind of company.” He stood and went to the vestibule to get his overcoat. The night was damp and cold, and he was ready to have this deal done. “I won’t be long. Make sure this door is locked.”
Giving his wife a kiss, he was gone to make one last trade—this one for his life.
~
In back of the tavern, a sliver of moon prevented total blackness. Caleb handed the two hundred dollars to Rex, who counted it not once but twice. It wasn’t in small bills, and Caleb realized the man wasn’t schooled in numbers. “It’s all there.”
Rex looked up after shoving the bills inside his coat pocket. “I see it is. Don’t take me for a fool, Cantrell.”
Coming out of the shadows, Levi stood beside Caleb, a pistol in his hand.
“Ho now, I want none of this,” Rex proclaimed.
“My friend is here to see you out of town,” Caleb said. “You keep to your side of the bargain, and no harm will come to you.”
Cork came out of the shadows next. “I’ve come along for the ride.”
Raising both hands in the air, Rex gave a snarky laugh. “So the gang’s all here. I surrender.”
Caleb assured Rex of his intentions to deal with him if he ever caught him on his land.
“My business is done here,” Rex shot back. He came close to Caleb. “You’ll always be an outlaw, pretty boy. You’ll never escape what you’ve done whether I’m dead or alive.”
Stepping away from the thin, pathetic man, Caleb walked into the night, leaving Levi and Cork to do their job.
Chapter Twenty-four
The time had come to say good-bye to his mother-in-law. Three weeks of her visit had been enough to put his wife in a state of nervous tension. There was little Caleb could do, and he let the drama play out. The subject of houses was not over. Bethany said, “I still believe it would be best to have a home in town, and you must find a studio to do your work in, Jessica. The fumes would be too much for the baby.” It didn’t help that Bethany read an article in the local paper about a group of Indians breaking from the Klamath Reservation and heading south. “How can I leave with any satisfaction knowing this? Do you want both your parents suffering from heart problems?” Caleb would not reassure her. He paid the price with her squinting eyes each time he talked, no matter how pleasant his statements were. Indeed, this day couldn’t have come soon enough.
At Burt and June’s home, Jessica held on to her mother, embracing her as affectionately as she had in saying hello. Taking it as a good sign his wife had survived the visit, Caleb turned to Bethany and bid her safe travels. With June weeping alongside them and Burt misting up, his mother-in-law’s farewell to him was predictably frosty. “I will be in touch with my daughter.” Putting his true feelings aside, Caleb smiled.
~
Lost in his thoughts, Caleb steered the open carriage home. Jessica’s talking brought his attention to her. “I think we came out of the whole thing unscathed, don’t you? Other than a few gifts for the baby, I’d say Mother was respectful of what you told her. I’m surprised. She’s never been one to back down.”
Pulling on the reins, Caleb slowed the horses. He turned to her, his anger simmering. “Don’t ever refer to her as if she’s our mother. She’s gone, it’s over, so let’s just get on with our lives.” He commanded the horses to a brisker pace. When they arrived home, he helped Jessica down and said, “I’ll be in my workshop. Will you be all right by yourself for a while? The fire needs only a little encouragement.”
“Yes, but don’t be long.”
After entering his nearly completed shop, Caleb kicked the door closed. With a curse, he went for a canister on one of the new wooden shelves. He opened the rusting lid of the tin and removed the small, wooden pipe inside. Shaking the can, he looked to see how much remained of the dried cannabis Soaring Feather had given to him on his last visit to the reservation. Sometimes life couldn’t be soothed with a couple of shots of liquor.
He filled the inside of the blackened pipe, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Sitting back in the shop’s only wooden chair, his sleep and wakefulness intermingled. The many dreams he had of his mother swirled in his head. He saw her in the garden, picking stems of pink cosmos, then whistling cheerfully as she found the perfect vase to place them in, leaving one flower out just for him.
“My father called her a fine lady, and that she was,” he said to Boones, who lay at his feet. “She’d always laugh at my silly jokes. Wonder what she’d think of me now? What would my father think of me and my simple home? He never designed barns.” Caleb cursed, and Boones regarded him with sorrowful eyes. As he leaned forward, the remains of smoke left his lungs. “Do you think for one minute they’d come out here to buy me a house? No, goddammit!”
