Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  He said to the oldest boy who looked like he was about fourteen. “Son, you all got a rifle?”

  The dirty-faced urchin nodded. “An old one, but no bullets.”

  “Now you do.” Travis reached into his saddlebags and tossed him a handful. “You look after the family and I’ll give your dad a ride into Guthrie to file his claim.”

  The whole family looked surprised.

  The man said, “You’d do that?”

  “I’m a Texan. Even though you’re breakin’ the law, I can’t fault you, knowing how bad you need this farm. I’ll give you a ride to the Land Office and you can catch a ride back. There’ll be wagons comin’ this way.”

  The woman started crying. “God bless you, sir.”

  Travis shrugged, embarrassed. “Don’t take on so, ma’am. Can you and the kids get along for a day or two until your man gets back?”

  She nodded. “Josh and me’ll hold off any claim jumpers.”

  “Ain’t you gonna keep racing?” a young girl asked.

  Travis shook his head. “I reckon by now most of the good land is gone and my horse is tired. Come on, mister.” Travis mounted up. He reached his hand down to the ragged farmer and lifted him up behind him. They stopped at the creek to let the horse drink and then Travis started north at a walk.

  So he had lost his chance at a claim. Funny, he didn’t much care. He probably could still get some land that wasn’t so good or a town lot, but that didn’t interest him.

  The man didn’t say much as they rode and finally came into Guthrie. It was a wild, confused scene of tents and shacks being hammered together along a crooked dirt path that was meant to be a street. Uniformed soldiers rode about to keep the peace. Already saloons and eateries had set up with nothing more than a couple of boards set up over barrels and a piece of canvas stretched to keep the sun off.

  Travis yelled at a passing soldier. “Hey, where’s the Land Office?”

  The blue-coated soldier pointed down the row of tents. “Can’t miss it.”

  “Much obliged.” Travis nodded his thanks and started riding through the crowded streets. The Land Office had a long line out in front and soldiers to keep order. He reined in and let the skinny farmer slide off. “Well, here you go. You got enough to pay the fee?”

  “Yep.” The man reached up to shake Travis’s hand. “Just barely got it. Can’t thank you enough, stranger.”

  “You got anything for groceries?”

  The man hesitated. “We’re makin’ out all right.”

  Travis dug in his pocket. “Here’s a dollar. I ain’t got much more than that. Buy a few potatoes and some canned milk to take back to those kids.”

  “I can’t take your charity. You already done enough.” The man backed away, protesting.

  Travis reached over and stuck the dollar in the man’s torn shirt pocket. “I insist. For the kids.”

  “Thank you kindly.” The man’s eyes teared up.

  “Now get in that line and get your claim registered,” Travis ordered and turned Mouse around, rode away.

  The street was dusty and full of bustling people, some of them camping and building fires right where others were hammering boards together. “Is there a creek around here?” He grabbed a passing farmer.

  “Thata way.” The farmer pointed. “Otherwise, you got to buy it by the glass.”

  Travis saw the sign then: DIP OF WATER 50C. Outrageous, he thought as he headed toward the creek. The sign said: COTTONWOOD CREEK.

  There were families camped along the stream. Some of them looked sad and discouraged. As he let Mouse drink his fill, he said to a dispirited old man sitting on the bank, “You didn’t get a claim?”

  The old man shook his head. “They said there was three times as many people as there was land claims. I just wasn’t fast enough. How about you?”

  Travis hesitated, then took off his hat and splashed his face with the cool water. He wasn’t about to tell about the poor Sooner family. “Me, neither.” He took a long drink from the creek and put his hat back on.

  He heard gunfire from the center of the makeshift town. “Sounds like some of the boys are already getting liquored up.”

  The old man nodded. “Reckon by dark, it’ll be wild and wooly, even saloon girls coming in on the train, I hear. Don’t think the soldiers will be able to keep a lid on it.”

  “Maybe not.” Travis nodded and led his horse away from the creek. It might be hours before little Violet and the kids showed up here in Guthrie. He didn’t really owe her anything; he could just ride on south to Texas. What he was going to do once he got there, he wasn’t sure, but it was evident there was nothing for him here.

