Savage Horizons Page 9

  When the man finally finished, Caleb’s head swam and he could barely move his arms to put his shirt back on. He gritted his teeth against a groan as he put the coat on also, and the preacher pushed him roughly back into his chair and began the lessons, while Caleb struggled to pay attention. But the pain seared through him, and the welts on his stiffening back burned and were suffocated by the woolen jacket.

  Somehow he managed to get through the next two hours of spelling and mathematics, making some mistakes because of the pain. But overall Caleb did well enough to earn a remark of surprised praise from the preacher, who stressed that if God ever forgave the heathen evil inside him, it would be only because Caleb had some white blood in his veins.

  “I will send a letter home with you, Caleb, to tell your mother how well you did. But I warn you,” he leaned closer, “do not ever tell Mrs. Sax about your whipping. If you tell her, God’s revenge will be great upon you.” His face reddened with an almost wild piousness. “Do you understand, Caleb Sax?”

  The boy swallowed. “I understand.”

  “If you tell, God will cast you into a living hell, and I will have to beat you again. You must be good, Caleb, and accept the punishment that is necessary in order to get the evil out of your blood.” The man stood up then. “Now, go home and do the lessons I gave you. Bring them back with you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” Caleb said quietly, raging on the inside. He refused to actually look straight at the preacher, for fear the man would see the hatred in his eyes.

  “Stand up, Caleb Sax,” the man told him.

  Caleb rose, turning toward the man but not raising his eyes. The preacher reached out and pulled at the quill necklace. “This is a heathen token,” he said almost angrily. “I have heard how this necklace made you threaten a man’s life. That shows how evil it is. Do not wear this necklace in my house again. If you do, I shall destroy it.”

  Caleb looked up at him then, and their gazes locked challengingly. Caleb wondered if at that moment the man was actually afraid of him, for he immediately let go of the necklace.

  “My necklace,” Caleb said in a near hiss. “Do not touch.”

  The preacher grasped the boy’s long hair then, pulling on it painfully. “Then do not wear it here again.”

  Caleb jerked away. “I no wear,” he answered. He turned and ran out through the door, slamming it behind him. How could he bring himself to ever go back to the preacher’s house? he wondered despairingly. Yet what would Cora and Tom Sax think if he broke his promise to them? Would Tom refuse to take him on the next hunt? That was one possibility Caleb couldn’t face.

  Caleb ran several yards from the house, then turned and looked back, fearful that the preacher would come after him for some reason. It was then he saw Emily Stoner, staring down at him from an upstairs window. How much had she witnessed? He was ashamed to think she might have seen the beating with the belt, heard the bad words the preacher had said about him. He stared for a moment, wondering why the preacher seldom let her out of the house and would not let her attend school with the other children. She was an outcast, like himself, yet she was the man’s own daughter. Caleb turned and ran home.

  Inside the house Emily watched him go, curious about the Indian boy and wishing she could talk to him and find out where he had come from. And she felt sorry for him, wincing herself at every blow of her father’s belt across the boy’s back. She’d felt that belt, knew its sting.

  “Get away from that window!” her father yelled behind her, and the girl jumped and whirled to look at him. He stepped closer and slapped her across the face. “Slut! How dare you watch that Indian boy?”

  She kept her face turned away then, putting a hand to her numb cheek. “I—I was just watching a bird.”

  “Don’t add lies to your sins, Emily. If I don’t watch you closely, you’ll turn out just like your mother. You just pray to God that you won’t walk the evil path your mother walked. Don’t let me catch you staring at a boy again.”

  The man turned and left the room, and Emily flung herself on her bed, weeping bitterly. She was confused and lonely, trapped in her life which was nothing more than schooling and prayers and chores. What was so terrible about being with others, talking to other children? And what did her father mean about turning out like her mother?

