Chapter
Sixteen
Sarah watched as Caleb undressed, never tiring of looking at his magnificent physique, which seemed to harden with age rather than get softer. She could not forget how he looked when he first got home, his face covered with dried and frozen blood from the wound on his forehead, and his ribs bruised. Yet he was jubilant. He was sure it would be some time before Hafer could get his men organized to give him any more trouble. A heavy snowstorm would keep the man at bay, at least for a while.
“What about Byron?” she asked.
He turned to bend over the cradle and gently pat little James’s bottom. The boy lay sleeping peacefully. “This kid is getting much too big for this cradle, even though I built it big,” he answered.
“Caleb, I wasn’t talking about James. I was talking about Byron Clawson.”
He leaned closer and kissed James’s soft, fine hair. Then he stood up, coming over to the bed and unbuttoning his long underwear. “Byron has lost this one, and he’ll lose every time. Don’t even think about it.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I have to think about it. He’s desperately afraid of you, you know. A frightened man will do anything to get rid of that which frightens him, especially a coward like Byron.”
“Let him try.” Caleb moved under the covers. “My fondest hope is that Byron Clawson will give up hoping someone else can do his dirty work for him, and will come down here himself. Then he’ll be in my territory, and all the money and power in the world won’t help him.” He turned on his side, facing her.
She studied the incredibly blue eyes. “What would you do?”
He thought about Byron Clawson pawing her, literally raping her, beating her. His eyes glittered with vengeance. “It’s very simple. I would kill him. If I could get away from here, I’d go do it anyway. But places like St. Louis and I don’t mix. We both learned that the hard way. Out here, in untamed country, this is where I can be more powerful than someone like Byron. But if I have to, I will go to St. Louis and do it.”
She reached up and touched the gauze around his forehead. A spot of blood still showed from the wound. “Caleb, my Caleb. All your life you’ve been fighting and killing, haven’t you? The Indian wars, that horrible man at Fort Dearborn, all those Crow Indians, then the British. And here in Texas the Comanche, outlaws. Yet deep inside you’re a gentle man who never wanted any of it.”
He grasped her hand and kissed it. “Trouble has a way of following a half-breed, Sarah.” He nestled down beside her. “Sometimes I think I never should have let you stay here. I should have told you that after all those years I didn’t love you anymore—made you go back. Maybe I’m asking too much of you to stay here. Maybe I should give it all up and take you to more civilized places.”
She smiled sadly. “I am happy right here. I’m happy where my man is happy. Don’t make any moves for me, Caleb. Do what you need to do. And I know you’d never be happy in a city. What on earth would you do with yourself, you, a man who likes to ride free and raise horses and be in the sun, who lived as an Indian for years and who would do it again if not for his wife. I don’t need civilized places to be happy. All I need is you. If I died out here tomorrow, it would all have been worth it.”
They faced each other, and he traced a finger around her lips, always amazed at how she had retained her beauty. It seemed so strange that this could be the little girl he had grown up with at Fort Dearborn, the happy, inquisitive child who took his hand and taught him English and the white man’s ways.
“Then be happy in that,” he told her, “and don’t give Byron Clawson another thought. He’ll never hurt you again. And I don’t think Hafer will be giving us trouble for a while.”
He leaned closer and kissed her lips, moving a hand over her full breast.
“I hope poor Bess is all right. It was all so hard on her,” she said when his lips left her mouth and he began pulling her gown over her shoulder.
“Bess will be fine. She has Tom.” He kissed her throat. “No more talking, woman. Put all your worries aside.”
“Caleb, you’re wounded,” she reminded him as he pulled her gown down more.
“Don’t you know that after a fight, a man’s sexual desires come alive, especially when he’s the victor?”