  His wrist throbbed and he took Mr. Brown’s small bottle out of his saddlebag and took a long drink. He heard gunfire again as he walked toward the center of the town of tents and instant shacks being constructed. At one tent, they already had a roulette wheel set up and scantily clad girls stood outside, urging men to come inside.

  “Hey, honey.” A painted girl with dyed yellow hair grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you come in? I can show you a real good time.”

  “I bet you could.” He shrugged her off and kept walking. She had made him think of Emily. He gritted his teeth, hating loose women and everything they represented.

  Yes, the old man was right; by dark, this instant town might be out of control, men drunk, guns firing, pickpockets working the crowd and fights in the street. Not a good place to leave a young girl and a bunch of kids to fend for themselves. Besides he wanted his dog back. He’d at least stay here until Violet arrived. Maybe he could try to help place all the children with decent people, if there were any in this wild mob. Travis found a big oak with some shade, staked Mouse out to graze and lay down in the grass, pulled his hat over his eyes. He was dog-tired. He’d sleep awhile and then start watching for the ox wagon.

  It was almost dark when he felt a small foot nudge him gently. “Hey, Mr. Prescott, how’d you do in the run?”

  He sat up and blinked. Looking down at him was the young girl and all the kids. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” he said, stretched and stood up.

  “Did you get a claim?” Kessie asked while Limpy stroked Mouse’s nose and talked to the horse.

  He was ashamed. He felt he’d failed at his responsibility. “No, I didn’t. It’s a long story that I don’t want to talk about.”

  “You didn’t?” Violet exclaimed. “You had such a fast horse.”

  “Yeah, but someone else needed the land worse than I did.”

  “You gave it away?” Harold looked up at him with big almond eyes.

  “Well, sort of.” He stared at Violet and something told him she understood without telling her. “So here we all are. Judging from what I’ve seen of this crowd, I’m not sure we can find enough good people to take all you kids.”

  Boo Hoo began to cry and hugged Growler’s neck. “No, no, don’t want a new family.”

  Travis shrugged helplessly at Violet. “Young lady, I’ve kept my promise to get you all to Guthrie. I doubt anyone’s looking for you here. Now let’s look around and see if we can find homes.”

  She looked crestfallen. “All right. There’s bound to be some good people in this crowd.”

  They started walking, Violet leading the ox wagon and Travis leading his horse. Growler followed along behind as Harold carried Boo Hoo.

  They passed a man building a house. He looked like a family man, Travis thought. He stopped. “Mister, would you like to adopt Harold here?” He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “An Oriental kid? Now why would I want him?” the red-faced man sneered. “There’s a laundry being built down the block—Chinese, I think. Take him down there.”

  Harold drew himself up proudly. “I don’t intend to do laundry. I want to be a doctor or a scientist.”

  The man laughed. “And he’s fresh, besides. Get used to the idea, you little Chink, all your future is laundry or running an opium den.”

  �
��Why you—!” Travis drew back his fist, but Violet grabbed his arm.

  “No, Mr. Prescott, let’s not get into a fight. We’ll find better people.”

  They kept walking.

  Violet said, “Now there’s a nice-looking couple. Maybe they’d like a little girl.”

  Travis looked. They were an older couple and perhaps a prosperous one. The man had muttonchop sideburns and wore a gold pocket watch and chain, and the lady wore a fancy bonnet. They walked over to them.

  “Excuse me.” Travis took off his hat. “We’re trying to find a home for this baby girl. Wouldn’t you like to have her?”

  Boo Hoo burst into tears and hugged Growler’s neck.

  “Why the poor little thing,” the woman clucked sympathetically. “Why, she’s so sweet and we don’t have any children. What do you think, Horace?”

  Horace looked down at the crying child. “Yes, the poor little thing looks like she could use a home.” He reached to take Boo Hoo’s hand and she promptly kicked him in the shins so that he backed away.

  Violet said, “She’s tired, that’s all.”

  “Not go without doggie,” Boo Hoo wept.

