“Sure.” The man rose, excusing himself from the table.. Caleb looked at Sarah again before he went out. She knew what he was thinking. It was unlikely that James Sax was telling any of his new friends that his father was part Indian. And he had made no mention of how people in St. Louis felt about the Indians.
Juanita put the finishing touches on the cake. Tonight she would tell Tom what she was sure of now—that she was pregnant. Glorious spring had brought green to the foothills and melted snows in the high Sierras—and it had brought life to the womb of Juanita Sax. She guessed she was perhaps four months along. That would mean the baby would come around October. She wondered if the letter they had sent to Tom’s parents would reach them soon. They would have to send another, telling them the latest good news. Tom had urged them to come to California, and they anxiously awaited the reply. It was already May, but with the winter snows it was possible the letter would not reach them before July.
She went into the bedroom to take another look at herself in the mirror. She smoothed her dress, wondering if Tom had noticed her waist was getting thicker. How many times had she thanked God that none of her rapists had gotten her pregnant? God had saved that sacred event for of the man she truly loved, and this baby would be perfect.
She heard someone riding hard then and dashed out into the main room and to the door to see Tom coming, riding as though something was wrong. But then he let out a yelping cheer and laughed. She waited with a pounding heart, wondering what on earth he was so happy about. There was no chance to tell him about the baby as he thundered up and dismounted before the horse even came to a halt.
“Juanita! Wait until you see,” he shouted, grabbing a leather pouch from his gear. He limped up the steps and grabbed her hand, dragging her into the house. “Look at this!” He opened the pouch and dumped out several nuggets that sparkled gold.
Juanita stared at them, picking one up and studying it. “It . . . it looks like gold.”
“It is gold! Gold from our own stream that runs through the north quarter and comes from Mission Mountain—our mountain! It’s lying all over in the bed of the stream, Juanita, which means there is lots more up higher in the mountain!”
She looked at him, blinking in near shock. “Gold?”
His eyes teared and he grasped her hands. “Gold! And it’s ours! Juanita, we are rich—richer than this ranch could ever make us!”
Her eyes teared with joy. “Oh, Tom, are you sure?”
“As sure as I am that I love you.”
She smiled, hugging him. “Oh, Tom! If it is true—”
“If it is true, I can build you a grand home. You will live the way you once lived, only even better. You will have servants and—”
“All I need is you. You and our baby.”
He grinned. “Í know, but life will be so much better for us, Juanita. We deserve this after—” He stopped, watching her eyes. “You say ‘baby’ as though, as though you mean. . .”
She smiled and nodded. “Around October, I think.”
He put a hand to the side of her face. “That is even better news than the gold,” he said softly. He enveloped her in his arms. “I never thought I could be this happy, Juanita. We will be rich, and you are with child. How I wish my father could be here, but he probably will not be able to come. He is probably well settled now, or perhaps Sarah is not well.” He drew back. “Do you think he will understand in my letter how much I want him here?”
She laughed lightly. “Tom, I don’t even know him. How would I know what he will think?”
He hugged her again. “I miss him so much. I want to share all this with him. Here he could give Sarah the life he always wanted to give her.”
She leaned back and looked up at him. “We have much to celebrate. I baked a cake for the baby. I was going to make this a special night, tell you the news.”
He sighed, kissing her forehead. “And I spoiled it with news about the gold. The baby is so much more important.” His eyes teared. “It makes me very happy, Juanita.” He sucked in his breath, hugging her close and swinging her around. “What a day! Gold in my land and a baby in my woman. No man could be happier than I am this day.”
He set her on her feet, and she looked up into his dark eyes, eyes once full of vengeance and hatred, but now glittering with love and joy. “We must give part of everything we make from the gold to Father Juarez and the mission,” she told him. “It is the right thing to do.”
He nodded, still finding it hard to believe that so much hell was behind him. “Yes.” He kissed her cheek. “I must go to Sonoma tomorrow and have these nuggets checked out, file a legal claim, and make sure this land is properly registered.”