She laughed lightly as his lips found the tender nipple of her breast. He pulled the gown away from it. It had taken them all night and a day to get back home, for the wind howled around them, and snow nearly blinded their way. Caleb was elated that only one of his men had been killed, only a few wounded; and that Hafer’s men had literally run from them. Water was again flowing into Blue Valley, and he’d had a chance to land his own fist into Charles Hafer. To Caleb it was a victory over Byron Clawson, and he was riding high on it. Tom and Bess were together and things were going to be better. He was sure of it. They had made it through a bad blizzard and found home, a warm hearth, their women waiting. What more could a man ask for?
He moved over her more deliberately then, and she gladly welcomed him. She was glad that none of her loved ones had been seriously hurt. Sarah closed her eyes as he pushed up her gown and moved a rough but gentle hand over her bottom. She wore nothing under the gown, hoping when she came to bed that he would want her, needing this just as much as he did. It was the ultimate proof that her man was alive and well and safe in her arms.
His lips kissed her belly, her thighs, the warm crevice of her inner thighs, making her open up to him in daring abandon, losing her natural modesty and allowing her husband whatever he desired, for she was not just giving. She was also taking—selfishly enjoying this beautiful man who belonged only to her. She reached up and grasped the posts of the brass bed, groaning in the absolute ecstasy of Caleb Sax’s tender exploration of her, until she felt the wonderful pulsations that meant she was ready for his invasion, the contracting muscles that asked for something to consume and caress.
He moved on top of her then. Moving his mouth back over her belly, he made his way to her breasts, exposed where he’d pulled the gown from the top. It was still on her, lying in disarray about her middle. He moved between her legs and entered her, bringing a little gasp that told him he was indeed filling her to her satisfaction. Two babies hadn’t changed his ability to give her full pleasure. He reached under her bottom and pushed into her in glorious rhythm, his chest pressed against her full breasts, his lips caressing her throat, her eyes, his own groans telling her she could still please him in return.
She arched up to him, whimpering his name then, and the bed rocked with the rhythm of their intercourse. She felt his own pulsating release, and heard her name whispered lovingly as Caleb sighed and relaxed beside her, his exhaustion from the raid finally catching up to him. He was soon asleep in her arms.
In the outer room young John had heard nothing. But in the loft Lynda lay awake, feeling her own needs, quietly crying because Lee was not with her. She could not help but hear the sounds of her parents’ lovemaking. Now the house was quiet, and her loneliness intense.
How she missed him still! How she needed a man. But all she wanted was Lee, and he was gone forever. She turned over and curled up, sighing with the near pain of needing to be a woman again that way. But whenever she felt this loneliness, Jess Purnell kept coming to mind. It upset her, for Jess was a Hafer man. He had been with Hafer when he came demanding his daughter; and he had been present at the fighting. But there was something in his eyes the few times she had seen him that suggested a man who was someplace he didn’t want to be.
Still, what did it matter? The fact remained he was a part of Hafer’s dirty deeds and therefore a man she could never even consider calling friend, let alone anything more.
Caleb halted his horse in front of Emily’s cabin. The weather had cleared and what snow they had gotten had melted, giving him the opportunity to ride into town. He intended to continue keeping everything as open and legal as possible with the Council and had come to San Felipe to tell them exactly what he had done about Charles Hafer. Besides that, Wil Handel had stopped by to tell him a meeting of settlers was being held this very afternoon to discuss their desired laws and a constitution. Delegates would be picked to attend a convention in San Antonio de Bexar, where a final constitution would be drawn and some decisions made about their rights and about their problems with Mexico. This would include another plea to Santa Anna to free Stephen Austin. They would show Santa Anna that they won’t tolerate a dictatorship, which was exactly what his rule was becoming.
This time Caleb could not come to town without seeing Emily again. He knocked on the door. “Who is it?” came her voice.
“It’s me—Caleb.”
The door opened seconds later. “Caleb!” Her face brightened and her pale blue eyes shone with delight. “I thought you had forgotten about me.”
“Now how could I do that?” He grinned and stepped inside so she could close the door against the cold. “Howard here?”