  The woman wrinkled her nose. “The dog? That scruffy mutt? We have to take the dog, too?”

  “Now just a minute,” Travis said. “Growler is a good dog and smart, too.”

  The woman made a face. “I can’t stand dogs.”

  “Doggie, my doggie,” Boo Hoo wept. “Feathers, don’t make me go.”

  Immediately Violet knelt and gathered the sobbing child into her arms. “They’d give you a nice home, honey.”

  “No, no, no!” Boo Hoo screamed and now people were turning to look at the scene she was making.

  Limpy came forward. and looked up at Travis, tears in his dark eyes. “Please, Mr. Ranger, don’t let them take her.”

  “We’ll give her a good home,” Horace said.

  By now all the children were gathered around Boo Hoo as if to protect her and Growler bared his teeth at the prosperous would-be parents.

  “My heavens!” gasped the woman. “And the dog is a vicious beast!”

  “Never mind,” Travis said and bent over and picked up Boo Hoo with his good arm. “I don’t think you’re the right people to adopt this little girl.”

  Boo Hoo put her arms around his neck and sobbed. Travis sighed. Her drawers were wet again.

  He looked down at Violet and she smiled up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They all started walking.

  “Well, hell,” Travis muttered, “this ain’t gonna be as easy as I thought.”

  “Please don’t swear in front of the children,” Violet said primly.

  Behind him, he heard the defeated voice of Limpy. “We told you we was rejects. None of these people really want us.”

  Violet patted his thin shoulder as he hobbled along on his crutch. “I’m sure that’s not true. We just haven’t found the right families yet.”

  It was dark now and a rowdy, drunken cowboy galloped down the street, shouting and shooting his pistol in the air.

  “This is going to be a rough town for a while,” Travis grumbled, “in spite of the army. There’s too many people to keep corralled.”

  Boo Hoo had gone to sleep against his shoulder. They walked past a tent where a small piano banged away and girls with too little clothes and too much paint on their faces tried to beckon him in. “Hey, big boy, we know how to show a guy like you a good time.”

  Travis brushed them off and turned to look down into Violet’s fresh young face. “Don’t look, young lady. Them’s bad women and you’re too innocent to know about the likes of them.”

  Violet looked up at him, feeling her cheeks burn. If he only knew her background . . . but of course he didn’t and she wanted to keep it that way. She could probably go to work in that very tent at top wages and make more than enough to look after these four orphans, but what kind of a life would that be? Besides, it wouldn’t include Travis Prescott. “I’ll bet I could get a job there, maybe serving sandwiches or something.” She looked up at him.

  “Sandwiches?” he snorted. “That’s not what they’re selling. That’s no place for an innocent kid like you. Now come on, let’s get away from here.”

  In truth, if he didn’t have these five kids with him, he’d welcome a drink and a hand of cards and maybe a few minutes on the cot with one of these painted whores, but he had little money and five responsibilities.

  They walked the length of the town, looking over people they might consider letting adopt the children, but the more Travis looked, the worse all these people seemed to him. He couldn’t imagine letting any of them have these kids. These were special kids and he decided none of these settlers was good enough to give them homes.

  They had walked a long way. Boo Hoo was still asleep on his shoulder with Growler following patiently behind and Violet and the kids, Mouse and the ox wagon still trailing along.

  They passed another makeshift saloon, and a cowboy stumbled out and tipped his hat to Violet. “Hello, there, baby, let me buy you a drink.” He grabbed her wrist.

  Travis stopped and glared down at him. “Listen, hombre, you let go of that innocent young lady or I’ll wipe up this street with you!”

  The man seemed to take one look at the size and expression of Travis and backed away. “Sorry, mister, I didn’t know it was your daughter.”

  “He was harmless,” Violet protested to Travis.

  “Drunks need to keep their hands off nice girls,” Travis growled.

  “I’m hungry,” Kessie said, chewing her nails.

  “So am I,” Harold echoed.

  Travis stopped and looked at all of them. In the darkness, he could see how exhausted and hungry they all were.