“Father Juarez said it is.”
“Just to be sure.”
She grasped his wrists. “Be careful, Tom. I hate it when you go there. I cannot quite get over the fear of someone knowing—”
“No one knows and they never will. It is all behind us now.” He knelt down and hugged her around the hips, kissing her abdomen. “All we need now is for you to have a healthy baby and that you have no problems with the birth.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “I know in my heart all will go well. God has blessed us richly, Tom. He has answered all of our prayers. And He will bring your father. You will see.”
• Chapter Twenty-two •
Sarah watched the approaching Indians. They appeared to be all men and gave every appearance of being a war party. She moved closer to Jess, who waited with his repeating rifle ready.
“What do you think, Jess?”
“They’re riding in easy. It must be Caleb. They’d be riding hard and yipping it up if they were on the attack.”
She shaded her eyes, straining to see if it was Caleb. She was not really afraid. After all, she was the wife of Blue Hawk, and Caleb had left instructions on how to explain that very fact in sign language—giving them his name in Cheyenne. The Cheyenne were not really in the habit of attacking lone travelers, although they had been wrongly blamed for several attacks on supply trains. As a result they were constantly chased by soldiers.
The Sax family was camped along the South Platte, on their way to Fort Laramie, where they would join a wagon train and head west. It seemed the right time to go. Trade with Santa Fe had dwindled to unprofitable proportions, and a cholera epidemic had swept through southern Colorado, chasing off most of the terrified Indians, who suffered the greatest losses from the “white man’s” disease. Loss of trade, both with Santa Fe and with the vanished Indians, had caused a disappointed and despondent William Bent to burn Bent’s Fort to the ground. The man had already sent his Cheyenne wife and their children north with other Cheyenne, away from the cholera scourge in the Santa Fe Trail vicinity.
There was nothing left now but to leave the small Sax ranch and again find a new place to settle. Survival in southeast Colorado was next to impossible. But Lynda refused to go any farther without finding Cale and making sure he was all right. She had to see her son once more, and Caleb had gone to find the boy. Sarah trusted that if anyone could locate a Cheyenne camp, Caleb could. Now as the warriors came closer she saw her husband, who was taller and broader than the rest of them. He raised his rifle and called out. “It’s all right, Jess.”
Jess lowered his rifle as Caleb and another rider rode harder, the others halting and staying several yards behind them.
“Jess, it’s Cale,” Lynda said excitedly, starting to run out to him.
Jess grabbed her arm. “Wait. You know what Caleb told us. Cheyenne men don’t show their affection in public. Don’t embarrass him, Lynda.”
“But it’s Cale.”
Jess felt her agony, but as he watched the boy come closer he realized this was not the Cale who had left them almost two years ago. He was all Indian. He wore buckskin leggings and moccasins and a buffalo-hide vest, his horse and uncovered parts of his body painted. The blue quill necklace hung around his neck, and he sported a feather tied into his long
black hair, which was braided to one side. The feather was clipped off at the top in a diagonal line. Jess had talked with Caleb about the Cheyenne enough to know what that indicated—killing an enemy by cutting his throat.
“This isn’t the Cale you’re remembering, Lynda,” he said gently as grandfather and grandson rode up close.
Caleb quickly dismounted, looking lovingly at Sarah. She knew he wanted to embrace her but would not do so in front of the others. “I had a harder time finding them than I thought I would.”
Sixteen-year-old Cale watched his mother, smiling as he swung his foot around and slid off his mount with agility. “Mother! It is good to see you.”
She reached out for him, but he stepped back a little, turning to Jess and putting out his hand. Jess put out his own and Cale grasped the man’s wrist firmly. “Hello, Jess.”
Jess grinned, returning the grip. “I can’t believe it’s you, Cale. You’ve grown so much.”