She turned away. “No,” she answered. He sensed a defensive ring to the reply. A warm fire crackled in the fireplace of the one-room cabin and the bed was neatly made.
“I … I just thought I’d say hello, Emily—tell you everybody is fine. We’ve had some trouble out at our place—neighbor who has no love for Indians. About a week ago I took the law into my own hands and solved a little dispute over water. Thought I’d talk to the Council about it. I would have brought Sarah with me, but it’s so damned cold.”
She turned to face him, smiling. But her eyes looked troubled. “I understand. The last thing you want to do is expose Sarah to the elements. You’ve got to take good care of that one, Caleb, so you’ll have her a good, long time. She’s a wonderful woman.”
Their eyes held, and he saw a strange sadness there. The first time he had seen her in San Felipe, she radiated joy and happiness at her new marriage. “What’s wrong, Emily?”
She stiffened, talking on the air of the old, hard Emily he’d once known. “Oh, I’m just … thinking how undeserving I am of all this.” Her eyes teared and she quickly looked away.
He frowned. “What the hell is the matter?”
She shrugged. “Nothing really. It’s just me … inside. I was getting ready to walk to town and do a little shopping. I feel so cooped up in this little place when it’s cold.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I … I saw some men riding down the street.” She swallowed. “I recognized them, Caleb. They didn’t seem to notice me close enough to know me, but I remember them.” She shivered. “God, Caleb, they were customers of mine once. I just … ran inside and closed the door.”
She sniffed then and turned. “What if they had recognized me? What if they came back later, when Howard was home, asking me if I’m still in the business of prostitution?” Her voice broke, but she refused to break down. “I thought … here in Texas … I could get away from it. But every day, with all these new men coming in, any time someone who knows me from New Orleans could call out—say something in front of Howard. I just … don’t know what I would do if he found out.”
He sighed, coming over and putting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s not too likely to happen, Emily. But even if it did, I think after he thought about it awhile, Howard wouldn’t even care. He’s a hell of a nice man. He would understand why you were afraid to tell him. You love him and he knows that.”
She reached up, touching the hand on her shoulder. “Do you really think so?”
“I do. It might take him a little time, but you’d never lose him forever. And if he gets ornery about it, you come to me. I’ll have a damned good talk with him.”
She wiped her eyes and looked at him, forcing a smile and tossing her head like the old Emily. “Here I am moaning about my problems, and there are so much more important things going on. Are you here about the meeting?”
He nodded. “Partly. I want to report what’s happening at my place, too.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough. You know well enough how some people think about Indians. I’ve got one of the worst living right next to my land, and have come to find out that he’s a front man for Byron Clawson, who is the real owner of the land.”
“Clawson! Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. To make matters worse, my son Tom fell in love with this neighbor’s daughter and rode off with her and married her in secret. They’re at our place now. Needless to say, her father is less than happy about the whole thing.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Young passions. They don’t stop to reason much, do they?”
Their eyes held a moment, both remembering the wild sexual encounters they had had as mere children at Fort Dearborn. “No, I guess not,” Caleb answered. “But she’s a nice young woman and they seem to be very much in love. All the fighting has been hard on her, but her loyalty lies with Tom now.”
Emily smiled and wiped some remaining tears. “Well, that’s good. That’s the way it should be. A girl leaves the nest and turns her trust and faith from her father to her husband.” She smiled sarcastically, going to a coffeepot hanging over the fire. “I never had the kind of father I had to worry about hurting. I hated him all my life.” She took up a heavy pad and used it to wrap around the handle of the coffee pot. “Want some of this black stuff? It’s strong.”
“That’s the way I like it. Sounds good. I need to warm up a little. But I can’t stay long. I don’t like being away from the ranch, but I need to find out what’s going on at this meeting.”
She poured two cups and sat down at the table. He took a chair across from her. “Life’s crazy, isn’t it?” she said. “Seems like we’re led more by fate than by our own wills, Caleb.”
