Love on the Line

by Deeanne Gist

  “Good evening, Bettina.” He tipped his hat.

  “Howdy, Mr. Luke. Miss Georgie.” Her braids had long since come unraveled, her chin had an angry scuff, and more filth than usual coated her sack dress. But the swelling in her jaw had subsided some.

  “I haven’t seen you much today,” Georgie said, reaching out to repair the girl’s hair.

  She immediately drew back. “I been busy.”

  Georgie let her hands drop. “Doing what?”

  “Played me a game o’ ball with the fellers. Shot Mr. Weiss’s mules with my slingshot. Put a lizard down Birdie Jones’s dress. And helped Pa home ’cause he done forgot how to walk.”

  Blinking, Georgie’s lips parted. “You mustn’t put lizards down young ladies’ necks—down anyone’s neck.”

  Bettina squared her shoulders. “Weren’t my idea. Fred Hall paid me a penny to do it.”

  “Fred Hall? Why, he wouldn’t do that. He adores Birdie.”

  A sly grin lifted one side of the girl’s mouth. “I reckon that’s why he spent so much time comfortin’ her afterwards.”

  Georgie choked.

  “What’d you do with your penny?” Luke asked, chuckling.

  “Got me some rock candy.”

  He reached into his pocket. “Well, I can’t help but notice Miss Georgie’s about the only gal out here who doesn’t have a hat. Would you take this nickel over to the Plumage League’s booth and try the hat walk for her?”

  Bettina tried to act nonchalant, but the spark in her eyes was unmistakable. “If ya want me to.”

  “I’d very much appreciate it.”

  Spinning, she raced to get in line. There’d been a steady stream of players all day. He figured the ladies had raised quite a bit of money for their cause.

  “That was thoughtful of you, Luke.”

  “She’s a good kid.” He guided her toward the booth. “I’m not sure she’s had anything to eat other than that rock candy, though.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Well, it’s almost suppertime. Why don’t we take her with us when we stop at the Ladies’ Restaurant booth?”

  “That’d be lovely, though I can’t imagine her eating a whole meal. What if she and I shared?”

  He nodded. “We’ll see.”

  They walked in comfortable silence, feeling no need to fill in the gap. The smell of pig, flowers, food, and beer floated on the breeze, its breath ruffling the fringe on Georgie’s yoke. Children laughed, vendors hawked their wares, and mothers called for their little ones.

  As Luke and Georgie neared the hat walk, she peeked up at him. “Does it bother you that I’m not wearing a hat?”

  He lifted his brows. “Not at all. I was just using it as an excuse to let her play the game.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “You don’t like hats?”

  “I love hats.”

  “Then, why didn’t you wear one?”

  “They were burned up along with the rest.”

  He stopped short. “What do you mean?”

  “I guess the culprits couldn’t tell the difference between my hats and the contest entries. So they burned them all.”

  Exhaling quickly through his teeth, he dragged a hand across his mouth. It never occurred to him her personal hats would be in with the others. “Were they stored in the same place?”

  “No, no. Mine were in the corner by my wardrobe.” She shrugged. “I imagine to a man, a hatbox is a hatbox.”

  He scoured his memory, vaguely remembering a set of hats in the spot she mentioned. But, as she said, he never gave it a thought. He hadn’t wanted to give Necker any reason to hurt her.

  Sighing, he slid his hand down to hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. “It takes me a long time to save for a hat.”

  He looked at Bettina filing in for her turn at the game. “Come on. Maybe it’s your lucky day.”

  Inside the roped-off area, twenty crate lids lay in a circle on the ground, each with a number painted on it. Females of all ages stood on a lid, along with one scowling baseball player from Texas A&M. He’d donned a cadet uniform and slicked down his hair, but Luke remembered his three-run homer, which gave A&M the victory.

  A group of hecklers around the perimeter offered advice to their out-of-place teammate. Luke bit his cheek. Clearly, the boy had lost a dare of some kind.