Cale smiled proudly. “I have even ridden against the Pawnee.” He pointed to his feather. “Do you know what this means?”
“I do, Son.” Jess looked him over. “You all right?”
The boy tossed his head proudly. “No Pawnee can get the best of Heammanahku.”
Jess nodded. “That’s right. We’re to call you Bear Above. It’s hard for us to think of you with any name but Cale.”
Sarah watched Caleb, whose eyes brightened when Cale just spoke. For a few days her husband had been one of them again, riding wild and free.
“Bear Above brought some of his friends along,” Caleb explained. “It’s getting too dangerous for an Indian to ride this country alone now. There are so many Easterners moving through on their way to California, and they all think nothing of taking potshots at Indians.” His eyes had lost their joy and had turned to anger at the remark.
Cale nodded, his own anger showing. “Many things are changing.”
“Yes,” Lynda said sadly, realizing Jess was right. This was not the Cale of her memories. He was nearly seventeen now, so tall and strong. The little boy she had once known was gone, and in his place stood a Cheyenne warrior.
Cale glanced at his grandmother, seeing her need as well as his mother’s to embrace him. “Come,” he told them. He moved past them and around to the other side of one of the covered wagons, then turned to Lynda, reaching out to her. She quickly embraced him, breaking into tears.
“Oh, Cale, I was so worried—the soldiers, the cholera. I couldn’t go any farther without seeing you once more.”
“I am glad you sent Grandfather to find me. I wanted to come and see you, but we were all afraid to come around the fort and the Santa Fe Trail. When we come there soldiers chase us, and there is all the disease.”
He pulled away gently, turning to his grandmother and embracing her. “How have you been, Grandmother?”
Sarah struggled against her own tears. “I had a good winter, Cale. I’m fine.”
He glanced at his grandfather, who had already told him about Sarah’s frail health. He saw the fear and sadness in Caleb’s eyes and the boy understood just how devastated his grandfather would be if anything happened to this woman. He prayed that it would be many years before poor health took its toll on his grandmother.
It was good that Caleb was taking her to the place called California. There it was always warm; perhaps she would get stronger there. And this was a good time to go.
Cale let go of his grandmother, turning to nine-year-old John and grinning. “This cannot be my little half brother. He has grown so much!”
John grinned, excited at seeing his wild brother. “It’s me, Bear Above,” he said proudly.
Cale laughed and hugged the boy, then turned to his mother. “And where is my new baby sister, whom I have not even seen yet?”
Lynda smiled through tears. “Jessica is in the wagon sleeping. Come and see her, Cale.”
The boy ignored her insistence on using his given name. He followed her to the back of one of the wagons and helped her climb in. There was barely room inside for the mattress on whose end little Jessica lay sleeping. Lynda scooted over to the girl.
“It’s a little crowded in here,” Lynda explained. “Usually Jess and John just sleep outside under the wagon so Jessica and I can have more room.”
Cale crawled across the mattress to the baby, and Lynda pulled away the blanket. “She’s nineteen months old already, Cale,” she said softly.
Cale stared at a chubby girl with dark, curly hair and fair skin. Her lips were pursed, a finger stuck between them, and she was curled into a little ball. He reached out and touched her hair. “I know she is beautiful without her even being awake,” he said softly. “Does she have your blue eyes, Mother?”
Lynda smiled. “How did you know?”
Cale looked at her lovingly. “I was only hoping. You have beautiful eyes. I would want my sister to have your eyes.”
Their eyes held for a moment, and Lynda could no longer control her emotions. She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Cale, I might never see you again.” She wept.
Cale grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away. “Mother, do not cry. I am so happy—truly. And you do not have to see me to be with me. I have learned so much living with the Cheyenne, and from Grandfather. Life is just a great circle, like this stone he gave me.” He put one hand against the blue quill necklace and the round, painted stone attached to it. “I have learned that the only real thing is spirit. We are spirits first, then are given life. Then we return to the spirit. And the spirit is very strong. My father’s spirit is strong. He is with me and with you—always. You and I will not be separated by death like my father, only by miles. But even so, we will always be together; for you will always think of me, and I will think of my mother and pray for her. I miss all of you, yet I am always with you, and you with me.”