“Not completely. You decided to change your life—of your own free will. Fate didn’t do that. You are now a married woman living with one man—living the kind of life you were always meant to live.”
She stared at her coffee. “Perhaps. And it’s true I made an effort to change my life. But fate could take it all away from me, Caleb. Seeing those men today reminded me of how delicate our lives are, how dictated they are by outside factors we can’t control.”
She met his eyes. “I hope it doesn’t happen to you,” she added. “You don’t deserve any more unhappiness. But me …” She shrugged, putting on the old, hard smile. “I deserve everything that happens to me, except Howard and happiness. I don’t deserve that.”
“You have every right to it. Your father stole all your happiness in childhood, and Potawatomies took away any last remnants of pride and dignity. Considering what you went through, I admire what you’ve done. You have risen above it, Emily.”
She laughed lightly. “Have I? Once a whore always a whore, that’s what most men think. And that’s what Howard will think if he ever finds out.” She sighed deeply, rising. “I guess I should have told him right at the beginning. He either would have married me or told me to go to hell. At least I’d have had it over with before I became so emotionally involved. I didn’t really love him at first, you know. I just married him so I could live like other women for once in my life. But he’s so … so damned good to me … so kind and considerate … and so trusting. That’s the part that really bothers me. He’s so trusting.”
Caleb drank more coffee, then got up himself, going over and putting his hands on her shoulders. “Quit worrying about things that haven’t happened and probably never will.”
She smiled. “How about that old injury? You ever have trouble with the paralysis?”
He let go of her. “Not in years. Just some stiffness in my legs, especially in this cold weather. But I still live with the fear of it happening all over again and lying helpless.” He walked to the table and sipped some more coffee. “I have Byron Clawson to thank for that.”
She rose and put her hands on her hips. “He still gets to you, doesn’t he?”
He finished his coffee. “I still plan to kill him somehow, if that’s what you mean. He will live to regret what he’s doing now and what he has done in the past.” He set down his cup.
She studied the powerful physique, which seemed to fill the whole room. “He probably will regret it—probably does already. You watch yourself, Caleb.”
“Don’t worry about me. And thanks for the coffee. I’ve got to get going. I just wanted to say hello again.”
She nodded. “Thanks. We have a way of landing in the same places. Considering how big this land is, and how much you’ve roamed it, that seems like quite a miracle.” She sobered. “I can’t help but think there’s a reason for it, Caleb—something that brought me here—something more than wanting to change my life. It’s as though there’s something more I’m supposed to do for you, but I can’t imagine what it could be now.”
“Quit thinking you owe me for Fort Dearborn. You paid that back many times over when you got me walking again. Fort Dearborn was a century ago, and we were kids.” He patted her scarred cheek. “You’ve got to learn to relax and enjoy your new happiness, Emily Cox. I think you should put on a coat and go into town like you planned. You can’t hibernate in here forever for fear of seeing someone you know.”
She smiled sadly. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go after all.”
“Good. And I’ll try to see you the next time I come again. Maybe Sarah will be with me.” He walked to the door and turned. “Go on into town. That’s an order.”
He left and she stared at the doorway. “Sure,” she said quietly, a lump coming into her throat at the thought of Howard’s total love and trust.
Lynda looked out the window at the sound of approaching horses. To her surprise, her heart quickened at the sight of Jess Purnell, accompanied by Sax men. What on earth was he doing here? She turned and looked at Sarah and Bess, who stood at the table kneading bread dough.
“It’s that Jess Purnell,” she told them.
Bess paled. “Maybe something has happened to my father.”
Lynda frowned. “I just wish Tom or Father were here. Did Tom say how far he was going this morning?”
“He’s down at the south end seeing about a sick colt. One of the men came and told him about it this morning. He said he’d be home for supper, though.”
“And Father won’t be back till day after tomorrow. He’s got so much business in town, he won’t get any farther home than the Handel place before dark tomorrow.” Lynda looked around the room. “Don’t tell this man Father is that far away.”