  When all were in position, a member of the Men’s Glee Club played “Old Heel Fly” on his banjo.

  As long as the music played, the participants stepped from lid to lid. At the end of the chorus, the music stopped, the players stopped, and a number was drawn.

  Standing on the eighteenth lid, Bettina searched the crowd until she found Luke and Georgie. Luke held up crossed fingers, and she responded in kind.

  Mrs. Lee, the lawyer’s wife, drew a number from a decorated basket. “Four!”

  The A&M cadet had already begun to leave the circle when he whipped his head around. His buddies howled, grabbing their stomachs and doubling over with laughter.

  “Woo! You got you a winner this time, Mrs. Lee!” one of them shouted.

  “Pick out a right purty one for Daniel, here. He’s especially fond o’ the ones with lots o’ ribbons.”

  Smiling gamely, Mrs. Lee handed the cadet a hat that looked like a giant mushroom with braid, satin, and lace. The young man flushed with embarrassment until he took in the expressions of his lady competitors. Even Bettina was besotted with the confection.

  A slow smile formed on his face as he tucked his military cap into the back of his waistband and replaced it with the feminine piece of frippery, securing the ties beneath his chin. His buddies roared.

  “Well, I’ve got me a fine hat for tonight’s dance, fellas,” he boomed. “But what I don’t have is a gal I can give it to.” He paused, giving meaningful looks to the girls he favored. “But if’n I could persuade one of these lovely ladies to accompany me tonight, I might be talked into lettin’ her take my prize home for safekeepin’.”

  Bettina immediately stepped forward. “I’ll go with ya. But I don’t want yer hat. You can give it ta my friend, Miss Georgie.”

  Daniel’s teammates broke into another round of hilarity, but the cadet was not to be put off. Tweaking Bettina’s cheek, he winked. “That’s a mighty tempting offer, miss, but I’m afraid you’re a bit too short to serve as a suitable dancing partner.” He ran his gaze over a young woman closer to his age. “Might there be another interested party?”

  The entire group of spectators held their breath. Taking him up on his offer would be nothing short of scandalous, but the hat looked ridiculous on him and sang a siren’s song to the girls.

  Shrugging, Daniel turned to Mrs. Lee. “Well, looks like it’ll be me and my hat going to the ball. Such a shame, too, for—”

  “I’ll go.”

  Daniel spun around, the hat a second behind and falling to the side. The young lady stepped forward, a vision in her white frilly dress and dark brown hair.

  As Daniel pushed the hat up into place, his Adam’s apple bobbed. His friends stared in stunned silence.

  Still, it didn’t take long for the cadet to recover. Straightening, he untied the hat, placed it on the lady’s head, tied it in a tight boy’s bow, then stepped back. “Miss Grant, would you care to join me at the dance?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Mr. August.” Joheather Grant, the daughter of a new phone subscriber west of town, laid her hand on his arm.

  All parted to let them through. Just before clearing the crowd, he slanted a victorious glance at his friends, all with comical expressions of shock.

  Georgie sighed. Luke flashed her a glance. What a romantic she was. Again, he felt a pang of guilt about her hats. Some way or another, he’d have to make it up to her.

  “Sorry, Mr. Luke,” Bettina barked, her legs straddled, arms akimbo. “I done tried.”

  “And it was a valiant try, missy. Thank you.” He placed a hand on his stomach. “Did you
hear that? My stomach is growling something fierce. Where’s the best place to find supper, do you think?”

  “Them ladies over yonder been cookin’ up a storm all day. I’d go there if’n I was you.”

  Frowning, he nodded. “I thought about that, but I’ve noticed Miss Georgie doesn’t clean her plate the way she ought.”

  Bettina’s eyes widened. “She don’t?”

  “Nope. And I don’t like wasting good coin on food which doesn’t get eaten.”

  The girl scratched her jaw. “Well, that’s a problem, then.”

  “I have an idea,” Georgie said. “What if Bettina and I shared a plate?”

