Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  As he fought the current, Violet urged the big stallion to back up and the slack went out of the loop. Travis was fast running out of energy, but the lasso tightened around him and dragged him toward the shore. Finally he felt his feet touch bottom and he let go of the dog and fell into the shallow water and lay there, breathing hard.

  Growler licked his face with a warm, wet tongue.

  “You stupid mutt,” he gulped. “You ’bout got us drowned.”

  Bonnie ran forward to put her chubby arms around the dog, who rewarded her by shaking his wet coat and getting everyone wet.

  Violet backed up the horse and loosened the lasso. “Are you all right?”

  He closed his eyes as she wiped his wet hair from his eyes. “I think so, just cold.”

  “I’ll make some coffee.”

  “Sounds like a great idea,” he gasped as he stood up, stepped out of the loop and stumbled over to sit under a tree. “Welcome to Texas,” he announced. “I reckon this is as far as we go today.”

  Limpy used his crutch to hobble over to him. “Are you okay, Mr. Prescott?”

  Travis grinned at him. “Call me Travis. You got the makings of a real cowboy.”

  “With a name like Limpy?”

  Travis leaned back against the tree. “You’re right. I think you deserve a new name, a Texas name. Let me think about it. Myself, I’m named for the leader of the men at the Alamo, Colonel Travis.”

  Violet had started a small fire with driftwood. “You take off those wet clothes and dry out,” she said. “You boys stake out the livestock and see if you can catch some fish.”

  Growler bounced over to him and shook all over, throwing muddy water on Travis.

  “Damn you, old dog,” Travis swore. “I should have let you drown.”

  “And listen to Bonnie cry?” Violet snapped. “I think not. Here, give me that wet shirt.”

  He started to protest, then peeled it off, although he didn’t think it seemly to strip half-naked in front of three young girls.

  She took it. “I’ll hang it near the fire to dry. Maybe you’d better take your pants off, too.”

  “In front of little girls?” He shook his head. “Hell, no.”

  “Mr. Prescott, you know what I said about swearing.” She went to get the coffeepot out of the wagon.

  He watched her go. Right now. she didn’t seem like a kid, not the way she was taking charge.

  She came back with the coffeepot and a blanket. “Here, wrap this around you. My, you’ve got a lot of scars.”

  He took the blanket and draped it over his wide shoulders. “Too many days as a cowboy and a Ranger.”

  “That river water can’t be good for that wrist.” She knelt and took his wrist in her two small hands. “I’ll wash the wound with whiskey after I make you some coffee.”

  “We don’t have any whiskey, remember? You traded it.”

  “Oh, yes. Well, you would have probably drunk it up by now anyway.” She shrugged and went to the fire.

  “I would if I had some,” he snapped.

  She sneaked looks at him as she made coffee, realizing again what a big, broad-shouldered stud he was. His scarred, dark skin rippled over powerful muscles. This was a man who could take care of and protect a woman. She wished suddenly she could be that woman.

  While Bonnie and Kessie played around the wagon, she took Travis a cup of hot coffee and put it in his calloused hands. “Much obliged.” He nodded and sipped it.

  He looked exhausted as he leaned back against the tree. She had to squelch an urge to stroke his weathered face, brush his wet black hair out of his dark eyes.

  The boys came back with a string of fish and she fried them along with hush puppies made from the cornmeal.

  They ate and as it grew dark, the children settled down around the sleeping Travis as if, instinctively, they knew he would protect them. She banked the fire and cleaned up the pans and dishes; then she took a cup of coffee and went over to sit beside him. In a minute, she would check his arm, but right now, she was enjoying the peace and security of the moment. She watched him in the glow of the crackling fire, pretending he was her man and these were her children. It was a nice dream and she imagined what it would be like to snuggle down next to him in the security and safety of his powerful arms. Men had always hurt her and used her, but she wasn’t afraid of Travis. The Texan wasn’t like the other men she had known. Tears came to her eyes as she wished things were different and that she could meet him again under different circumstances. He seemed to be a proud man, and she was certain he would be horrified if he found out she’d been a whore. She longed for a brand-new start and she’d like to make that with Travis.

