Destiny's Dawn

by Rosanne Bittner

  Lynda turned to the baby, patting her bottom. “She’ll never know you, Cale.”

  He touched the thick curls of his sister’s hair again. “She will know me. You will tell her. You will not let her forget that I exist. She will know me as well as if we were together, because you will make me live for her, just as you always made my father live for me by telling me so many things about him. I feel I knew him well, even though I never got to see him.” He smiled, meeting her eyes.

  “Yes, she will know you, both as Cale and as Bear Above.”

  Jessica started to stir and Cale moved to the back of the wagon. “I will go and tell my friends that we are staying until sunrise.”

  He climbed out, talking more with the others outside the wagon before mounting up and riding back to his friends.

  Lynda heard him call out something to them in the Cheyenne tongue. She leaned down and drew Jessica into her arms, tears coming again. It would not be easy leaving her firstborn for a second time, perhaps forever.

  The night was still, except for the constant singing of crickets and the occasional sound of voices somewhere in the distance—men gambling around a campfire, the occasional cry of a baby, a dog barking, a couple arguing over something in the confines of their wagon, trying to keep their voices down.

  The Saxes were a part of a huge wagon train that was camped now not far from Fort Hall in Unorganized Territory. They were deep in the Rockies, not far from the western slopes that would lead them to the Humboldt River and through the broad desert of northern Nevada and on to the Sierras.

  At Fort Laramie, Caleb had sold the small herd he had brought along. It was an easy sale and a profitable one, as the United States army had just that year purchased the fort from the American Fur Company. Fur trade had all but vanished, and with so many thousands of people migrating westward, problems with Indians had increased, and citizens shouted for more protection. Now more and more of the old fur trading posts were being converted to army forts.

  The flow of people headed for California was overwhelming to the Saxes. Some of the people who were a part of their wagon train were simple farmers, people fleeing worn-out land and higher taxes in the East, searching for something better. But in this year of 1849, most were going to California to prospect for gold.

  There were hordes of people along—merchants, blacksmiths, prostitutes, and some Caleb was convinced were criminals fleeing the law back East. Most of them weren’t even using a wagon, but traveling only with pack mules. Many of the men were single, but there were plenty of married ones along who had left whole families behind. It amazed Caleb that a man would leave his family for gold. It was as though they had been drugged with some strange, powerful craving. “Gold fever” was what some called it, and it seemed to make a man sick in the mind instead of in body.

  Men traveling alone often passed whole wagon trains, determined to be among the first to arrive in California, the first to get at the gold that some seemed to think spilled out of the mountains in virtual rivers. The migration of some of the more degenerate looking was good cause to keep a close eye on Lynda and Sarah. But most took one look at Caleb Sax and thought twice about bothering his women.

  Caleb did not doubt that many of those who hit California would get rich not from the gold, but from feeding the needs of the prospectors. Some of the wealthiest would no doubt be the prostitutes, and he grinned at the way one had been flagrantly batting her eyes at him on the whole trip, making Sarah a bit cranky.

  The trip had not been without its hardships. Two people had accidentally shot themselves, greenhorn farmers who simply did not know how to handle pistols. Wagon axles sometimes snapped; mules and oxen often ran off in the night; wagon wheels sometimes shrank away from their iron braces. People got sick; and some couples got into all-out shouting matches, arguing over why they had come at all. Many had sold whole farms or businesses, sacrificing everything to search for something better, or to find the gold Caleb was sure would be elusive to most.

  It had not taken long for Caleb to overcome the initial shunning they suffered because he was Indian. His skill and knowledge of the land soon made him popular, a man to whom they often turned for advice; and a man they were glad to have along the day a huge party of Crow warriors confronted their train, blocking its movement and demanding a great quantity of food items valuable to the travelers, as well as blankets and tobacco. Their demands might have been met, if not for the fact that they also demanded two young white women, grinning as they gripped tomahawks and rifles they had stolen from other travelers, threatening to burn every wagon.