Purnell was at the door by then with Jake Highwater. Lynda opened the door and her eyes met Jess Purnell’s, an unnerving attraction moving through her, something she hoped went undetected. His eyes moved over her appreciatively. “Hello, ma’am.”
Lynda refused to smile. She looked at Jake. “What is this man doing here?” she asked him. “He’s a Hafer man!”
“Yes, but he insisted on coming here. We took his weapons. He’s alone. He wants to talk to Caleb. I told him Caleb was in San Felipe, so he said he’d talk to you, and you could tell your pa what he wants—then he’ll be back.”
Lynda’s irritation was evident in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have told him that, Jake,” she snapped. She felt a pang of guilt at the hurt pride in Jake’s eyes then and was even angrier with Purnell, who made her so nervous she had taken it out on Jake.
She moved her eyes to Jess. “What do you want?” she demanded sternly.
“Lynda, let the man in,” Sarah spoke up. “It’s so cold.”
Lynda stepped back. “You come in, too, please,” she indicated to Jake. “Tom is someplace south of here and we are alone.”
“You don’t need to tell me that. I look out for your best interest, Lynda. You know that.” The proud Cherokee still looked disturbed as he came inside behind Purnell, removing his hat.
Jess followed suit, and John came bounding in behind them, taking off his own hat and gloves and staring at the Hafer man. Lynda refused to offer Jess a chair. Jess’s blue eyes moved to Bess and he nodded. “Miss Hafer? You all right?”
Bess bristled. “The name is Mrs. Sax. Yes, I’m just fine—very happy. You tell my father that. You tell him I love him in spite of what he’s done, and he’s welcome to come and see me here any time he wants.”
Purnell sighed. “He’d like you to come home, Miss … I mean, Mrs. Sax. I’m supposed to tell you—” He sighed and looked at Lynda. “Look, my name is Jess Purnell, in case you don’t remember.” He looked around at all of them. “Look, I’m not supposed to be here at all. I came on my own. I know Hafer is planning something, and I wanted to warn you. I don’t know just what it is because he has only let a certain few of his men in on it.”
“How sad,” Lynda said sarcastically. “You can go back and tell your boss to give up. He’ll not get Bess away from here.”
Purnell sighed, fingering his hat in his hand. His blue eyes drilled into Lynda’s. “Look, I came here to warn you, and to tell you I don’t go along with what the man is doing. I really don’t. You’ve got to believe that.”
“Why?” Lynda asked coldly.
Sarah watched from the table, seeing under all Lynda’s challenging and hardness that her daughter was attracted to the handsome Jess Purnell.
Purnell reddened some and shrugged. “Well, because … because it’s just wrong, that’s all.”
“Then why do you work for him?” Lynda asked pointedly.
He held her eyes. Yes, she was strong, and smart, and not easily conquered. It only made him want her more. “Because all my life I’ve done ranch work and this was a good job. I did not know all the things the man had planned.” His eyes hardened slightly. “What I do is really none of your business, ma’am. But now I have come here to warn you to be careful, and to ask if I could work here, for your father. It might pay less, but I’ve had it with Hafer!”
Lynda’s eyebrows arched, and she suddenly smiled, but it was more of a sneer than a genuine smile. “You? Work here! That’s ridiculous! Do you really think I believe you’ve suddenly changed sides? You’re spying!”
“Lynda!” Sarah spoke up then. “Let the man have his say.”
Lynda turned. “Mother, he’s lying, can’t you see? He’s a Hafer man. That’s all we have to remember. Father would never hire him on here! At the least, we can’t do it without his say.”
“Well, what about your brother? Will he be back soon?”
“Yes. He’ll be back by supper,” Lynda answered.
“What about your father?” Jess asked the questions.
“Jake already told you—” She stopped and bristled. Why was he asking? “I suggest you leave, Mister Purnell. And don’t come back. Hafer men are not wanted around here.”