  She remembered little about her mother, for she’d been very young when she had died. Emily had had nightmares about her poor mother burning in hell, for that was where her father claimed she had gone for her sinful ways. Emily had never been told what her mother had done wrong. Her only memory of the woman was from an early age, but it was vivid and had always haunted Emily. She remembered it had been night, and her mother was running with her. A strange man ran beside them, and then there were shots and screams, and her father was picking her up and carrying her away. She had never seen her mother again, and soon after they had left the place where they had lived. She didn’t even know where that had been, and they had moved several times since. Emily was never allowed to make friends anywhere they had lived. Her father had simply told her that her mother had died, and whenever she asked about the woman, her father simply told her to never mention “that sinful woman” and threatened to beat her if she did so again. Emily had learned to stop asking.

  Caleb ran to the horse shed, not wanting to face Cora Sax and her questions until all the anger and humiliation were out of him. The tears came in bitter, wrenching sobs that tore at his young soul. He was not evil. He was not! And he would wear his necklace forever, whether the preacher liked it or not.

  He dropped his books and tore off his suitcoat and shirt, unable to bear the cloth against his welts any longer. He threw himself face down into some straw, crying bitterly in loneliness and terror. If only he could have gone with Tom Sax! What should he do now? Should he run away? But where? And was the preacher right when he said he would be punished by the white man’s God if he told Cora Sax about the beating?

  It was then he heard the voice behind him. “Caleb! What happened to you?”

  He whirled, quickly wiping at his eyes, disgraced even more that Sarah had found him crying. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

  The girl stared for a moment at his bare chest. She’d never seen a shirtless boy before, and his skin was fascinatingly dark. Her heart felt as though it would burst with pity, for she sensed that for an Indian boy to cry, something very bad must have happened.

  Sarah walked closer, and Caleb grabbed for his shirt and started to put it on.

  “Caleb, let me see your back again. It has big white marks on it. Where did they come from?”

  He slipped on one shirtsleeve, then winced as he put his other arm in the second sleeve. “I fall,” he told her.

  Sarah’s eyes teared, for the preacher scared her when she sat in school and church and listened to him roar about sins and the devil.

  “Did that preacher man hit you?” she asked, her eyes wide with fear.

  Caleb refused to meet her eyes and began to button his shirt. “I cannot say. He tells me—” Caleb stopped. He was not supposed to tell. Then he heard Sarah whimper and he looked at her. “Why you cry?”

  “He beat you, I know it. Will he… beat me?”

  Caleb scowled, wincing again with pain. “No. You white. I Indian. He say I bad.”

  Sarah sniffed. “But you aren’t bad, Caleb!” The look of his back brought terror to her heart. She moved closer, kneeling down near him. “You should tell mother, Caleb. Don’t let that man hurt you again.”

  “No. Cannot tell.”

  The girl began to cry harder. “But I don’t want the preacher to hurt you again. I can’t stand for you to be hurt, Caleb.” Tears ran down her chubby, rosy cheeks, and for some reason it bothered him terribly to see her cry.

  “No hurt. You not cry. It be secret.”

  Sarah shook her head. “He’s a bad man, Caleb. I’m telling mother!” She turned and ran.

  “No! Wait!” He wanted to run after her, but felt s
uddenly dizzy and weak. He sank back down into the hay, rolling over on his side. What would Cora Sax say? What kind of punishment would come to him? He had not meant for Sarah to find him crying. He felt like a fool now. Perhaps he had not been brave enough.

  Several minutes later Cora Sax came running out to the shed. “Caleb!” She rushed to his side. “What is this about welts on your back? What happened. Caleb?”

  His stomach churned and he wondered if he was going to vomit. “No hurt. Keep promise. Go back tomorrow.”

  “Sit up, Caleb, this instant,” the woman told him.

  The boy obeyed, glancing at Sarah, who just stared as Cora lifted his shirt to see the welts on his back. “Dear God,” the woman muttered. “Come to the house and I’ll put something on these welts right away.”

  The boy only scooted back, looking up at her with teary eyes. “I no tell. Sarah tell. Your God no punish?”