  “Well, now. There’s an idea.” He looked at Bettina. “You think you could help me out again? It’d only be through supper; then you’d be free to go back and do whatever it is you had planned.”

  Slipping her hands in her pockets, she pretended to consider it. “Well, I reckon I could. But after supper you’re gonna be on yer own. I can’t be holdin’ yer hand all night, you know.”

  He bit back a smile. “I understand.” He extended a hand in an after-you gesture. “Lead the way.”

  The girl marched toward the concession booth, arms swinging, hair bouncing.

  Georgie slipped her hand through his elbow, leaned into his arm, and mouthed a thank you.

  Smiling, he followed Bettina at a more sedate pace.

  Chapter Thirty

  Instead of reviving her, supper made Georgie sleepier than ever. She’d only snatched a bit of slumber the night before. Surely Luke couldn’t be much better off.

  But if he were tired, he gave no sign of it.

  The pavilion had been cleared of its chairs, leaving its polished and waxed floor open for the two hundred couples who’d followed the queen and her escort in during the Grand March.

  Whisking Georgie around the floor to “Hannah Go Hide Your Bloomers,” Luke led her with a confident hand and steady step. After the last note, the assembly applauded. Luke and some of the others let out loud whistles.

  Stifling a yawn, she swayed.

  “You all right?” he asked, leading her from the floor.

  “I’m having a marvelous time, Luke, but last night’s beginning to catch up with me.”

  His expression softened. “You tired?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, come on, then. I’ll walk you home.”

  “Can we rest a minute first?”

  “Of course.” But there wasn’t an empty bench or chair to be found. “How about a piggyback ride?”

  She gave a small huff of laughter.

  Pulling her hand further into his arm, he tightened his hold. “Let’s head on home. We can always stop along the way for a rest.”

  She nodded her response and they meandered through the park, finally reaching North Street. A jam of buckboards with heavy-eyed children and content parents crawled along the road. Crickets competed with the faint strains of “In the Good Ol’ Summer Time” coming from the now distant pavilion.

  A cart full of Texas A&M baseball players pulled alongside them, waiting in line behind the other wagons. The young men lounged against its sides, talking softly and swaying in time to the music.

  At the chorus, one of them began to sing along in a clear tenor voice.

  In the good ol’ summer time,

  In the good ol’ summer time,

  Strolling thro’ the shady lanes,

  With your baby mine;

  Luke slid Georgie’s hand down to his, then intertwined their fingers. One by one, the other baseball players added their voices to the tenor’s. Not in a boisterous manner, but in harmony as pleasing as any barbershop quartet she’d ever heard.

  You hold her hand and she holds yours,

  And that’s a very good sign,

  That she’s your tootsey wootsey, in

  The good ol’ summer time.

  A soft breeze lifted a tendril from her neck, some of her curls loosening after the long day’s activities. Ahead of them, a couple in a spring-top buggy lent their voices as well.

  To swim in the pool, you’d play hooky from school,

  Good old summer time;

  You’d play ring-a-rosie with Jim, Kate and Josie,

  Good old summer time.

  She smiled, thinking of the days when she, her brother, and her little sister thought nothing of running barefoot, climbing trees, and gigging frogs. More and more voices from surrounding wagons joined in.

  Those days full of pleasure we now fondly treasure,

  When we never thought it a crime,

  To go stealing cherries, with face brown as berries,

  Good old summer time.

  Luke slid his arm around her waist, tucking her against him and keeping his strides slow and small to match hers. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder, trusting him to steer her.

  In the good ol’ summer time,

  In the good ol’ summer time,

  Strolling thro’ the shady lanes,

  With your baby mine;

  You hold her hand and she holds yours,

  And that’s a very good sign,

  That she’s your tootsey wootsey, in

  The good ol’ summer time.

  The silence at the end of the song was full of kinship and belonging. The Bible might say faith, hope, and love, with the greatest being love. But Georgie had discovered in a German community like Brenham, it was cards, dominoes, and singing, with the greatest being singing.