“I wish you’d believe me. I’d really rather work for your father, if he’d have me.”
“Well, he won’t. You get off our property.”
Their eyes held.
“I’ll be back to talk to your father. You tell him I was here—and that I warned you about Hafer,” Jess said firmly.
“We’ll tell him,” Sarah spoke then. “And thank you for telling us, Mister Purnell. We realize you didn’t have to, and Caleb wasn’t expecting Hafer to do anything more until spring.”
“Mother—” Lynda started to object, but Cale began to cry. She quickly looked over to where he lay in a cradle in the corner of the room.
“Yours?” Jess asked.
She looked back at him, her eyes softening just a little. “Yes. I had a son.”
He grinned. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad for you.”
Lynda blinked, caught off guard by his seemingly genuine concern.
“Thank you,” she managed to say, before turning away.
“Would you like a hot cup of coffee before you go, Mister Purnell?” Sarah spoke up. There was something in the man’s eyes that made her believe him, and she already knew Caleb liked the man. He had mentioned him once or twice.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Sax,” Jess returned. “I’ll get going. I’ll come back another time.”
“And where will you go, Mister Purnell?” Lynda asked sarcastically. “Back to Hafer?”
“For the time being. It’s too cold to be riding alone looking for other work.” He nodded to her. “Good-bye, ma’am.”
She folded her arms and said nothing.
“Good-bye, Mister Purnell,” Sarah answered for her.
Jess gave her a smile and left, totally unaware that Hafer men were headed for Sax land that very day—to take back Elizabeth Hafer and get rid of her husband.
Hafer’s men came in the night. Many of them were newly hired volunteers who had come to Texas to fight a war that had not yet started. So they had turned their energies to help fight this smaller battle instead.
Their goal was simple. Strike quickly while everyone slept. Take the girl. Kill Caleb Sax, and the son who had “violated” Bess Hafer. There would be guards at the Sax place. A man always kept guards in Comanche country. But Comanche seldom struck at night, and enemies would not be expected.
They rode in a circle around the northeast rim of Sax land, coming in through the more mountainous country, a route Caleb’s men would never expect to see Hafer men use. The regular trail was well guarded, but this route was not. Scouts moved ahead before nightfall, seeing only two lookouts, who were killed with knives to keep things quiet. Then the forty men rode in slowly and quietly, to a point from which they could see the houses—the main adobe house, a smaller cabin and another cabin only partially built.
“She has to be either in the main house or in that finished cabin,” Hafer told his men. “Bart, you and your bunch take the bunkhouses. Hold them at gunpoint and anybody who resists gets killed. As soon as the bunkhouses are secure, we’ll move in on the main houses. All of you—anybody gets in the way, kill him. But nobody kills Tom Sax. He’s mine. You can kill the father, but that boy is going to suffer for defiling my Bess.”
The men nodded. Hafer waited until two o’clock in the morning, when all would be in their deepest sleep. Even though Jess had warned them, Caleb’s men did not expect any trouble so soon. Hafer’s men left their horses at a distance and moved in on foot so their horses would not wake anyone.
But Tom Sax was already awake. He had never been a man to sleep soundly all night, just as his father was not. In this land a man had to sleep with his eyes half-open. But this night he was unable to sleep at all. He sat by dim lamplight, trying to make sense out of a book of poetry that Bess had given him. But Tom could understand none of the fancy writing and shook his head at the strange things women thought were important.
Suddenly his skin tingled and all senses came alert. He could not explain why. Perhaps it was his Indian instincts that told him something was amiss. His first thought was Comanche. He quickly blew out the lamp and darted to the bed, shaking Bess. She moaned and rubbed her eyes. “Tom?”
“Be still,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong.”
She gasped, sitting up.
“Come on,” he told her, pulling her out of bed. He took down two pictures and removed two logs sliced through the middle. They comprised the fake wall that served as a hiding place.