  Violet shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott. I really thought we’d find our own way and you wouldn’t have to mess with us after today. I reckon you’ve done your part and can ride on.”

  “It’s all right,” he answered gently. “I ain’t giving these kids to just anybody. These are really special kids and you all deserve better. Anyway we don’t have to worry about it right now. Let’s go to the creek and maybe catch some fish and bed down for the night.”

  “But I promised you once we got to Guthrie—”

  “That’s okay.” He patted her shoulder gently. “Miss Violet, you’re doing the best you can and it’s a heavy load for a young girl. We’ll camp and see what we can do about food.”

  They turned and he led them all to Cottonwood Creek.

  “Limpy, you stake out Mouse and the ox, and Violet, will you take Boo Hoo? She needs dry drawers.”

  “Oh, dear.” Violet took her and laid her in the ox wagon.

  “Start a fire,” Travis said, “and I’ll see if the boys and I can catch some fish.”

  Kessie cocked her fiery red head. “You’ll have to catch a bunch to feed this crowd.”

  “Maybe I can rustle up something else,” Violet said.

  “Don’t get too far from camp,” Travis warned her as he took some fishing line out of his saddlebags. “There’s bad men who’d take advantage of a sweet, decent girl and I don’t want to have to kill anyone or beat him up tonight. My hand’s still too tender.”

  She had never had a man offer to fight for her. They had fought over her, but never for her. “I’ll be careful.” She smiled at him.

  “Kessie, you watch after Boo Hoo, and boys, come along and I’ll teach you how to fish. You ever fish before?”

  Both boys shook their heads.

  “You need to learn a lot of things, seems like,” Travis scolded. “There’s just things men need to know.”

  “Is that stuff Texas Rangers know?” Limpy asked.

  “Sure ’nuff.” Travis nodded. “Did you know the first Rangers wore stars made out of Mexican five cinco silver pesos?”

  “Really?” Harold asked as they walked.

  They went down to the creek where Travis showed them how to catch gras
shoppers and bait a hook. They returned half an hour later with a string of catfish and perch. Travis noted Boo Hoo’s drawers were hanging from a nearby bush and Violet had a fire going and potatoes frying along with a pot of coffee boiling.

  “Boy howdy.” Travis grinned. “Where’d you get the extra grub?”

  She hesitated. “I figured it was an emergency—the kids were hungry.”

  “Kids are always hungry,” Travis said as he began to clean the fish and all the kids gathered around to watch. “Here, Limpy, take over. My wrist hurts.”

  “I don’t know how,” the crippled boy protested.

  “Well, it’s time you learned. Cleaning fish is something a man learns young. Now, young lady, where’d you get the potatoes and milk? I hope you didn’t steal them; that ain’t honest.”

  “Well, if you must know, I traded your last little bottle of whiskey for the potatoes and some canned milk for Boo Hoo.” Violet took a deep breath for courage.

  He glared at her. “You did what?”

  “Now, Mr. Prescott, you can always get more whiskey—”

  “I’m pretty much out of money,” Travis snapped.

  “Is whiskey more important than milk for a baby?” Violet stood her ground.

  Travis hesitated, then laughed. “Kid, you remind me of my mother. She’s spirited, too. I reckon she’d say I was makin’ too big a thing of it. You’re right. Boo Hoo needs milk.”

  “I got a little cornmeal, too,” Violet said, “so I’m making hush puppies to go with the fish.”

  “You’re right handy and resourceful,” Travis said. “About like a Texas girl.”

  “Well, I’m a Southern girl from Memphis, I reckon it’s almost the same.”

  He looked at his wrist and winced. “Take over then. The boys about got the fish cleaned.”

  “Then what?”

  He shrugged. “I reckon it’s too late to make decisions tonight. We’ll sleep and then decide what to do tomorrow.”

  Little Boo Hoo stuck her sleepy head out of the wagon. “Stay with Travis,” she whimpered. “Stay with Travis and Growler.”

  “Don’t say anything that will make her start crying,” Violet warned. “Hey, honey, we’ll have some food in a minute.”