People turned to stare, but no one said anything or tried to question her. At any moment, she expected to hear the sheriff yelling, “Stop! You’re kidnapping those children!”
Or worse yet, the orphanage lady running after them, having her thrown in jail for kidnapping and putting the children on a train back to New York City.
What the hell had she been thinking? They’d be expecting her back at the Diamond Horseshoe by dark, but as busy as they were tonight with all those people crowding in for the run, maybe they wouldn’t miss her for hours.
“Slow down,” Kessie called. “Boo Hoo can’t walk fast.”
Violet paused and turned to look. All the children were puffing and the little blond baby was crying again. Limpy had fallen way behind but was trying manfully to catch up, walking with his crutch.
Harold looked up at her with his big almond eyes. “I’m hungry. Have you got any food?”
She tried to remember what she had heard about Oriental people. “You want rice, right?”
He made a face. “I hate rice. I’d go for some fried potatoes.”
“I don’t have anything right now.” Violet tried to think. She couldn’t take them back to the saloon to feed because Frenchie, the bartender, would toss them out in the street. She opened her tiny reticule and searched through it; just what she’d thought, not more than a dollar, so she couldn’t take them into a café. Besides, they’d attract too much attention in a restaurant and someone might call the sheriff. How could she have gotten herself into such a mess? She’d been making plans to get away while Duke and Slade were gone, but she had no chance with no money and all these extra mouths to feed. Why had she taken them on? Then she looked down into four sad faces and knew. Three large, lurching wagons passed, stirring up dust, all headed for the south edge of town to wait for Monday’s land run. Then she had a thought: was it possible she could beg a ride into the Indian Territory for herself and four little urchins? Right now, she didn’t have a better idea.
People didn’t seem to be staring at the children as much as they were at her. After all, there were a lot of children with the settlers, but one seldom saw a saloon girl in red satin walking down the street leading such a bedraggled parade. She had to blend in. How?
“Kids, I’ll figure out something.”
Limpy smiled up at her. “You’re pretty. How come you aren’t married?”
“I’d like to be,” she blurted before she thought. Who would marry a saloon girl? Maybe if she got to a new town where they didn’t know her, she could start all over again.
They began walking again and passed a wagon parked out in front of the general store. A pretty young girl stuck her head out the back. “That’s an awfully pretty dress, miss.”
Violet paused and looked up at the country girl, thinking she was being sarcastic, but the girl looked friendly. “Would you like to own it?”
“Sure,” said the girl, “but I reckon it cost a lot. I don’t have any money.”
Violet thought fast. The girl in the covered wagon was about her size and wore a plain blue gingham dress. “I’ll trade you even up,” Violet said. “Your dress for mine.”
“You must be joking,” the girl said. “Your dress is so fancy.”
“I’m not joking,” Violet answered. “I’ll climb up there and we’ll just switch clothes.”
The girl hesitated. “I don’t know what Pa will say when he comes out of the store.”
“Well, put on something else and hide it from him,” Violet said. “Just think, when you get to your new town, how pretty you’ll be in this dress.”
The girl giggled. “I’ll do it!” She reached down, took Violet’s hand and lifted her into the wagon.
In minutes, Violet clambered down to the street wearing the blue gingham and plain black shoes, looking like any country girl.
Boo Hoo looked up at her. “Feathers.” She smiled.
“Oh, those.” Violet reached up to yank the scarlet plumes out of her brown hair and handed them to the girl in the wagon.
Boo Hoo started crying. Violet picked her up. Her bloomers were wet. “Feathers,” Boo Hoo wept.
“My name is Violet, like the flowers,” she corrected. “Folks say my eyes are just that color. Now come along, before her pa comes out of that store.”
They walked a little farther. It was late afternoon now and would soon be dusk.
“Gosh,” said Kessie, “you look almost like a kid yourself in that dress, Violet.”
“Yes, I know. Men always said I could pass for a kid if I needed to.” She stopped dead, an idea beginning to form in her mind. She set Boo Hoo down on the edge of the wooden sidewalk and the child promptly began to cry.
“Please stop,” Violet begged.
Limpy leaned on his crutch. “You’re wasting your breath, ma’am. She cries all the time; that’s why no one wanted to adopt her even if she is pretty.”
“And she wets her drawers,” Harold added.
“Oh, Lord.” She had half a mind to take them all back to the train station and leave them. She might manage an escape by herself, but dragging along four orphans made it nearly impossible.
Kessie looked at her intently, still chewing her nails. “You taking us back to the train?”
That one was too smart.
“I didn’t give it a thought,” Violet lied because all four looked so sad. She walked over and looked at her reflection in a nearby horse trough. Kessie was right, she did look much younger in the plain blue dress, except for all the face paint and eye kohl. Maybe, just maybe, her new idea might work. She leaned over and began to wash her face, shoving aside a bay mare drinking there and trying not to think of how many horses had drunk out of this trough.
Now she turned back to face the children as she dried her face on her cotton skirt. “Better?”
Harold pursed his lips. “You didn’t quite get it all.”
Back to the horse trough.