“Get behind here, and don’t come out unless it’s me who comes for you—no matter what you hear. Understand?”
“But, Tom, what about you?” she whispered as he quickly tugged away at the logs and lay them aside. Behind them was an enclosure big enough for a woman and a couple of children. He was already worried about the main house. He had to get there in time to hide Sarah and Lynda.
“Don’t worry about me. Just get in there, and damn it, if you come out for anyone but me or because you hear someone else in trouble, I’ll … I don’t know. Just get in there.”
She crawled inside. “But, Tom—”
“Stay there,” he almost growled. “Promise me, Bess, no matter what!” He heard her sniff, then heard a scream from the main house. “Goddamn it! Get in there!”
Bess hovered inside, terrified now. Tom quickly put back the logs and the pictures, then went for his musket, but not before something crashed through the window. “Out of there now, Sax, if you value the lives of your mother and sister,” someone growled from just outside in clear English. “And bring the little woman with you!”
Tom froze. It wasn’t Indians at all! Hafer! It must be Hafer men. He hesitated. There were probably a lot of them, and there was only one of him. They had apparently already invaded the main house. He glanced at the fake wall, which he could see in the moonlight, and prayed Bess would have sense enough to stay put.
“She’s not here,” he called out in the darkness.
“You expect us to believe that? Open the door, Sax.”
Tom walked cautiously to the door, dressed only in his underwear. He heard several gunshots from the area of the bunkhouse, and he knew Sax men were dying. He opened the door and several men burst in, one carrying a lantern.
“She’s not here,” one of them said after searching the one-room structure. “Let’s get him over to the main house and see what Hafer wants to do.”
“He ain’t got nothin’ but his underwear on,” another spoke up.
“So it’s a little cold out. So what? Won’t be long before he won’t feel the cold at all.” The man who had answered walked up to Tom and rammed a rifle butt into his back, sending him to his knees. “Drag him over there.”
They all left and Bess shivered behind the logs, trying to decide what to do. Tom had ordered her not to come out. It seemed the only way to save him was to go out and go to her father, and yet perhaps that would be the worst thing she could do. Once he had her, he would kill Tom for certain. Tom’s only chance of living was for the men to be unable to find her. But what would they do to Tom to make him tell where she was? Which was the worse decision? She shivered in the shelflike enclosure and quietly wept, hating her father more than ever.
At the main house Tom’s fury raged when he saw Lynda’s face was bruised. Sarah stood near the table. Both wore only their nightgowns, and Charles Hafer was growling at Sarah, telling her she’d better tell where Bess was. She said nothing, meeting his eyes boldly.
Tom jerked at the men who held him, but another kicked him in the groin. “Like the white women, huh? You filthy rapist!”
Hafer came over to Tom then, his eyes lighting up with hatred. He grabbed Tom’s hair and jerked back his head. Tom grimaced and panted from the pain between his legs, needing to bend over but unable to do so. “Where’s my daughter, you son of a bitch! What have you done to her!”
“Your daughter … is fine … and happy. You’re … the son of a bitch! She’ll … hate you now.”
“Where is she?” Hafer shouted.
“You’ll … never get her back … not now.”
Hafer landed a fist into his belly.
“Maybe if we had at his sister, he’d tell,” one of the men spoke up. “She’s a looker.”
Lynda was still reeling from a stunning blow from a Hafer man, delivered during a quick skirmish for a musket that stood in a corner of the room. Lynda had tried to reach it. The invasion had been so sudden there had not been time for Lynda and Sarah to get into the hideaway under the floor. Tom knew that if Caleb were home, he’d have been just as alert to something wrong as Tom had been.
“She’s got to be around here somewhere,” Hafer roared.
“We searched the cabin, boss. It’s only got one room.”
“Look harder!”
Men began tearing things out of closets and cupboards, and a few returned to the cabin. Tom looked over at Sarah. She would know where Bess was, but she would never tell either. She looked back at him with eyes that told him not to tell, eyes that reassured him that Caleb Sax would most certainly do something about this.