  Luke turned a corner. She fluttered her eyes open but left her head against him. He was cutting down Academy Street instead of staying on North the whole way.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” she asked.

  Cicadas kept up a thrum as steady as her heartbeat.

  “I had a brother growing up.”

  “Me too. And a sister.”

  He said nothing.

  “Did the two of you steal cherries?” she asked, referring to the song.

  “Not cherries. But we got into plenty of trouble.”

  She smiled. “I miss those days.”

  “I miss my brother.”

  “You don’t see him much?”

  “He’s dead.”

  A distant dog barked. She lifted her head a bit to look up at him. “When did he die?”

  “In ninety-six.”

  Sighing, she closed her eyes again. 1896. Her brother had died in ’95 of a cold which moved into his chest. “What happened to him?”

  “He was shot and killed.”

  Jerking straight, her eyes flew open. “What?”

  He stared into the distance, his face slackening. “It’s a long story.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Nineteen.”

  Her chest tightened. “Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  Something about his tone gave her pause. His remark didn’t express grief so much as it did self-reproach.

  “Tell me.” The words were out before she could collect them. But he’d taken her so off guard.

  Heaving a sigh, he slowly continued down Academy. This time, he didn’t take her hand. “I was fifteen, Alec just eleven months behind me in age. But he always seemed a lot younger. Maybe because he was so much smaller than me. I don’t know. But this particular year, I considered myself a full-grown man.”

  She didn’t know if it was the moonlight, this day they’d spent together, or the experience they’d shared the night before, but on some primal level she knew this was not something he talked about often—if ever. Unclipping the fan from her chatelaine, she opened it and stirred up a gentle draft.

  “I did a man’s part on our farm. I cut and hauled wood to town for money. I spent my nights hunting raccoons in the dark woods with my hounds. I called on the young ladies.” He took a deep breath. “And I developed a taste for whiskey.”

  A light in the window of a home up ahead was snuffed out, plunging that side of the house into darkness. A few secon
ds later, the light in the room next to it went out as well.

  He slid his hands in his pockets. “One night, I took Alec with me to the still-house and we tasted a bit more than we should’ve.”

  She glanced down. Her brother had only been thirteen when he died. Not nearly old enough to have sown any wild oats. But she knew well the effect liquor could have on a man who imbibed too much. Her stepfather was living proof of that.

  “On our way home,” Luke continued, “I talked him into racing down Main Street and shooting out the windows of businesses closed up for the night. I’d do one side, he’d do the other, then we’d compare to see who shot the most the fastest.” He shook his head. “Alec and I were both crack shots, even then. But he was no match for me. I’d already made it to the other end of Main, when the sheriff caught Alec only halfway finished.”

  The sidewalk ended. He cupped her elbow, assisting her with the transition from board to dirt, then let his hand drop. “Before I could organize a rescue party, the sheriff whisked Alec away to the state prison, where he served for three years.”

  She closed her fan, pressing it against her waist. Three years? For shooting out windows? “That seems an awfully severe punishment for a boyhood prank.”

  “It was because of me. The sheriff and I had had many collisions. I was hotheaded, wiry, and fearless, and had yet to develop any moral principles. My Achilles’ heel, though, was my brother. And Sheriff Glaser knew it. He had connections with the boys over at State. All he had to do was throw out some trumped-up charges and Alec’s fate was sealed.”

  She reattached her fan, then pulled off her gloves one finger at a time before slipping them into her hidden pocket. “So he was eighteen when he got out?”

  “We both were. I went to meet him and bring him home, but when I arrived I found out he’d been released three days earlier.” He shook his head. “I tracked him for weeks on end, catching a trail, then losing it, then catching it again until it finally went cold.”

  “Did he know you were looking for him?”

  “He knew, but he didn’t have much use for a brother who turned tail and ran instead of coming back to rescue him from the sheriff.”