She frowned. “Not by white man’s ways. It would have to be a church wedding, and my father would never allow it.” She sat up slightly. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ll keep meeting this way, in secret. I like it better this way. My father would be furious.”
Caleb reached up and stroked her long, blond hair. “You are a strange girl, Emily Stoner. We should be married so that it is right.”
She smiled. “I don’t think I want to be married. It’s more fun this way.”
He sighed, not sure what to think of her. “We cannot meet here again. My father will be back any time.”
“Then come to the barn behind our house at night. Give a call—like a bird or something—and I’ll know you’re there. I’ll come out to you.” She said it as though it were all very simple. She lay down beside him. “Do it to me again, Caleb.”
He was too full of the glory of what he had just learned to object or wonder at her strange behavior. It felt wonderful being inside of her, touching her bare skin. If she was willing to let him and didn’t care that they weren’t married, he would take advantage of the moment, for it was important to learn about women. He was soon lost again in her silken mystery.
Caleb could not resist the meetings. Tom Sax did not return for three more days, and each of those nights Caleb felt drawn to the Stoner home, where he softly whistled a lilting birdcall that told Emily to come to the barn. Each night they continued to explore and discover all the wonders of physical love. There was no more talk of marriage, and Emily didn’t seem to care. Defiance against her father was apparently more important to her than anything, and there was a wickedness to her ways that only made her strangely inviting.
Tom noticed an odd restlessness to Caleb after he returned, but Caleb seemed unwilling to talk about it. There were moments when Tom was sure Caleb was about to speak, but the boy seemed afraid. Tom tried to gently prompt him, assuring Caleb he could tell him anything, but Caleb insisted there was nothing to tell. Every night he would disappear, telling Tom he preferred sleeping in the forest in the summers, that winter would be upon them soon enough and he would have to sleep inside.
Caleb’s soul was torn. It didn’t seem right to mate with a girl who was not his wife, and yet he could not resist going back night after night. His newfound ecstasy was too tempting, but he also felt guilty about it. He often thought of Sarah, and how he would hate it if some young man tried to do such things with her. Sarah was so different from Emily. Sarah would never do these things with anyone but a husband, and Caleb hoped she would find a good, kind man who would not frighten or hurt her.
Somehow, though Emily had been so willing, he knew that her behavior was not natural, that a truly good young woman would never do what Emily was doing, and would perhaps even be afraid of that first awakening to a man. He remembered from his life among the Sioux that a young woman who did what Emily was doing risked being beaten or scarred, perhaps even have her nose cut off. The man who offended her risked being killed. There was a good side to mating and a bad side. Emily seemed to want only the bad. But Caleb was young, and the pleasures of a woman’s body were wonderful indeed. He could not bring himself to reason out what was happening, for he was too full of his joyous awakening to manhood.
Caleb let Emily into the barn, closing the door behind her and sweeping her into his arms.
“Oh, Caleb, I’m so afraid every night that you won’t come again,” she whispered. Their lips met, and all the manly, protective, powerful feelings returned, as they always did. He carried her to the hay and laid her down, able to see her only dimly by the light of a full moon that shone through a gap in the wall.
They spoke little. All their youthful passions were quickly reawakened, and he moved a hand under her flannel gown, knowing she wore nothing beneath it, touching her in all the ways she had told him made her feel excited. He pushed the gown up to her waist and moved a knee between her legs, but then there was the sound of scuffling feet outside.
“Emily!”
Emily gasped and stiffened. Caleb jerked away, and immediately Emily began screaming wildly, ripping at her gown. She lashed out and scratched Caleb’s cheek with her fingernails, and the boy jumped up, confused. The barn door burst open, and Preacher Stoner stepped inside, a lantern in one hand and a musket in the other.
“Father,” Emily screamed. “He attacked me. That horrible Indian boy attacked me! He touched me in bad places and tried to rip off my gown!” She ran to her father, weeping as though terrified as she clung to him.
