“Well, let’s go down and see if we can find out where in hell we are.” He moved down the ridge, and she followed. Men and women alike could be seen in fields of corn, some in open fields leading teams of horses that pulled plows, turning up new ground. Men walked behind the horses, straining to control several animals at once. The houses were small, simple cabins, sprawled here and there across a vast plain, several of them in a neat row with a rutted dirt road between them.
Mary wiped at perspiration as they rode in. It was a hot day, yet it seemed every person they saw was busy at some kind of work. Men, women, and children stopped to stare at the intruders, some actually looking frightened, some defensive. Sage approached several men who stood together talking over the quality of a huge plow horse one of them was considering buying.
“Hello, there,” Sage began. “I see some of you speak English.”
The men quieted, turning to stare at Sage. One of them stepped forward, a wide-faced, older man with graying hair. “We speak English. We even have our own school. You whites think we are wild Indians, but we are just simple farmers like you. What is it you want?”
Sage removed a leather hat and ran a hand through his damp hair. “You don’t have to be so defensive, mister. I’m just trying to find out where I am. I don’t know this area.”
The man looked at Mary curiously, then back at Sage. “You live dangerously, wandering around in this land without knowing it. Do you not know there are a lot of Indians about?”
They all laughed then and Sage grinned. “I can see that, and I’ve already run into Ute, Cheyenne, and Kiowa. Now what might you be?”
The one who had spoken still smiled. “We might be Cherokee.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “In fact, I think we are.”
They all laughed again, but the women and children nearby huddled around corners and peeked through doors and windows at the newcomers.
“I am Thomas Red Hat,” the one who joked told Sage then. “We are Cherokee, and this is our wonderful new home. Isn’t it lovely, brown and dry and full of mosquitoes. It is a poor place they give us, but we are good farmers and we will make it work.”
“I come from Missouri, but that was a lot of years ago. Back then most of the Cherokee lived in Georgia and Tennessee.”
Thomas Red Hat’s smile faded to a bitter sneer. “We live there no more, my friend. Once we had a great city there, many farms, much wealth—schools and a newspaper. All of that has been destroyed. The generous United Sates government and the Georgia legislature made sure we were harassed and destitute enough that we had no choice but to go. And those who chose even then to stay were herded like cattle and sent on a forced march to this barren place. To this day that march is called the ‘Trail of Tears.’ He straightened more, putting on a hard smile. “But that is of no importance to you, my friend. You say you want to know where this place is?”
Sage nodded. “My name is Sage MacKenzie. We’re headed for Texas—Austin. This is my wife, Mary.”
The Indian nodded to her. “Hello,” she spoke up.
“Mary’s from Texas, but I’ve lived most of my life up in Rocky Mountain country—Wyoming Territory and such. I’ve never been to Texas, and I’m not sure I’m headed right to catch Austin.”
Thomas Red Hat glanced up at Mary, looking wary. “The whites in Texas have also run out the Cherokee. Some went there instead of coming here. They were forced out just like in Georgia.”
She held his eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I had nothing to do with those decisions.”
The man studied her a moment. “I suppose not.” He looked back at Sage. “Directly south is the Washita River, and south of that, the Red River. That is the northern border of Texas. Go east a ways yet, maybe two hundred miles, then south. That will keep you out of Comanche country. Not even the Cherokee like the Comanche. The worst Apache would treat you better than those Comanche devils.”
Mary stiffened but said nothing.
“Keep going south then—maybe two, three weeks—you will come upon many settlements. People there can guide you to Austin.”
Sage nodded. “Much obliged. And you ought to know I’ve got nothing against Indians. My best friend is a Ute Indian up by the Teton Range. I’ve traded with and befriended many an Indian—Ute, Shoshoni, a few Sioux and Cheyenne, even a couple of Crow. I’ll tell you, it’s an accomplishment to make friends with a Crow!”
Thomas Red Hat laughed lightly. “I have heard that. I do not know these Indians.”