  To Sarah’s quickening heart it was Caleb who met them head-on, speaking to them in their own tongue mixed with sign language and telling the wagon master their demands. When it came to demanding the white women, there was a flat no from Caleb, who proceeded to tell them-they couldn’t have any of the other things either. The words became more heated as Sarah and Lynda and Jess watched with dread, Jess gripping his rifle. Suddenly the two Crow with whom Caleb spoke looked wide-eyed with surprise at Caleb. They turned to the others and shouted something, and the rest of them looked at Caleb as though he were some kind of spirit.

  One of those close to Caleb raised a tomahawk, and Caleb pulled his huge hunting knife while women gasped, some covering their children’s eyes. Caleb shouted something threatening to the man, as though goading him into using the tomahawk. He circled his horse, which sensed the excitement, and Caleb shouted at all of them. He let out a series of war whoops while every Crow man there just stared.

  Suddenly their apparent leader reached out to his friend and ordered him to put away the tomahawk. Caleb slowly lowered his knife, and there was more conversation between them before Caleb rode back, telling the wagon master they would settle for some tobacco and sugar and a couple of blankets. Travelers quickly donated the necessary items and Caleb took them to the Crow, who turned and left, some casting lingering stares at Caleb.

  Caleb rode back to his own wagon, and Sarah saw the fire and pride in his eyes. For a moment he had been Cheyenne again, and his old hatred of the Crow had been rekindled.

  “What on earth happened, Caleb?” Sarah asked as he dismounted.

  “Those warriors looked at you as if you were a ghost,” Jess put in.

  Caleb could not help a proud grin. “I was, in a way. It was simple. I just told them who I was.” He looked at Jess. “Blue Hawk. When they doubted it I told them things only Blue Hawk would know. One of them thought for a moment about being the one to finally kill the old legend. But he seems to have changed his mind.” He winked at Jess. “I guess this old warrior still has what it takes.”

  Jess broke into a light laugh, and now Sarah could still hear it, still envision the episode. She sighed deeply and she felt Caleb stir now, moving a leg over hers and rubbing his hand over her stomach.

  “You all right, Sarah?”

  “Yes,” she answered quietly. “I’m just thinking about our run-in with the Crow. All these years away from that life, and you handled it as though you were one of them, as though you never left at all.”

  He moved closer and kissed her cheek. “Actually I was hoping the one would use that tomahawk. I was itching for a good fight.”

  “Oh, Caleb!” She pushed at him and laughed, then settled back against the pillow. “Do you realize all we’ve been through, all the places we’ve lived? Now here we are in the middle of the Rockies, on our way to yet another new land. We should be a hundred years old, Caleb.”

  He rested his hand on the curve of her hip. “I agree with you there.”

  Sarah sobered, reflecting. “What’s happening? Sometimes that’s how old I feel. All these people. It makes a person wonder if there is anyone left back East.”

  “Oh, there are plenty left all right. I don’t have to go back there to know.”

  “I remember what Washington was like—alive with people and progress—and that was such a long time ago. And I remember how those people would joke abou
t the land west of the Mississippi, calling it the Great American Desert. They thought it was all so worthless. Now look at them—climbing all over each other to get out here. They’ve taken Texas and made it a state, and now they have New Mexico and Arizona and most of Colorado, California, and a bunch of territory they just call ‘unorganized.’ Everything is so different from when we were children at Fort Dearborn. It’s so hard to imagine there is a city there now.” She turned to face him. “All those years ago, and I can still picture you then. The day I had to leave and go to my father in St. Louis . . .” She shivered. “I’ll always remember watching you standing there on the banks, so handsome. I was only thirteen, but I knew I loved you. God, I loved you, even then.”

  He met her lips, kissing her tenderly. “I’m just glad your health is holding up on this trip. I’m sorry, Sarah, for having to live this way. It will be different when we get to California. I’ve put you through so much.”

  She touched his face. “You know I don’t mind, as long as we’re together. It’s the right thing this time, Caleb, I’m sure. And we’re going to find Tom, I just know it.”

