Savage Horizons Read online

  “I’m sorry, Caleb,” Sarah told him.

  The boy looked at Cora, seeing a mixture of sympathy and consternation in her eyes. He dodged past both her and Sarah, running out of the store, running for the Sax cabin. He ran as hard and fast as his young legs would take him, wondering if all the white men would be after him now for holding a knife against Kyle Wiggins. Maybe they would shoot him or hang him.

  By the time he reached the cabin his lungs ached and his eyes were blurry with tears. He barged through the door, looking for Tom, but the cabin was empty. He ran outside, looking around the fields and over at the log pile, but the man was nowhere to be seen. He headed for the small log building where Tom kept the horses, his heart pounding with anger and loneliness. He wanted the comfort and security only Tom Sax could give him now, and he found the man inside, brushing down a horse. Tom turned to stare in surprise at Caleb, who stood there panting, tears running down his face, the necklace and rabbit’s foot he had taken from Sarah still in his hand.

  “White man no take necklace,” the boy declared angrily.

  Tom frowned, putting down the brush. “What white man?”

  “Ugly one. Wiggins.” The boy sniffed. “And he no touch Cora!”

  Tom’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Nobody is going to take your necklace, Caleb. Tell me what happened.”

  The boy ran to him, burying his face against the man’s chest, spilling out the story in broken English and Cheyenne, declaring he wanted to go back to the wilderness to live. Tom Sax gave the boy a reassuring hug and led him over to a stack of hay.

  “You sit right there, Caleb, understand? Don’t leave this spot. I’m going to make sure Cora and Sarah are all right and help them bring back their things, and I’ll be having a word with Kyle Wiggins. Promise me you won’t leave this place.”

  The boy nodded, wiping angrily at unwanted tears, still holding the necklace tightly. Tom Sax left, and Caleb waited obediently, hoping there would be no trouble for Tom Sax because of what he had done. It seemed an eternity before Sax finally returned, carrying supplies into the house before coming back to the shed to find Caleb wiping off his necklace with his shirt. He looked at Tom anxiously.

  “I make trouble?”

  Tom smiled patiently and sat down beside the boy. “Not much. Let’s just say I don’t think Wiggins will give you any more cause to get into trouble in the first place.” The man rubbed his hands, and Caleb saw that his knuckles were red, a couple of them bleeding.

  “You fight?”

  Tom opened and closed his fingers. “Yes.” He looked at Caleb. “Wiggins won’t give you or my women any more trouble. He knows what I’ll do to him if he does.” He sighed and put an arm around the boy. “Son, 1 have a feeling your mixed blood is going to keep bringing you trouble like this. You’ve got to learn how to control your temper, learn when to get angry and when to let something go.”

  “Wiggins bad man. I no like. I want go home.”

  Tom squeezed his shoulders. “You’ll like it here all right in time. I can’t bring myself to take you back, Caleb. You’ve made so much progress, and you’re such a handsome, intelligent boy. I’ve grown attached to you, too. Besides, you might as well learn to get along with whites. You’re half white anyway, and the day is coming when all Indians will have to learn to get along with them, mark my word. You’ll just have a head start. You’re a bright boy, and I’d be shucking my duties to God and conscience if I took you back now.” He turned the boy, looking into his sky blue eyes. “And I’d miss you, Caleb, that’s a fact. I could never take you back and just forget you. Cora and Sarah would miss you, too. You’ve been good for my Sarah. It’s a hard, lonely life for a little girl in this place. There are other children, but they’re all older. You’re older, too, but you’re here all the time, and it’s nice for her. She likes teaching you things. Don’t you like learning letters and numbers? Don’t you like Cora and Sarah and me?”

  The boy wiped at a few straggling tears. “I like. You good. Others bad.”

  “Not all the others, Caleb. There are other good ones.” The man sat back and took a pipe from a shirt pocket, then reached into a tobacco pouch he wore on his belt, taking some out to stuff the pipe. “You know, Caleb, my Cora lost a baby not long ago, a boy. I wanted that boy bad—for more reason than you would understand. Cora feels pretty bad about it, but it’s not her fault. At any rate, when I found you I thought to myself, ‘Tom, a boy is a boy. You lost yours, so what’s wrong with this one? Why not take him and make him your son? He needs a father, and you need a son.’”