He sat back and gave a sharp laugh. “Maybe they would. I guess I�
��ll never know. Shit, I should have stayed on the trails. I knew what to expect out there. A wife? A family? What the hell was I thinking?” Soaring Feather’s niece came to his mind. Meadow, sweet Meadow. The memory of her body, her comfort, her simple way of living taunted him now. “No!” Then his thoughts swirled to Jacob and Jessica entwined in each other’s bodies. He kicked the floor hard. “What the hell was I thinking?”
Looking down at Boones, he thought he heard the dog speak. “What?” he asked the puppy.
“You are one lucky son of a bitch.”
Forcing his body from the chair, he opened the newly hinged pine door and let in the cold air of winter. He inhaled deeply, needing the scent and briskness to wake him before he was consumed by his demons.
Sitting outside on the cold ground, his back against the shop, feeling the earth under him, his mind went to the scrubby scout. What would his mother think of the man he had been, a man he no longer was but couldn’t escape from? He sat very still, bringing her voice to mind. It was clear and musical. “You were my proudest moment in life.” The words vibrated through his head, then swirled into the misty air. A chill ran through him, and he swiped the tears off his face. Placing his head upon his raised knees, he tried to recapture her voice but it had passed. The smell of winter wafted by him, carrying the aromas of the forest, clean and heavy. He took it into his being and felt himself settle, his fragmented thoughts becoming whole again.
After what seemed like hours, he rose to take in another deep breath. The crisp air awakened his lungs. Boones brushed up against him, and he lifted the pup into his arms. He squirmed and licked Caleb’s face. “All right, little guy.” Setting Boones down, he ran his fingers through his hair, deciding never again to smoke from the pipe of Soaring Feather’s plant leaves. Lately, it had only brought back sorrowful memories. As he sat on the porch before entering the house, he wondered what made Soaring Feather give information to the scout. Was it tricked out of him or was there violence? The latter brought hot anger to his chest. Levi said they had taken care of Rex, and somewhere in Caleb, he hoped it was for good. God help him.
Stepping into the kitchen, he found Jessica folding a letter and tucking it into an envelope as the growing pup ran in, sliding on the polished, wood floor. They shared a chuckle at Boones’ silly entrance, then she returned to her correspondence.
“Who are you writing to?”
“A thank-you letter to my parents for their offer of help. Don’t worry, I also reminded them of our plans and ability to make our own decisions.”
“You’re damn right. I’m going to bed.”
“So early? Well, I’ll finish my tea.” She took up the cup and saucer as if talking to a stranger, the rim of her china cup meeting her lips.
“Jess.” His anger turned to amusement as she sat as stiffly as one would at a high-brow social event. He couldn’t help but smile.
“Boones told me I was one lucky son of a bitch to have snagged such a fine society lady as yourself.”
“Boones is right, but I think we need to teach him better language.” A soft laugh escaped from her. “I’m more than that, Caleb, and you know it.” He extended his hand to her. She placed her tea on the table and received his invitation.
~
A breeze stirred the curtains. Jessica felt the chill of December, but the sweet air held the future and it delighted her. Caleb brought the quilt up, then drew her chin in his direction. His mouth touched hers, a kiss so sweet, yet filled with strength and wanting. She whimpered and he pressed his lips harder, opening her mouth with his tongue. Her lust for him rose, and she let the natural rhythm of their lovemaking take her away from all her thoughts and cares. She was lost in him and he in her. So intimate was their coming together, it made her feel she had never welcomed anyone else into her body. When they came apart, his eyes were moist and she brushed a tear from her cheek. She wondered how he could sweep her away to soaring heights, then set her gently back to Earth with a few words, a grin. Her eyes fluttered, her body tingled. She molded herself into him and slept.
Part Two
Chapter Twenty-five
Rail River Acres–May 11, 1889
The spring wildflowers made for a beautiful show by the river’s edge, and Jessica wanted to capture the scene before they were gone. She finished all her morning chores and gave a thorough cleaning of the house, as she did every Saturday. Her baking skills had greatly improved, and she had a pie filled with meat and potatoes resting on the counter, along with Caleb’s favorite—strawberries and cream.
With days getting warmer, she could indulge in a few hours of painting by the cool river. Carefully, she wrapped two slices of raisin bread she’d made the night before in a small, cotton towel and placed it in the pocket of her smock. The rectangular, wooden box Caleb had made for her was brimming with art supplies—a white, cotton cloth, small jars, brushes, pencils, and colored tiles of paint. After a quick assessment, she neatly arranged her supplies, closed the lid, and secured the latch. She then grabbed her pad of heavyweight paper and made her way outside.