  “I hope so,” he whispered. He pulled her closer. He had begun sleeping in the cramped wagon with her just for warmth. Nights in the Rockies were very cold, even in My, and his worst fear was that she would again contract pneumonia.

  He nibbled at her lips. The hard trail life had meant virtually no sex since they had left Fort Laramie, and suddenly Caleb’s needs became painfully clear.

  “It’s been so long,” he whispered. “Do you feel rested enough? We might not get another chance before reaching California. I hear the trip through the desert is pretty miserable.”

  “I’ve been wanting the same thing,” she whispered.

  He moved his tongue between her lips, pushing up her gown and deftly removing his long underwear. He moved on top of her and ever so gently entered her, moving softly so as not to draw attention from outside.

  She breathed deeply, trying not to make any sound. But she could not keep from moaning softly as she hungrily returned his kisses. Her desire for him seemed more intense this night, passion heating her blood. His big hands moved under her hips, and he filled her completely.

  She thought about the first time Caleb had done this to her, in a cave somewhere in the wilds of Missouri after they had fled St. Louis. She was so young, so innocent, and so much in love. He had been gentle and careful, so sweet and understanding. She wondered how different everything might have been if she had not gotten sick and they could have kept going and settled together.

  They had shared so much. Suffered so much. Now they were seeing the changes, feeling the years slipping away. Every day was precious now. More hardships lay ahead for them on the grueling trail to California, but Sarah was not afraid. No man could take better care of her on such a journey than Caleb Sax. Ahead of them lay California—and a new life. Perhaps in these mellowing years they could at last find that special peace and beauty they so deserved.

  They had left their mark in so many places, and now their descendents were becoming scattered across the land—James in St. Louis, Cale riding the wide plains with the Cheyenne. If both of them married and had children, who could tell how much more scattered the Sax blood would become?

  Sarah moaned as her husband’s life spilled into her. Yes, the blood of Caleb Sax would certainly continue—through Lynda and James and their children and grandchildren. And it had all started so long ago, in the wilds of what was now called Illinois, at a little place called Fort Dearborn, where a small white girl was introduced to a lost and orphaned Indian boy called Blue Hawk.

  • Chapter Twenty-three •

  “Well? What do you think?” Caleb turned to Sarah, halting the lumbering wagon atop a rolling foothill that looked out over the Sacramento Valley. They had just split off from the rest of the wagons and were now traveling only with Jess and Lynda. To Caleb it felt good to be away from so many others. And he was sick of walking along beside oxen.

  No team of horses could handle the arduous trip over both the Rockies and the Sierras, let alone the deserts, at least not while pulling a wagon behind them. So Jess and Caleb had purchased oxen at Fort Laramie, trading more of the horses they had brought to the fort to sell and-taking on oxen instead for pulling their wagons. But oxen had to be led with whips and curses, and both Jess and Caleb had literally walked nearly the entire journey. They had kept four saddle horses, which they had tied to the backs of their wagons, and both men couldn’t wait to get camped somewhere safe and get back on a horse.

  As soon as everyone was settled temporarily, Caleb intended to promptly look for Tom before going any farther. He had deliberately steered clear of the main road the prospectors took to get to this valley, wanting to keep the women away from the streams of strange men, many of whom had not been near a woman for a long time.

  Sarah sucked in her breath at the scene below, momentarily speechless. The journey through the Nevada deserts and over the Sierras had been rigorous and dangerous; many lives had been lost. An early snowstorm had set in while they were in the mountains, halting the wagon train and making everyone wonder if they were doomed to spend the winter buried. And Sarah had been sick through much of the bitter cold.

  Finally the storm had abated, and they struggled over the crest of the mountains to lower elevations where there was less snow. They finally made it to the foothills, where there was no snow at all and the warm sun began to burn out the bitter cold everyone still felt in his bones. Caleb knew now he was here to stay. He would never again subject his Sarah to a trip over those mountains.