  He stopped to light the pipe, then puffed it for a moment. “Ah, but losing the baby wasn’t the only thing that was hard on my Cora. We left Saint Louis because of a bad family misunderstanding with a brother I have there. His name is Terrence, and I guess Terrence and I are as different as two men can be. At any rate, it’s been hard on Cora, living up here in less civilized places. And it worries me, raising Sarah here, too. My brother has said we should send her to Saint Louis, where she can have a better life, better schooling.” A strange coldness flashed through his eyes for just a moment. “But she’s our little girl, and we can’t bring ourselves to send her away.”

  He turned to look at Caleb again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, since you came along, life has been better for my Cora and for Sarah, and I want you to stay, Caleb. I’m very fond of you. I want you to stay and learn and be a part of our family. I know you’re feeling out of place and a little lost. But that will get better as time goes by and you master our language better, learn to read and write, get used to calling us your family.”

  The boy sighed, puckering his lips in thought. “I stay. But I go with you on next hunt.”

  Tom’s eyes clouded and he puffed the pipe quietly another moment. “Caleb, you can’t go with me, at least not this time.”

  The boy’s heart quickened. Surely Tom Sax wouldn’t go off and leave him behind. “I go with you!”

  Tom faced him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Caleb, you can’t go with me. We’ve heard there’s a new preacher coming to Fort Dearborn who is also a school teacher. Cora feels… well, we think you should have some of his professional schooling, some Christian teaching.”

  “Christian?”

  “Yes. Our religion. The preacher could teach you about God, and he can also do a better job of teaching you English and numbers and all those things than Cora can.”

  The boy scowled. “My god Wakan Tanka. Grandfather called him Maheo. No Christian. Gods same for all.”

  Tom rubbed at his eyes. “I know how you feel, Caleb. But just give it a chance. Listen and learn, then decide, about all of it—how you want to live, how you want to worship. Cora and I want the best for you, and I promised Cora that this time when I went out I’d leave you behind, just for this one winter, to be schooled by the preacher.”

  The boy’s eyes teared. “No! I go on hunt. Camp under sky. Be close to earth again.”

  “Not this time, Caleb.”

  “You promise I stay with you.”

  “Not in the way you mean it. I want to keep you, yes. Right here at Fort Dearborn, as my son. But I still have to go out on the hunts to make a living, Caleb. When you’re older you can go with me again.”

  The boy looked away, his heart pounding. He didn’t want Tom Sax to leave him among these white people. Tom reached over and rubbed his back. “Caleb, it’s just for the winter. Cora’s looking forward to showing me how much you’ve learned when I get back. Please do it for my Cora. She’s wanting you to get some Christian teaching, and she and Sarah would have some company over the winter.”

  The boy’s shoulders shook. “I not want be without you.”

  The man’s heart ached for him. “I don’t want to be without you, either. But things like this are part of growing up, Caleb. Sometimes it seems all there is to life is saying good-bye. But it’s just for this one winter, I promise. If you do well, learn your reading and writing and numbers, and make no trouble
, I promise on the Bible that I will take you with me on the spring hunt, and you can be outside again and live the way you like to live.”

  “You keep promise?”

  “I’ll keep it. As God is my witness.”

  The boy breathed deeply, wiping at his eyes. He stood up then, facing Tom, shoulders straight and chin held high. “I stay one winter.”

  Tom rose then himself, his eyes watery. He reached out and put a hand to the side of Caleb’s face. “You’re quite a young man, Caleb, and I’m proud of you. You’ve learned so many things so quickly, and you’re proud and brave. I’m not telling you to forget your old ways, Caleb, or forget that you’re as much Indian as white. But it’s best for you if you learn both ways. Maybe that’s why your Wakan Tanka led you to me. Come on. Let’s go back to the house.”

  Caleb walked along beside the man, his heart heavy. “Wiggins no like you?”