Sage grinned. “Then you’re lucky. I expect they’re about as ornery as the Comanche.” He put his hat back on. “I’m keeping you people from your work. We’ll just be on our way.”
He put out his hand, and Red Hat took it easily. “I like your eyes, Mr. MacKenzie. Please. The day grows short. Consider sharing supper with my family tonight. You can sleep in our loft. They can take away our homes and farms, but they cannot take away our dignity as human beings, our manners and customs. A Cherokee home is always open to friends.”
Sage looked at Mary. “That all right with you?”
“Whatever you think is best, Sage.”
Sage met Red Hat’s eyes again. “That’s a right friendly offer, Mr. Red Hat. I think we’ll take you up on it. My woman could stand to sleep on something other than the ground tonight.”
“Good,” the man answered with a grin. “Then it is done. Come. I will take you there.” He turned and spoke with the other men for a moment, and Sage looked over at Mary as he mounted up again.
“Good food tonight, I’ll bet.”
She smiled, again feeling removed from reality, feeling led by fate into a whole new world that was bringing a total change in her, as though preparing her for something.
Cherokees! She would sleep in a Cherokee house tonight, eat Cherokee food, make friends with them. What on earth would her father think of that! Thomas Red Hat mounted up and led the way, and Sage and Mary followed, Mary’s horse still dragging the travois that carried the handmade rocker. She suddenly wondered whether her mother would allow the crudely built piece of furniture into the house. It didn’t matter. She probably could never live in that fancy house again anyway.
Chapter Twenty-one
A hawk screeched overhead as they moved through a wide plain that gave them a feeling of being the only two humans on earth. Here and there a mesquite tree reached its crooked, thorned branches toward a pale blue sky where the sun hung hot and relentless and bright. They both had to watch the path ahead for low, round, thorny cacti that could make bloody ribbons of the horses’ legs. Sage had shot more than one rattlesnake and had nearly been thrown from his horse when one had startled the animal before Sage had realized it was there. Now his discerning eyes watched the landscape carefully.
This was not the cool, green country of the northern Rockies. This, apparently, was Texas, for they had crossed the Red River several days before. Although it was far different from Colorado and Wyoming, it had a beauty all its own. Just the immensity of this land left a man in awe. He had heard Texas was bigger than any other state and bigger than most territories. But survival here was a challenge even for a man like Sage MacKenzie. Each area had its own dangers in the forms of new kinds of animals and rodents, the climate, the Indians, the vegetation.
Far off in the distance lay a low mountain range. Sage knew from his experience with vast plains and prairies that they could easily be a hundred miles or more away.
“This territory look familiar to you?” he asked Mary.
“Yes. But it isn’t like this around Austin. It’s much greener. The farther south we go, the closer we’ll be to the Gulf of Mexico. You’ll be able to smell the salty water in the air if the wind is right. Here and farther west is the really rugged country—drier, less settled, nowhere near the water supply. That’s only what I learned through listening when growing up. We never traveled much west of Austin because of the—” She hesitated before finishing. “The Comanche. I remember a little of how hot and dry and thorn
y the land seemed to be after I was captured. But then we got into more mountainous country. Naturally I was too distraught to pay a lot of attention to the land itself. So much of it is still so vague.”
“Well, it’s best to leave it that way and not try too hard to remember details.”
She urged her horse forward to ride beside him.
“Be careful,” he told her. “You should stay behind me.”
“Wait, Sage.”
He drew up his horse and looked at her.
“We’re so close,” she told him.
He studied the violet eyes, eyes that looked even bigger and more purple against her tanned skin.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he told her. “Have I ever told you you get more beautiful as you get stronger and darker and more…I don’t know. You’re a real woman of the West now, Mary. You know that?”