Stepping into the warm sunshine filled her heart with gladness as she entered Caleb’s workshop. In the acrid-smelling, dimly lit building, she found him trying to coax a long strip of silver metal around a fat, wooden dowel. He was bent over this latest project in a battle of wills, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, strands of his blond hair escaping its leather tie and laying across his face, his brows tightly knitted.
“Caleb, I’m going down to the river to paint.”
Without looking up he answered, “I’ll be done soon, Jess. Wait for me to finish this, and I’ll go with you. I don’t want you down there by yourself.”
Her hopes sank. She was familiar with the scene—his head down, a cigarette stuck to his mouth, the creases between his eyes in concentrated effort. This project could go on forever and she’d miss her beautifully planned afternoon.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll take Boones with me, and you can join us later.”
She envisioned herself coming back and him still bent over his project. No matter. She was determined to paint her picture. It wasn’t for any gallery or commission. It was for her home, to hang in her own parlor. “Caleb, did you hear me?”
“Yep,” he answered without looking up.
“Please, sweetie, the light is just right. I have to catch it. I’ll be gone for only an hour or so.”
Caleb raised his head and brushed the hair from his eyes. Removing the butt from his mouth, he laid down the half-twisted piece of metal. “You look pretty today.” A smile touched her face, and she adjusted the wooden box under her arm. She felt pretty. The blue day dress she wore was overlaid with the pink-flowered smock her aunt helped her sew just for these painting sessions.
Full of the creative spirit, she was well prepared and anxious to get going. The walk through the field would take a good ten minutes, then another five or so once over the knoll and down to the banks of the river. Her husband was delaying the precious time she had to paint. Then he smiled and held her gaze. “I’m glad to see you’ve become yourself again.”
“I’m well, Caleb. You don’t have to worry.”
“I do worry.” He was standing now, and she felt the strength of him in front of her, the strength she so needed when their life took a sad turn last winter. “I’m just happy to see you get back to yourself and your painting,” he said.
The last thing she wanted to be reminded of were the days following her miscarriage. It had blunted her spirited nature for too long. “All right,” he conceded, “I should be along shortly. I’ll need a break from this damn thing anyway.”
“Oh, thank you!” Without giving him a chance to change his mind, she raised on her toes, gave him a peck on the cheek, then cheerfully left to return to the sweet smell of spring.
Walking through the low-growing, grassy field, she held a twinge of guilt for being happy after such a grievous event. After miscarrying Jacob’s child, she felt abandoned and alon
e in her grief and fought hard for her contentment. Today, she wasn’t alone. Caleb mourned with her, in his own way. Her wounded heart had begun to heal, leaving another tender scar. She had reluctantly forgiven the powers of nature for its cruel and mysterious ways. Her forgiveness had been tested when her parents wrote, blaming Caleb for working her to the point of exhaustion, resulting in a miscarriage on that damp and dreary January day. By Caleb’s hand, the letter was quickly turned into ashes and they never spoke of the accusations. Jessica had June to console her, but she didn’t know who would console her husband, if he even needed it.
“Let him care for you and the land, my dear,” June advised. “It’s a man’s way of showing his love and concern. And don’t expect him to feel this as deeply as you do. Most men don’t become attached to their children until the child recognizes them. It’s just the way of it.”
With her new knowledge of the workings of men, Jessica let Caleb take on the chores of the house and land until she felt well enough to continue to do her part. Although her husband expressed nothing of his feelings, she had peered into his eyes. Perhaps the loss affected him more profoundly than her aunt had described.
“We’ll try again, sweetheart,” he had whispered as they lay close only a few months ago. In the shadows of a half-moon, he had stroked her head and held her to his body. It calmed her unsettled spirit and lifted her hopes. He had finally given recognition to their tragedy, and it played an integral part in making her feel safe to plan their family.
Today, with the spring in its fullness, she was ready to let go of her grief and meet life head on. As she walked over the knoll, the river came into sight. The smell of clean water and warm grass was intoxicating. Soon, she was able to find the perfect place to view her subject from. The dense woodland was to her right, and on her left, the meadow peeked out among the mighty pines. The clear, blue-green waters of the Rail River winded along the field and cut a path under the bridge and off into the trees and fields, making its way to other tributaries and ultimately to the Pacific Ocean. Feeling as if she were like this river, she contemplated the smallness of herself as part of a greater whole.
Sacred Terrain (Traveled Hearts Series Book 2) Page 11