  “Wiggins likes nobody,” Tom answered. “He’s just a bad man, a no-good drunk. He stole some skins from a partner of mine once, and I accused him of it but could never prove it. He’s been itching to make me look bad ever since, but he’ll not be doing it by insulting my Cora or Sarah. If he does it again, I’ll shoot the man. You needn’t worry anymore about Wiggins.”

  Caleb felt better having talked with Tom Sax. He tied the blue quill necklace around his neck, glad Wiggins hadn’t stolen or broken it.

  As he finished tying the necklace, Sarah came racing into the shed. “Caleb, you were so brave, holding a knife on that terrible man. I was so scared for you! Is the necklace all right?”

  She ran up and stopped in front of him, fingering the necklace with her tiny hand, her soft fingers touching the skin of his neck.

  “No break,” Caleb told her.

  She looked at him with her intriguing green eyes. “Why did you get so mad, Caleb?”

  The boy frowned. “He bad,” he answered, not knowing what else to say.

  She smiled and ran off then. “Come on, let’s go fish at the river.”

  He watched her, his heart feeling strangely warm. Tom Sax had made him feel better, but he realized now the man wasn’t the only reason he wanted to stay. Sarah was so sweet, and she didn’t just make him feel safe like Tom did. Sarah made him feel proud… and warm. Yes, he would stay for the winter. Sarah was his little sister now, and Cora his mother. He must protect them both.

  Chapter

  Six

  THE weeks passed too quickly, and the glorious autumn beauty of the land was lost to Caleb, who grew sadder as the time for Tom Sax’s departure drew near. He did not want to make any more trouble, so he did not tell the man how he feared the dark, condemning eyes of the new preacher who had finally arrived.

  “I’ll make a good Christian of the boy,” the man had said with a pious air the first time he met Caleb. Preacher Stoner was a tall, lanky man, who Caleb guessed was stronger than his lean build suggested. He had a sharp nose and piercing dark eyes that were stern and unforgiving, and he wore dark woolen clothes, as did his daughter, Emily. The girl’s mother had died when Emily was very young, or so the preacher told everyone, and Caleb sensed that Emily Stoner was just as lost and lonely as he. What little they had seen of her, the girl had not once smiled, and she always looked overdressed for the weather. Though she was only slightly older than Caleb, her white-blond hair was worn in a tight bun. Caleb was certain she would be prettier if her hair were worn long and loose, like Sarah was allowed to wear her hair. But soon it was obvious it didn’t matter how Emily Stoner wore her hair, for her father seldom allowed her to leave his side, and she was never allowed to play with the other children.

  In late October Tom Sax was ready to leave, and Caleb wondered if the people he loved would always be dying or walking out of his life. When Sax rode off with Bo Sanders, Caleb watched until the horses could no longer be seen, then stood staring at the woods into which they had disappeared, aching to be with the men in the deep and friendly forest.

  “You wanted to go, didn’t you, Caleb?” little Sarah asked, walking up behind him.

  He nodded. “Yes. It is home, the forest.”

  “Better than here, where it’s safe?”

  He met her green eyes. “For me, safer there. No like here.”

  She looked sad then. “I wish you did. I’ve been a good friend, haven’t I?”

  He smiled at her. “Yes.” Then he looked back in the direction Tom had ridden. “But I like hunt.”

  “Well, you aren’t big enough to go yet.”

  He turned scowling eyes to her; almost laughing at the ridiculous remark. “I hunt with bow. I kill two Chippewa warriors. I plenty big enough.”

  Her eyes moved over him. Although he was only three years older than she, he seemed at least twice her age, and in her eyes he was much taller than he really was, for she greatly admired the Indian boy who had come to live with them. “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Caleb. I only meant you have to go to school first.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked. “We all have to go to school when we’re little.”

  “Indian children no go school. They be fine men and women. I will go to this school one winter, no more. Then go on hunt with Tom Sax.” The words were spoken as a solemn vow before he turned and stalked away.

  The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock, and the ominous pacing of Preacher Stoner’s boots around the table in his parlor. The man had had the stiff, white washed wooden house built quickly, refusing to remain in the small cabin which awaited him when he first arrived at Fort Dearborn.