  The woman frowned, kneeling back down beside him. He stared into her thin face and kind, green eyes. “Punish?”

  “Preacher say… I tell, God punish.”

  For the first time since he’d known her, Caleb saw true anger in Cora Sax’s eyes. “How dare he tell you that!” She reached out and touched his hair. “Our God does not punish innocent little boys, Caleb. He is a good God, a kind God. It is Preacher Stoner who should be punished, for hurting you and telling you those lies about our God.”

  The boy swallowed back more tears. “Is true? No punish?”

  “Of course not. And you’ll not go back there, Caleb.”

  The boy stared at her in joy and disbelief. “I stay here? You teach?”

  The woman smiled softly. “I’ll teach. I thought it would be good for you to have the preacher’s learning, Caleb. But what he has done is unforgivable, and certainly no way to teach a child.”

  “Caleb not evil?”

  The woman grasped his hand. “You’re not evil, Caleb.”

  The boy’s lips puckered. “Tom Sax be angry. No take on hunt.”

  “Oh, yes he will,” she answered. “I promise, Caleb. Tom will understand. And he’ll be very upset with Preacher Stoner. You pay attention and let me teach you, and when Tom gets home we’ll just show him how much you can learn without the preacher’s help. We’ll do it ourselves, you and I and Sarah. I’ll not send my Sarah back to that man, either. Tom will have some words for him, preacher or not, you can be sure!”

  Caleb looked at Sarah then, and the girl was smiling at him eagerly. She nodded. “See? I told you we should tell mother.”

  Caleb breathed deeply. Suddenly his heart felt lighter and even his back seemed less painful. He slowly got to his feet, insisting on doing it alone. Cora picked up his jacket and boots, and Sarah took his hand.

  “Come on, Caleb. While you were gone I baked you a pie all by myself! It’s my first pie. You have to taste it and tell me what you think of it.”

  Caleb managed a grin. He was not really hungry. He was in too much pain. But he would taste it for Sarah, and even if it wasn’t good, he’d tell her it was, for her heart was good, like her mother’s.

  Tom Sax fumed, storming back and forth in the small main room of the cabin. “He’ll not get away with that,” the man grumbled, his fists clenched.

  “You can’t go getting in a fist fight with a preacher, Tom,” Cora tried to calm him.

  “Oh, can’t I?” He shook a fist in front of his chest. “He’s a man no different from any other.”

  “Not to the community.”

  Caleb and Sarah listened excitedly, their eyes wide, their mouths quiet. Caleb would like nothing better than to see the fiery Tom Sax punch out the cruel Preacher Stoner for the stinging beating the man had given him.

  “The man’s a fake,” Tom answered. Tom had returned the night before, but Cora had saved the news about Caleb’s beating for morning.

  “Tom, think for a moment,” Cora pleaded. “We know it was wrong. But men like Preacher Stoner can make such things look right. Caleb is Indian. If you go out there and call the preacher out and make a scene about this, it will only make things worse for Caleb. Just because the man is a preacher, a lot of people won’t believe us. And some who do will just say the man was right to beat Caleb, because he’s Indian. If he were one of their children, it would be a different story. But you’ll just draw more attention to Caleb. People will brand him as a trouble-maker, and he doesn’t need that. To make a scene will just make the preacher look more right than wrong. You can’t just physically beat on a man who is so respected in the community, right as you are. You’ll just turn more people against Caleb, and that would hurt more than help him.”

  Tom stopped and looked at Caleb. “I’m sorry, boy. Damned sorry. I had no idea he’d treat you that way. I should have taken you with me on the hunt.”

  Caleb watched with hope in his eyes. “You will take me next time? I have learned much from Cora. I can read a lot of words, and write and spell. And I know my numbers.”

  The man’s eyes actually teared. “Of course you can go with me. I promised, didn’t I?”

  Caleb nodded. Tom shifted his eyes to Sarah. “Did that man ever lay a hand on you, girl?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Mama kept me from school anyway. She said she doesn’t want the preacher teaching me anymore.”