“What about now? Do you think I could pass as a kid myself?”
The children eyed her critically.
Kessie said, “You better do something about your hair. It’s too fancy up on your head. Little girls don’t do that.”
Violet knew her hair was fancy. Didn’t the Diamond Horseshoe have a black maid who kept all the whores’ hair looking good?
Violet took her hairpins out and her brown locks fell well below her small shoulders. She began to comb it with her fingers. Then as the children watched, she braided her hair into two pigtails. “Now how do I look?”
They all stared at her. “Young,” they said in unison, except Boo Hoo, who said, “Feathers.”
Violet sighed. “Okay, I am just like all of you; I came off the orphan train and I’m thirteen years old, going on fourteen.”
Kessie looked up at her. “You want us to lie?”
Oh, dear, she had gotten an orphan with scruples. She’d make a good suffragette all right. “We’ll just pretend for a while, okay? You see, there’s a bad man looking for me, too, and I need to run away just like you do. Maybe all five of us can do it.”
Limpy drew a circle in the dust with his crutch. “Now just how are we going to do that?”
“I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, but I’m working on it, okay? Now remember, I am Violet and I am thirteen years old.”
All the children nodded. Could she pull this off? And even if she could, how was she going to get all five of them out of town when she didn’t have enough money for even one train ticket? She leaned over and looked at her reflection in the horse trough. She was short and slight. Duke had always complained about how small her breasts were. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince people that she was only thirteen years old, but then what?
It was turning dusk now on the bustling street.
“What are all these people doing here?” Limpy asked.
“I’m hungry,” Kessie said.
“We’re all hungry,” Violet answered. “All these people are here for the big land run day a
fter tomorrow. They’ll all line up and the army will fire a cannon and they’ll race into Indian Territory.”
“And then what?” Kessie asked.
Boo Hoo was crying again and Violet picked her up, wet drawers and all, and hugged her close.
“Everybody races in,” Violet said, “and the ones who get there first will win a farm or a town lot so they can start a business.”
Limpy looked wistful. “That would be nice, if we had a farm or a ranch where we could all live as a family. I always wanted to be a cowboy.”
Kessie said, “You can’t be a cowboy, you’re crippled.”
“Hush,” Violet said. “That isn’t kind. Cowboys ride horses and in the saddle—it doesn’t matter if you’ve got a bad leg.”
They started walking again.
Harold said, “Why don’t we race and get a farm?”
“That’s silly.” Violet shrugged as they walked south along Main Street. “We don’t have any horses or equipment and besides, you have to be twenty-one to stake a claim.”
Kessie asked, “Are they allowing women to race or is this another thing just for men?”
Yes, this kid would make a great suffragette.
Violet shook her head. “No, I think women can race, too, but we don’t have any horses.” Besides which, Violet thought, she was only nineteen, going on twenty, so that let her out.
“I’m hungry,” Boo Hoo sobbed against her shoulder. The blue gingham was getting sodden and the child was heavy for a slight girl like herself to carry, but Violet gritted her teeth, adjusted the weight and started walking south again. They were almost to the edge of town. In the distance, she saw the wagons lined up by the dozens, the owners camping under the trees by the creek, waiting for Monday’s race.
She was hungry, too. Violet felt like weeping with Boo Hoo, but she knew crying didn’t do any good. She had to take action, just like she had when her mother died of yellow fever back in Memphis. After that, she and her little brother begged and stole food along the docks to survive. Then in desperation, she’d started picking up men on the streets to feed herself and Tommy. Poor Tommy. She choked back a sob. After three years, he got yellow fever in the summer and she had only herself to look after. She thought she could better herself by coming west, but no one wanted to hire her except saloon owners. She’d listened to Duke’s promises of marriage, but he was like the others, only wanting to use her himself and make money off her body. Well, now was her chance to escape, but she was weighed down with four children. What to do?
“I’m hungry,” said Kessie behind her.
“So am I,” Limpy echoed.
Boo Hoo began to cry again.
“I’ll get us some food,” Violet promised, but she wasn’t sure how. “Let’s walk over to all those wagon people. Maybe someone down that line will offer to feed us.”
They started walking and had to stop once for Limpy to catch up. “I’m sorry,” he said, shame-faced. “One of my legs is shorter than the other and I just can’t keep up.”
“It’s all right.” Violet patted his thin shoulder. “We can slow down a little.”
There must have been a hundred buggies and covered wagons stretched out along the creek and some men with just a horse and a blanket spread out by campfires.
They approached the first wagon and Violet gave the lady her saddest smile. “Please, ma’am, we’re all orphans and we’re hungry. Could you spare us a little of that bird you’re cooking?”
The woman shook her head. “Sorry, honey, I got five kids of my own in the wagon and this might barely feed them.”
Boo Hoo began to cry again as they walked to the next wagon. A middle-aged farmer was stirring a pot of chili.
“Please, mister,” Violet said, “we’re orphans and we’re hungry. Could you spare us a little?”
He looked Violet up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. “How old are you, honey?”
“Thirteen.”
The man grinned. “Young, just like I like ’em. You crawl into the wagon for a few minutes with me, kid, and I’ll feed all of you.”