  “A proper Christian home with hardwood floors and glass windows is all I shall accept for my daughter,” the man had announced soon after arriving at Fort Dearborn. He told the small community of settlers that lessons could not begin for the few children at the fort until such time as the preacher was truly settled and a proper chapel was built which could also be used as a schoolroom. All did his bidding, for they thought him a man of sacrifice and dedication for leaving civilization to come and preach in the wilds. No one questioned why he had come to such a remote area.

  The chapel was built first, and there Caleb was compelled to sit wearily through long, boring prayer services. He was not allowed to sit in the middle or at the front of the chapel, but was asked to sit in the back, where his dark presence would not disturb the white congregation. Cora Sax did not fully agree with the decision, but the preacher, she thought, should know what was best. She was more disturbed, however, when the preacher told her Caleb would not be allowed in the regular classes with the other children.

  “The boy would be a disruption,” he had told Cora. “Caleb Sax is a special child—peculiar in that his skin is so dark and he insists on wearing his hair sinfully long. And his blue eyes in that dark face would make children stare at him. There is also, of course, that certain element of wildness in the boy that could cause confrontations and corrupt the other children. Caleb will take special teaching, and would best be taught privately. As soon as my home is finished, you will bring the child there in the afternoons, after regular classes.”

  Again Cora had reluctantly bowed to the stern preacher’s demands, only because she thought it would be good for Caleb to have the formal learning. Now Caleb sat in the finished house. His lessons had not begun until almost January, for that was how long it took to finish the preacher’s home.

  Caleb sat stiffly in the hard chair at the parlor table, dressed in a warm, woolen suit that itched badly and made it difficult to keep from wriggling and almost impossible to pay attention. The preacher’s first instructions had been to sit completely still and not to speak. So he sat, awaiting his first lesson, apprehensive around the stern and frightening preacher, but determined to do his best to please Tom and Cora Sax so that he could go on the next hunt. Preacher Stoner paced around and around the big table, then finally stopped at the other end to stand and stare at Caleb. The preacher’s daughter, Emily, was nowhere in sight, but Caleb sensed she was nearby, listening an
d watching.

  “I will be blunt with you, Caleb Sax.” The preacher’s voice boomed at Caleb, startling the boy. “I do not like the fact that you are a bastard and a half-breed.”

  Caleb blinked, unsure what the words meant, but sure they were an insult. “I not—bastard,” he began.

  “Silence!” The man’s face reddened. “I told you not to speak.”

  Caleb closed his mouth and swallowed.

  “You will be difficult to teach, and it will be especially difficult to make a good Christian of you, Caleb Sax. I am not certain I can ever make you good enough in God’s eyes, considering the fact that you are not only part Indian and a bastard, but that you have also murdered two men. I will do my best. But know that you are forbidden to say anything in your Indian language. You will speak only English, and you will learn to speak it well. Perhaps your white blood will give you enough intelligence to grasp some of what I will teach you. But before we begin, you need the devil beaten out of you, to clear the evil Indian spirits from your soul and to show you obedience. You have killed, Caleb Sax, and there is a wildness in you that must be controlled. Remove your suitcoat and your shirt, boy.”

  Caleb sat rigid, unsure what to do.

  “Stand up and remove your shirt,” the man roared at him.

  Caleb stood up quickly then, knocking over his chair in his haste. He removed his jacket and shirt, then stared straight ahead. But out of the corner of his eye he could see the preacher removing his wide leather belt. His heart pounded with fear, yet he was determined to sit through at least this one lesson, as he had promised to do. Would Tom Sax be angry with him if he ran away his first day?

  “May the evil come out of you,” the preacher cried a moment before the wide belt snapped across Caleb’s back. The blow was so hard it made Caleb stumble forward over the table. The belt came down again and again, until Caleb thought he would pass out from the pain. But he made not one sound, nor did he cry, stubbornly refusing to satisfy the preacher with any sign that he was hurt. He was Indian, and a man. He would bear this, just like young warriors withstood their test of manhood. Yet he already hated this man, much more than even Kyle Wiggins. Wiggins was at least open about what he was, but this man put on a pious air, then beat children behind closed doors.