  “Oh, Father, it’s beautiful,” Lynda called out from her own wagon.

  “Caleb!” Sarah said softly, tears in her eyes. “It’s like . . . like heaven.” She stared out over hundreds of miles of open land, dotted here and there with vineyards, orchards, and pecan trees. Cabins could be seen scattered miles apart, as well as larger ranch houses and outbuildings. In the distance some horses ran free, and Sarah spotted a string of mules far to the left, loaded down with supplies, a few men walking with them. Prospectors. She thought how sad it was that so many were coming here hungry for gold, paying no heed to the beauty and peace of the land into which they had come. “So much green,” she said softly.

  The sun was setting far into the horizon, over an ocean that could not be seen from this far away. Dusk brought a hazy look to everything, the greens turning to violet, the sky red in the distance.

  “Everything looks like velvet,” Sarah said. “There’s a certain peace here, Caleb. Do you feel it?”

  He nodded, turning to watch her and putting an arm around her shoulders. “How do you feel?”

  She took a deep breath, putting a hand to her chest. “Better. Much better. The pain in my chest is nearly gone.”

  Caleb rubbed a hand over her back. “This place is going to be good for you, Sarah. You’ll see. No more long, cold winters and bitter winds and deep snows. In Texas it was just the opposite—too hot and dry and brown. Here it’s just right. You can grow flowers and have a garden, you can sit in the sun without sweltering, and you can enjoy that sun all year round.”

  She held his eyes. “Wouldn’t it have been nice if we could have come here when we were young?”

  He felt the old pain move through his chest, and he didn’t answer. He stood up and called out to Jess. “We’ll head down a little farther and make camp. Tomorrow morning I’ll saddle up and see if I can find out something about Tom.”

  Jess nodded and Caleb sat down, heading the wagon farther down, hoping they could continue to avoid prospectors. But that would not be easy. They had passed through several camps already, but at least most of them were higher up in the Sierras.

  He had deliberately avoided the several mining towns that had already sprung up, realizing they must be wild, lawless places unfit for women—especially when one of those women looked Indian and the other was married to one. Sometimes at night when they made camp they cou
ld hear piano music and laughter, carried on the mountain winds, a sign that much of the peace that the hills of California once enjoyed had been rudely interrupted by gold-hungry newcomers. But that wouldn’t last forever, and it would take more than a few thousand prospectors to truly destroy the devastating beauty of the land into which they had come.

  They made camp, enjoying the fact that even though the sun was down it was still warm, and no insects bothered them. Far up in the higher foothills and mountains campfires peppered the black night—the campsites of prospectors.

  Caleb sipped coffee, watching Sarah stir some stew. Yes, this land would be good for her. He was sure of it. He could stand to live far from the Cheyenne and the other world he had known, if it would help his Sarah live longer. Now all he had to do was find Tom.

  Caleb stared at the double oak doors to the sprawling and still-unfinished home perched on a hillside overlooking the vast hacienda that supposedly belonged to his son. His heart pounded with a mixture of joy and apprehension. He had searched every mission in San Francisco until he had found a priest who admitted to knowing Tom, then had gladly spilled out the whole story and Tom’s whereabouts when he realized Caleb was the boy’s father.

  The story Father Juarez told tore at Caleb’s heart. He ached with the sorrow of not having been with his son through the horror of what had happened to Juanita, not having been there to stop him from waging his war of revenge and risking his life, not having been there through his terrible suffering after being wounded.

  Thank God there had been the kind priest to help them. Juanita was healed and they were married, and no one better deserved the good fortune they were experiencing now. Juanita was pregnant and they had found gold on their land, enough to make Tom Sax a very rich man. The news when he went back to get Sarah and the others would bring great rejoicing, but he was too anxious to see his son to take the time to go and get them first. They were not so far away. He would get the rest of the family as soon as he saw for himself that this was his Tom. It was almost too good to be true, and he waited hesitantly while one of Tom’s hired hands went inside first.