“Where’s your husband?” Hafer growled at Sarah then, walking close to her. His eyes moved over her in an effort to undo her by making her think she might be raped.
“He isn’t here either. He’s in San Felipe,” she answered calmly.
Lynda jerked away from a man who had grasped her arm to make her stay put. She looked at him with a wild look.
“Touch me or my mother, and you’ll die slowly at my father’s hands,” she hissed.
Tom again struggled to get free, suddenly jerking one arm loose and landing a fist into the second man who held him. But there were too many. Instantly five men were on him, pummeling him to the floor.
“Tom,” Lynda screamed, running into the pack to futilely try to pull them off. One of them hit her again, sending her flying against a wall. Sarah started to go to her, but Hafer grabbed her arm.
“I’ll ask you once more, Mrs. Sax. Where is your husband, and where is my daughter?”
“I told you my husband is in San Felipe. He … he took Bess with him. She wanted to go into town, but Tom couldn’t go. He has been nursing a colt that is special to him. So Caleb took her.”
Hafer grinned, shoving her toward the others. She knelt down to where Tom lay groaning on the floor.
“You two are going with us,” Hafer told them. He looked over at Lynda, who stood staring.
“No! Don’t take my mother,” she told him. “What kind of man are you?”
“A man who wants his daughter back. You tell your father that if he wants to see them both alive again, and his woman untouched, he had better bring my daughter to me. If I don’t get what I want in three days, the boy gets his head blown off, and the wife enjoys the pleasures of any of my men who needs a woman. You tell him.”
“You goddamned son of a bitch,” Tom roared, struggling to his knees.
“Take one of their horses and tie him to the back of it, Gus,” Hafer ordered. “Let Mister Sax try to keep up with the gallop while you take him to where our horses are tied. Leave him half-naked like he is. The cold air and the rough ground will wake him up.”
“No!” Sarah cried out, reaching out for Tom. But the men dragged him out. Sarah turned to Hafer. “You’ve lost your daughter’s love forever,” she told him in a voice filled with sorrow. “You could have had her back so easily, just by loving her and accepting her husband. You’re a fool, Charles Hafer, and a coward! My husband will kill you for this!”
The man just grinned. “He’s the one who’s going to die—the minute he steps foot on my land to return my daughter. And he will come … for you and his son. Then my job here in Texas will be complete. Get yourself a coat.”
“I will get dressed first.” She turned, but he grabbed her arm. “Get your coat.”
Whistles and whoops could be heard outside and horses galloped off. “He bounces real good,” someone hollered. Sarah closed her eyes and walked to a hook near the door where her woolen cape and hood hung.
“You bastard,” Lynda sneered. “My father will carve you up like a gutted pig!”
“He’ll be humble enough when he finds out I’ve got his wife and son.”
“I need some shoes,” Sarah said wearily.
Hafer looked around, spotting some furry Indian winter moccasins in the corner. “Wear those.”
“They’re my husband’s. They’re too big for me.”
“Put them on. You’ve stalled long enough.”
Sarah looked at Lynda. “It’s all right, Lynda. Keep James fed for me. It’s best that I go. Tom will need me.”
One of the other men still in the house snickered. “That’s a fact. All that dark skin will be scraped off by the time they’re through with him. Maybe we’ll make a white man out of him after all.”
Sarah felt ill, and Lynda shook with rage. Sarah looked at John as she pulled on the moccasins. “Don’t be afraid, John,” she told the boy. “Tell your father exactly what has happened.” She looked at Hafer. “He’ll know what to do. Mister Hafer has made a great mistake. All the money in the world isn’t worth what will happen to him for this.”
Hafer paled slightly at the calm confidence in her eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. There were a few more gunshots and shouts as Hafer and his men rode away with Sarah and Tom.
Lynda ran outside and watched them go, whispering her mother’s name as the figures faded in the distance.