Caleb stared dumbfounded, unable to move. What was happening? Why had Emily accused him of attacking her?
“Heathen!” Stoner swung around and hung the lantern on a nail, then raised the musket. “You half-breed scum. I knew you were bad. I should beat you to death!”
Caleb found his feet then. There was no time to ask questions, to wonder why Emily had accused him of attacking her. There was only time to get away with his life. He ducked behind a horse stall as the musket was fired. Stoner pulled a pistol from his belt then, and Caleb darted for the opening in the wall where the board was missing. He squeezed through it just as a shot landed in a board next to him. He ran as hard and fast as his legs would carry him, heading for the shelter of the nearby forest.
In the background he could hear Stoner screaming after him and yelling for help. Two more shots were fired and Caleb kept running until his calves screamed with pain and his heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. His mind raced with confusion and disgust as he moved deeper into the forest, where he felt welcome and safe. Why? Why had he allowed that crazy white girl to get him into this? If she continued to scream rape, he could never go back. They would believe her. He would be hung before he could speak a word in his own defense.
For three days Caleb lay in a small hollow beneath a log, cautiously coming out for only moments at a time to relieve himself, grab some berries and drink some water at the nearby stream. He hid his tracks each time, retreating to the hollow again and pulling brush around it. Four different times he heard men ride past, voices cursing him for his cleverness in hiding, others swearing they’d hang him on the spot if they found him. The last time they were near, someone mentioned they might as well give up the search.
“He’s half Indian,” the voice grumbled. “The redskin is probably miles from here by now, headed for his own people where he’ll be safe. We’ll never find that slick little devil.”
“Little?” someone replied questioningly. “He’s built like a man, and he was apparently man enough to rape Emily Stoner and destroy that poor girl’s honor. I wish to hell we could get our hands on that buck and give him what he deserves!”
The horses moved away then, and for the rest of the cool, quiet night, Caleb stayed in the hollow. All the next day there was only the sound of the animals and the wind. Caleb wondered if everyone back at the fort had finally decided he could not be found. With the danger of venturing away from the fort because of the threat of war, the search may have already ended.
On the fourth night he came out of hiding, taking off his buckskins and washing in the stream. How he hated Emily Stoner! She had branded him. How could he go back to the place he called home, to Tom Sax? Because of Emily Stoner’s strange desires he was permanently banished from Fort Dearborn and the great lake. After all the times he had dreamed of going back to the wilderness, he realized now that he didn’t really want to go, not yet. But now he had no choice.
Caleb dressed and made his way through the dark woods toward the Sax cabin. Everything was quiet, and when he neared the cabin, his eyes teared. What did Tom think? How could Caleb leave him?
He watched the surrounding area for several minutes, deciding it was safe to head for the cabin. He darted toward it. The night was black, the moon hidden by clouds. He made his way quickly to the wooden door that led to the root cellar beneath the building. With a sigh of relief he found the door unlatched. He quickly opened it and climbed down the stone steps, closing the door
behind him. In the clammy, pitch black cellar he felt his way along the ceiling to the trap door that opened into the kitchen. He listened, hearing only the soft squeak of Cora’s rocker that Tom had gotten into the habit of using lately.
Caleb tapped on the door that lay beneath a braided rug above, and the rocker stopped squeaking. He heard footsteps, and then a voice close to the door. “Caleb?”
“Yes,” the boy answered in a rough whisper.
The door opened. The cabin above was dark. A hand reached down and grabbed Caleb, and he felt a strength flow through him at the touch. Tom helped him up and immediately hugged him tightly.
“Thank God,” he muttered. He led Caleb to a chair, and they could see each other from the glow of embers in the hearth. They sat across the table from each other.
“What in God’s name happened?” Tom asked.