She smiled sadly and shook her head. “I just wanted to tell you, Sage, no matter what happens when we get there”—she sighed deeply and swallowed—“I never would have gotten well without you, Sage. I never could have stood those memories or borne the grief of losing my Elizabeth—any of it. Without your strength, your support—”
“You’d have made it anyway,” he answered. “You just don’t know how strong you are. Now you know, and no matter what happens, you’re gonna survive and do just fine, Mary.”
Their eyes held. “I can’t imagine us ever being apart, Sage.”
He smiled for her. “And we won’t have to be.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said in a near whisper.
He nodded. “I know I’m right. Now let’s get going and find a town. We’re low on a lot of things, including water. Be careful how much you drink. The horses will need some of it. Soon as we find a town, we’ll get cleaned up and get us some new clothes and go surprise your parents. They’re gonna be mighty happy. Now you stay right in my path like I told you.”
He moved ahead and she watched him a moment, thinking about the little cabin they had left behind, so very far away now. Was this all some strange, wild dream? Would she wake up in her room upstairs in her parents’ house, Rafe lying beside her, Elizabeth lying in the cradle near the bed? What had happened to that life, that Mary?
She urged her horse forward. She had a new man now, a new life.
They rode into the dusty but busy town, where a large body of men came marching toward them in formation but without uniforms, hoisting rifles on their shoulders. Sage and Mary moved out of their way and one of them shouted up to Sage.
“Come to join us?” he asked.
“Join you for what?”
“You been livin’ under a barrel, mister? We’re goin’ to fight the Mexicans. Gonna meet up with Colonel Kearny over in New Mexico. Expect he’ll have taken Santa Fe by then.”
They marched on down the street and Sage turned to Mary, who looked surprised and worried. “Come on. Let’s find us a hotel. We’ll do some shopping and—” He rose up on his horse, shouting out to the man who had spoken to him. “Hey, mister!”
The man turned, losing his place in line.
“What town is this!”
“Viesca!”
“Where’s Austin?”
The man waved him off to hurry and rejoin the others. But another man who’d been standing nearby moved off a boardwalk and approached Sage. “You wanting to go to Austin?”
“Yes, sir,” Sage answered, removing his hat and wiping his dusty brow.
The man pointed to a river that ran along the east side of the town. “That river there is the Brazos. All you do is follow it southeast, and you can’t help but come to Austin.”
“Thank you. Now maybe you can tell me what’s the best hotel in town. My wife wants to bathe and have a decent room.”
“Just up that way,” the man answered, indicating a southerly direction down the street. “Gertrude’s Rooming House. She’s got clean rooms. The bath has to be shared by everybody, but it’s got a tub and she keeps water heated all the time for folks to take in there and put in the tub for a nice, hot bath.”
“I’m obliged.” Sage motioned for Mary to follow and they headed down the street.
Mary’s stomach tightened. So close! Just follow the Brazos! How far were they? One day, perhaps? Two? What would they find? What would they find? Sage kept telling her not to worry, but how could she do that?
They reached the rooming house, and a sober-faced Gertrude gave them a room, spouting off a set of rules to them before giving them a key. No drinking, no philandering, no loud noises or voices, no this, no that. They carried a few things inside, going down a narrow hall to the door and letting themselves into the room.
It proved to be simple but fresh. The large, fourposter bed was made up nicely with bright quilts, and a window let in sunshine and fresh air. A chamber pot had been placed in a curtained-off corner, and a wash pan and pitcher sat on a polished dresser. Everything was very clean, and Mary was suddenly very tired and anxious to use the tub.
“I’ll go get some of that hot water and fix it for you,” Sage told her. “This time of day it won’t be used much and you can enjoy it to your heart’s content. I’ll go find me a barber and do something with this beard and hair.”
She put her hands on his waist and gave him an intense scrutiny.
“What are you looking at?” he asked her.
She smiled but felt like crying. “I just want to remember you just like this—the real Sage—bearded, rough around the edges, buckskin clothes, all of it. When we leave together, you can grow a beard again if you want, Sage. I don’t care anymore.” She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders. “I like you just the way you are.” She sighed deeply. “We’ve been through so much, Sage. There’s something special between us nothing can change now.”