Limpy grabbed her arm and stepped in front of her. “No, she ain’t doing that.”
“Then starve, you little beggars!” The man cursed them and they hurried away.
It was growing dark now and Violet was getting a headache. There was food aplenty for her at the Diamond Horseshoe, but she shuddered at the thought of going back there and besides, she couldn’t abandon these kids.
They next came to a buggy where a young man and woman sat by a campfire eating bread and butter.
Violet said. “Please, ma’am, we’re hungry orphans. Could you spare us a little?”
The lady had a kind face. She stared up at little Boo Hoo. “Why is she crying?”
“Because she’s hungry, ma’am,” Harold said.
The lady said to her husband. “Isn’t that the cutest baby you ever saw?”
“Now, Lucinda, don’t even think—”
“She’s an orphan, too?” the young woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Violet said.
“Then why don’t you give her to me?” The young woman stood up and held out her hands. “We don’t have any children and we’d love to take—”
Boo Hoo set up a howl that could be heard a mile away and clung to Violet like a baby monkey. “No! No! Feathers! Stay with Feathers!”
Kessie, Limpy and Harold all presented a front, stepping in front of Violet. Violet said, “I’m sorry, we can’t give her away. You see, we’re all family.”
“I’d give her a good home,” the woman said.
Violet shook her head and began backing from the couple. “No, we just can’t do that.”
The five scurried away with the woman calling after them. Violet’s heart was beating hard. Maybe the couple would have given Boo Hoo a good home, but suddenly this seemed like her own little girl and she couldn’t let her go.
They walked a little farther and found an older couple with a sad-looking wagon with two worn-out old horses.
Violet hated to even ask. “Ma’am, we’re orphans and we’re all hungry. Could you spare anything? Maybe some milk for the baby?”
The old woman looked sad. “I can give you a little bread, that’s all. If we don’t get some land in this run, I don’t know what we’re gonna do.” She held out a partial loaf, and Violet took it and divided it among the children.
Kessie looked at her with a keen eye. “Violet, you ain’t gonna eat none?”
“I—I’m not hungry,” Violet lied. “You four eat it. There’ll be something better along the way.”
It was dark now as they started back down the line of campfires. They paused at another wagon and two men hunched over a campfire scowled at them. The smell of brewing coffee wafted to Violet’s nose and she wished she had a cup of it. The men appeared to be eating a hunk of beef they had roasted over the fire.
Violet said, “Please, we’re orphans. Could you spare just enough for the little ones?”
“Orphans, huh?” one man snarled. “Why are you begging? Why don’t you get jobs instead of asking honest citizens for handouts?”
“Never mind,” Violet said. “Come on, kids.”
As they walked away, Violet felt the heavy responsibility of her big, new family. Just how was she going to feed these kids? In desperation, she decided if she had to, she’d wait until the camp was asleep and try stealing food. She’d hate doing that, but these kids were hungry.
Up ahead was another camp. There were two horses tied away from the campfire, a gray and an Appaloosa grazing contentedly. A big man lay stretched out under blankets by the fire. A black pot boiled merrily and it smelled like stew. What’s more, she could smell coffee.
They walked up and stood by the sleeping man, who was still in shadow. A spotted dog with a stubby tail raised its head and began to bark at them. The man stirred slightly.
Violet cleared her throat. “Please, mister, would you be willing to share your food? We’
re awfully hungry.”
“Huh? What?” The big man sat up suddenly and stared at her, evidently having trouble focusing his eyes.
Oh, dear. Violet recognized him. It was the Texas Ranger she’d seen in the gunfight earlier this afternoon.
The dog rose up from beside the fire and growled at them, but Violet was too hungry to be deterred. “Please, mister, we’re all orphans. Can you help me and my brothers and sisters?”
Travis had a tremendous headache as he tried to focus his eyes. Growler ran toward the children. “Watch out,” he yelled. “Growler don’t like people much.”
The young girl in the blue dress put the blond toddler down and the baby stopped crying and walked uncertainly toward the dog. “Puppy. My puppy.”
As Travis watched in amazement, the old dog looked at the toddler, then began to wag his stubby tail. Growler walked over to the baby and began licking her tear-stained face.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Travis said.
“Please, sir, I must insist you don’t cuss in front of the kids.”
He took a good look at the straggly crew: an indignant brown-haired girl about thirteen, a thin crippled white boy leaning on a crutch, an Oriental kid, a homely little girl with frizzy red hair and buck teeth, and the blond toddler who now had her arms wrapped around Travis’s dog, her eyes all swollen and red.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked.
“Nothing.” The oldest girl shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe she misses her mother, that’s all.”
“Where are your parents?” His wrist was throbbing and he wished they’d all go away and let him sleep.
“We don’t have any,” answered the oldest girl. “We’re hungry. Can we have some of your stew?”
He hesitated. Feeding stray children might be like feeding a stray dog. That’s how he had ended up with Growler. He sure didn’t need a ready-made family.
“Are you deaf, mister?” the girl asked.
Travis Page 3