Caleb sighed, putting his head down on the table. “I don’t even know, Father. Emily Stoner came to me, wanted me to … do things to her.” His eyes teared, and he was glad it was dark. “I knew it was wrong, but she begged me. She came to the cabin when you were gone hunting, snuck away from her father while he was sick.” He raised his head. “I could not stop myself. I wanted to, but she … she almost insisted. She took off her clothes.” He put his head in his hands. “I just want to get away. I feel far away from Maheo. I feel bad.” He looked at his father. “But I did not attack her like she said. She met me willingly in the barn, and her father found us. That was when she started screaming, and scratched me and said I attacked her.”
Tom Sax sighed deeply. “The little bitch. I’ve suspected for a long time she was a bad one. I can hardly blame her for being a little strange, considering how she’s been raised, but she did you a great wrong, Caleb. I suppose she accused you of attacking her because she was afraid of her father’s wrath. Whatever the reason, you can’t show your face here now. They’d hang you, son.” He reached across the table and grasped Caleb’s arm. “God knows what she offered would be hard for any boy your age to ignore. But you should have told me, Caleb boy, you should have told me. I knew something was wrong.”
Caleb swallowed. “I did not know how to tell you. I did not want you to be angry with me.” He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry, Father, to add to your troubles. I will go away. Can you get some supplies for me? I will need a horse. I will pay you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You needn’t pay for what’s yours. I told you that gray gelding was yours to keep. But where will you go?”
The thought of leaving Tom Sax created a terrible ache in Caleb’s heart. “West. To the wilderness where it would be harder to find me. I do not want to go where there are many white people. I have never been happy among them, and now I know I cannot live among them without trouble. They are too ready to believe I am bad.”
“The country to the west is very dangerous now, Caleb. You’d have to be very careful.”
“I can do it. I know the ways of my people. I will try to find the Cheyenne.”
Tom squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry, Caleb. I’d go with you, but they’d know if I suddenly left. They’d be more likely to resume a search. Tempers are high, Caleb.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No. They know better than to mess with Tom Sax.”
“Meet me, Father. Meet me next spring—at the place where the Fox River meets the Mississippi, where sometimes the trappers and Indians used to meet. Come in the Moon of the Greening Grass, in May.”
Tom nodded. “I’ll do that, son. I’ll meet you.”
Caleb fought an urge to cry. “Do not tell Sarah why I had to leave.”
“I understand,” Tom replied. “I won’t tell her. I’ll just tell her you felt a need to go back west and find your people. She’ll understand that.”
“And tell her—tell her I will see her again, like I promised. I don’t know how, but I will. Tell her I will remember her always.”
Tom stood and walked around the table. “I love you, Caleb,” he whispered, his voice breaking. Caleb stood up and they embraced.
“I’m so sorry to hurt you, to leave you alone.” Caleb groaned.
“You did nothing wrong, Caleb. You fell into a trap, and you’re just the victim of all the hatred and prejudice of the times.” He patted the boy’s shoulder. “Go back into the cellar. I’ll knock on the outside doors when everything is ready.”
The boy climbed back down the steps and waited in the darkness. Tom closed the door in the floor and put the braided rug back over it. Several minutes later there was a tap on the outer doors. Caleb opened one carefully and climbed out. Tom waited in a shadow of the cabin, holding the bridle of the gray gelding. “He’s all packed and ready to go, son. There’s food in the parfleche and a change of clothes, a musket and pistol, your hunting knife and tomahawk, your bearskin and some warmer clothes for winter.”
Caleb stepped closer, and they embraced again. “Thank you, Father,” he whispered. “I will see you in the spring.”
“God go with you, Caleb.”
“Forever I shall remember you, and honor you as Father.” A lump welled so tightly in his throat that he could say no more. He climbed onto the horse. “May you always ride with the wind at your back, Father, and under the blessings of Wakan Tanka.”
“And the same to you. Good-bye, Caleb.” The man’s voice choked again and he patted Caleb’s thigh. “Go now. Just go.”
Caleb rode into the shadows of the surrounding forest. He did not look back. Again his life was changing, and he could not bear to look back at the little cabin and the man who stood there alone.