She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “But what if I . . . don’t see you again?”
His own eyes filled with tears and he leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “I will always know that you love me. And someday we will all be together again anyway. It is only a matter of time before we all walk Ekutsihimmiyo to the heavens where we will ride free and have full bellies and be happy and strong. Until that time Maheo has given you Jess and John and a new baby daughter. And all sons leave their mothers. The only difference is I have chosen to be with the Cheyenne.”
She touched his face. “I was so worried about you during the cholera and all.”
“Again I was spared, just as I was when cholera killed John and Bess in Texas. It did not touch me. And I thank the spirits that it did not touch Séhe.”
“Séhe?”
The boy suddenly looked embarrassed, and he grinned bashfully. “It means Snowbird. She is Buffalo Boy’s young sister.”
She thought a moment, then grinned. “Cale! Are you interested in a girl?”
He sat back against a crate. “She is still too young. But when she is a woman—” He shrugged. “We will see. She is very beautiful, and we are good friends, except that now I cannot talk to her anymore. She has had her first flowing, and she cannot be around the young men. When her father allows her to marry, I intend to be ready. Already I have proven my skill and strength through the Sun Dance and in raids against the Pawnee. I have killed buffalo and captured wild horses, as well as stealing horses from the Pawnee. And Buffalo Boy’s father is fond of me.” He put on the proud air that was so common to Indian men. “When the time is right, Snowbird will be mine.”
She smiled lovingly. “You do seem very happy then.”
He nodded. “I am. It is a hard life. It is getting harder and harder to move from hunting ground to hunting ground. So many white men come now because of the gold, and sometimes soldiers attack our camps for no reason, blaming us for things we have not done. And still I love the life, Mother. I would have it no other way.” He glanced at Jessica again. “Most of the white men not only go through our land, but they cut down all the trees and leave their dead animal
s in our streams. That is why so many get sick. It is the white man’s filth that does it.”
He sighed deeply and looked back at her. “We are told by Broken Hand Fitzpatrick that the white man’s leader in Washington wants to make some kind of treaty with us. Fitzpatrick is a white scout who is a good friend to the Indian and often speaks for us to the soldiers and the men in government. He tells us that soon important men from Washington will come here and show us what land is ours, where we can live safely, hunt all we want, be free of white settlement. Grandfather is afraid it will never work, but we have little choice. We must trust these men and know where we can live freely without worrying about our women and children being slaughtered by white settlers. I just hope the whites will stop killing and scaring off the buffalo. Without the buffalo we cannot survive.”
She watched him sadly, wiping at her eyes. “Oh, Cale, I hate to leave you to all of that.”
“It would not matter, Mother, if you are here or far away. I will still be with the Cheyenne. This is what you must remember. You must go on with your own life—with Jess and John and Jessica. Remember what I told you, Mother. Life is one great circle. And the spirit has much power. We are never really apart from our loved ones.”
She reached out and grasped his hands. “You have learned how to be so strong, Cale. I will remember your words.” Her eyes teared again. This was her son, the baby she had nurtured at her breast, the seed of Lee Whitestone, her strong, loving Cherokee husband. She leaned forward and embraced him. “God be with you, Cale.”
It seemed so strange that he could be so wild and yet such a loving son. “Thank you for coming, Cale. I was so afraid we’d reach Fort Laramie before finding you, and then it would be too late. Please stay the night. Your friends can camp nearby. We have plenty of coffee and tobacco. Is there anything you need?”
He grinned at her motherly concern. “No. The spring hunt was good, and we traded robes at Fort Laramie for other things we need. But I will stay if you wish. Then I can see my sister when she is awake.”
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