  Tom nodded, looking at Cora. “That was good.”

  “Preacher Stoner came over one day and asked why Sarah wasn’t in school.” She raised her chin. “I looked him straight in the eyes and I told him I thought he knew why. He turned very red and gave Caleb a terrible look. But he’s not bothered us again. Please let it rest, Tom. Do it for me. The man could do or say something to turn the community against Caleb. They all hang on every word the man says. I know he’s wrong, but I think it would only hurt Caleb to use him to try to prove the kind of man the preacher is. Perhaps people will figure it out for themselves eventually, just by noticing how the man treats his daughter. The poor girl seems a virtual prisoner in their house. She can never play with the other children or even go out of the house.”

  Tom sighed deeply, rubbing his chin. “That’s a sorry thing over there. But I can’t do anything about how he treats his own child. It’s my children I have to protect. You were wise to take Sarah out of the school. This all must have been very trying for you.”

  She looked at her lap. “I was wishing you were here, that’s for sure. I’m glad you’re back, Tom.”

  Their eyes met again and Caleb admired the love and support he saw between them. He had heard familiar sounds the night before, sounds he sometimes heard Black Antelope and Two Stars make together if he awoke in the middle of the night.

  Tom stepped closer to Caleb. “That man gives you any trouble, you tell me, understand?”

  Caleb nodded. “I will tell.” He put a hand to the blue quill necklace. “You not let him take necklace?”

  “Of course not.” Tom leaned down, putting his hands on Caleb’s shoulders. “And don’t you pay any heed to what that man said. There is nothing evil in being Indian, Caleb. You’re a fine young man, and you’re smart, too. God loves you the same as he loves all of us. Our God doesn’t punish children like that man said, and in His eyes you’re no different from anybody else. You be proud of your Indian blood, you hear? Don’t you ever be ashamed of it—not ever. You promise me that.”

  Caleb stared back at him with wide, blue eyes. “I promise. That man did not make me feel ashamed—only angry. He has a bad heart.”

  “Yes. I think he does.” Tom raised up and patted the boy’s hair. “You’re looking fine, Caleb—taller, more filled out, and by golly I think you’re getting more handsome. And in a couple of months Bo and I will be heading out again. You will come along this time. You bring some books, and around the campfire at night, you can read to me. I’ll help you with the words you don’t understand. How does that sound?”

  Caleb grinned, his heart dancing with joy. He could go back into the deep woods, live the way he was meant to live. “I go. I be
good hunter, you will see.”

  Tom smiled. “Now that is something I don’t doubt.” He turned to Cora. “I’ll do like you ask, Cora. But that man had better leave Caleb alone from now on. And we’ll not be going to his church services. You can read to us from the Bible and we can pray right in our own house. I know you’ll miss church-going, love, but we can’t go worship under that man.”

  Cora nodded. “It’s all right, Tom. I’d rather not go myself. After seeing what he did to Caleb, I could never sit and listen to him.”

  The man’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Cora. There aren’t many of the civilized things here you knew in Saint Louis.”

  Their eyes held. “You know that doesn’t matter,” Cora answered in a loving voice. “You belong here, and I belong wherever you are.”

  Tom sighed very deeply, a strange look on his face that moved from sorrow to near anger. “If not for—” He stopped then, turning away. “I’ve got to go and take my skins to the supply store.” He reached out. “Come on, Caleb. You can come along and help me count them. We did good this time.”

  Caleb jumped up, eagerly following the man outside.

  There was no more talk of Preacher Stoner; and no more problems with him. Tom began keeping Caleb with him often, and life became happier and more secure for the boy. Weeks turned into months, and months into years, years that passed living with a loving family. Caleb learned fast, becoming more like a white man in many ways. He felt more and more comfortable in the new world at Fort Dearborn, but he never forgot his life in the deep forest to the west, or the people there he had loved and lost.