Chapter
Nine
LONELINESS took on a new meaning for Caleb Sax. He was deeply troubled by the thought that he might never see Sarah again. Emily’s actions and betrayal made him miss Sarah even more, almost desperately. And he had shamed and brought trouble to Tom Sax, adding to the man’s own loneliness by having to leave. He would dearly miss the man who had been a father to him for over seven years. He wondered sometimes what really made a man a father. His real father was a bad white man, but two men who were not his father by blood had been as dear to him as any natural father could be.
Now both were gone from his life, and he was back in the wilderness. He had no idea if he could find the Cheyenne, let alone anyone who had known him. The rumors back at Fort Dearborn had been that many Sioux and Cheyenne had pushed further west, leaving the land to the eastern Indians who fled the continuing onslaught of American settlers. All sought to flee the diseases the white men brought, diseases that sometimes wiped out whole tribes.
Caleb kept to the thick forest as much as possible, hiding from Indians and British alike, for in the land immediately west of Fort Dearborn neither could be trusted. Day after day he traveled, every mile farther from Tom Sax making his heart hurt more. He consoled himself by remembering that at least they would meet the next spring. He would see Tom again. And at least he was back in the wilds, close to Mother Earth, moving closer to the people with whom he had once lived. And in spite of his youth, his many hunting trips with Tom, as well as his memory of living in this land as a child, left him capable of taking care of himself.
Perhaps, he reasoned as he headed west, his misfortune would be his good fortune. Perhaps the spirits intended him to go back to his people, return to his roots. He had never been completely happy at Fort Dearborn, and if not for Tom and Cora and Sarah, he would not have stayed as long as he had. Caleb did not regret living with the Saxes because it had taught him much about himself and the white man’s world. Yet deep in his heart he realized it was time to return to the world of his Indian heritage. It would be good to live where a man could be truly free, away from the strange confines and rules of the white man. He felt a need to return and grow closer to the earth spirits, to live off the land with none of the white man’s trappings.
The deep woods and caves became his home through the loneliest winter of his life. The gray gelding became his best friend, and Caleb th
anked the spirits that the horse did not get sick or hurt, for without him Caleb might not survive. The winter was a hard one, with unusually deep snows and cold weather that tested his skills to their limits.
He grew and matured, realizing he must be his own man. He had survived as a nine-year-old boy. He would survive at sixteen. In the eyes of the Indian he was already a man. There was no room that winter for allowing childish feeings of terror to take over. He had been foolish enough by lying with the strange white girl. He had not been strong in resisting her as he should have been, and the shame of it made him determined to be strong now as he penetrated the wilderness. He would bring no more shame upon himself.
Each day became a challenge to survive, and just finding food and enough firewood was a major victory. Caleb was glad for the thick, wolf skin coat Tom had packed for him, as well as the bearskin from the bear he had killed the winter before. He fashioned snowshoes out of slender branches woven together, and found a cave in a rocky hillside to use as a base camp in the worst of the season.
He thought often about Emily, finally wishing he could stop hating her. Perhaps she had done what she had out of fear, and yet it was a terrible lie that brought him shame and loneliness. He knew now she was bad, bad from the inside out. Perhaps it was because of how she had been raised, so hidden from real life that she didn’t know how to live at all. That first day in his cabin she had behaved almost like a wild animal just released from its cage, running free once more.
He tried not to think about her too often, for it brought bad feelings to his heart. He preferred to concentrate on Tom … and Sarah. Poor Sarah, alone in Saint Louis, Tom alone at Fort Dearborn, and himself alone in the wilderness. Would the three of them ever be together again?
An early thaw in February gave him the ability to travel again, and he struggled mile after mile into the northwest interior, far from the Americans and the British, into a land occupied by Santee and Dakota Sioux, a region that would one day be called Minnesota. This was new, unfamiliar territory, farther west from where he had been born. Caleb saw many signs of Indians, abandoned camps, snow trampled and pawed away by horses to find grass. He cautiously followed the trail left by the large group of people.
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