He grasped her arms and bent down to kiss her forehead.
“That’s right. Now you take that bath. And get some rest. Tonight we’ll find us a good place to eat some real food, and then we’ll share that nice, four-poster bed. We can stay an extra day or two if you like.”
She nodded, hugging him around the middle and resting her head against his chest. “Yes, let’s stay, just a little while,” she answered.
Mary stretched out in the bed. How wonderful it felt to be clean and cool, lying on a real mattress between real sheets. She watched Sage undress. He had visited a men’s bathhouse, and now he was shaved, except for a thin mustache, and his hair was washed and cut, and lay in a cascade of thick waves to just above the collar of his shirt, a red cotton one he had bought and worn with black cotton pants and new boots that evening when he had taken her to eat. Mary had worn a soft pink dress that fit her tightly through the bodice over her slim waist, coming to a point just below the waist and then spreading out into a flounced skirt worn over petticoats. It was the first dress she had worn in over a year that fit her shape, and when Sage first saw her in it, along with new button shoes and a veiled pink hat, he was struck by what a truly elegant woman she could be.
They had laughed earlier when they had returned to their room, as he clumsily helped her unhook the endless row of hooks and eyes down the back of the dress, which only led to another row of hooks and eyes that fastened the dress’s lining underneath.
“How can you fancy women stand all this stuff?” he had remarked. “Now the Indian women—they know how to be practical and comfortable. A nice soft tunic with nothing underneath. That’s the way to do it. It’s cooler, and it makes things a lot easier for the man.”
She had reddened at the remark as he pulled the pink dress over her shoulders and down to her waist, then reached around from behind and massaged her breasts. “Now, doesn’t it feel good to have all that stuff off?”
She had smiled, but intense desire had ripped through her at the feel of his rough hands on her breasts. It had been three weeks or more since they had been able to do this. “Yes, I must admit it does.”
She had finished undressing, and now she lay watching Sage do the sa
me, drinking in the sight of his magnificent frame. How handsome he was! And they were so close now, knew each other so well, so intimately—not just in body, but in soul, mind, heart.
She turned on her side as he came over and slid into his side of the bed. “Oh, my God, that feels good,” he told her.
“Doesn’t it, though?” She snuggled closer. “Oh, Sage, we’re so close.”
“Just a few days now.”
She drew back, studying the hard lines of his face. “You still love me?”
He frowned. “That’s a pretty foolish question.” He sighed deeply, pushing some of the dark hair away from her face. “My only problem is seeing how different we are. When I saw you in that fancy dress tonight, saw how you conducted yourself, how gracious and elegant you are…” He sighed again. “I don’t know, Mary. We’re as different as night and day. How can I take you from the wonderful things your family can give you?”
She ran her fingers lightly over his chest, tracing them through the dark hairs and over his nipples. “Because you love me, Sage MacKenzie—enough that you couldn’t stand leaving me behind, knowing I’d rather die than be without you. Those things mean nothing to me anymore. Only you are important. You don’t want to break my heart and make me want to die, do you? I’ve just found happiness again.”
He ran a hand over a bare hip and up around her shoulder. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to take the chance of our differences coming between us someday.”
“They won’t. Not ever. I’m different now, Sage. In a lot of ways I’m better than I was before—stronger, wiser, more capable. I’ve learned to accept what happened to me without the awful fear and guilt. I’ve learned that among all races there are good and bad. I’m not the naive, ignorant, pampered little snob who was taken by the Comanche all those months ago. I’m just sorry it cost the lives of my husband and my baby girl. That’s the hardest part for me to understand—why God took them and left me.”
“We can’t ever understand those things, Mary. Maybe he knew what a lonely man I was—knew I needed to settle, and he saved you for me. Who can say?”
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