  Abruptly she heard a horse whinny and looked up even as Growler started barking.

  Two men rode over the crest of the hill and down toward the river. Violet took a deep breath. They were tough-looking men who looked like they had ridden long and hard.

  By now, Travis was sitting up and the kids were all awake. Little Bonnie had crawled into his lap.

  Violet looked at the two as they rode into camp. Where were Travis’s guns? Probably in the wagon.

  “Hello the camp!” one of the men yelled. “Can we get down?”

  Travis said, “Where you from and where you bound?” The tension in his voice let Violet know he was suspicious.

  “Well, that ain’t too hospitable for Texans.” The men reined in. “You got some coffee?”

  “We got some,” Violet said and got up to get more tin cups. The two men sat their horses, staring at her like the men in the Diamond Horseshoe did. It made her skin crawl.

  Both men looked rough, like they’d ridden a long way. They looked around as they dismounted.

  “Well, girlie, you at least seem friendly.” The bearded one leered at her.

  “She’s just a kid,” Travis warned.

  “Old enough for me,” the bearded one laughed.

  She was scared now, scared of the way the men were looking at her and what Travis might do. She didn’t want the kids to get hurt. She handed each of the men a cup of the steaming brew.

  Travis put Bonnie down on the blanket and stood up. “You didn’t say where you’re from or where you were headed.”

  The shorter man glared at Travis as if sizing him up. “No, we didn’t. Don’t figure it’s none of your business, clod-buster.”

  Limpy said, “He ain’t a clod-buster, he’s—”

  “Hush,” Travis ordered. “You men drink your coffee and ride on.”

  “Tonight?” the bearded one said, sipping from his tin cup. “We’re tired and we thought your fire looked inviting—”

  “Make your own fire,” Travis thundered. “Now you drink your coffee and git!”

  “All right, all right!” the short one mumbled. “Ain’t very friendly for Texans.”

  They stood up slowly, threw the grounds in the fire and tossed the cups to one side. Travis glared at them and the kids seemed to hold their breaths as the men backed toward their horses. “We didn’t mean no harm.”

  “Keep riding,” Travis ordered.

  “That’s a mighty fine gray, you got there.” The short one licked his lips. “Would you be interested in—”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Travis stood there, feet wide apart. Limpy had come up behind Travis now and handed him his rifle. Travis cocked it. “You two get gone.”

  “We didn’t mean no trouble,” the short one whined. The two mounted up and took off at a lope down the river.

  Violet stared after them until they were out of sight. Then she heaved a sigh of relief and walked over to Travis. “That was scary, Mr. Prescott. I’m glad they’re gone.”

  The children began to laugh and talk.

  Travis signaled for silence. “They may be gone, but they’ll be back.”

  Violet felt her heart stop. “Are you sure?”

  Travis nodded. “We’ve got something they want.”

  “Mouse,” Limpy said.

  Travis looked
directly into Violet’s eyes. “Him, too.”

  They wanted her. The knowledge sent a chill down her back. Don’t be stupid, Violet, she told herself. You’ve bedded dozens of men like them. What’s two more?

  Because she never wanted another man to touch her except Travis, and he would stand his ground to protect her, maybe even give his life, she thought, because he believed she was an innocent kid. She ought to tell him she wasn’t worth a gunfight, but she didn’t want him to know her secret past. She wished she were as fresh and unstained as the Ranger thought she was.

  Travis motioned them all closer. “Listen up and listen careful. Here’s what we’re gonna do: we’re gonna pile our blankets up like we’re asleep and then we’re gonna sneak off into those sand dunes by the river. Harold, get the rest of the weapons.”

  “None of us know how to shoot,” Harold protested.

  “If you’re gonna be Texans, it’s time you learn,” he snapped.

  Violet said, “What can I do to help?”

  He looked at her. “Violet, can you handle a gun?”

  “Not really.”

  “All right, you take the girls and hide in that grove of sand plum bushes over there until we scare them off.”

  Limpy shifted his crutch and took the pistol. His thin face looked pale. “I’ll do the best I can, Travis.”

  “That’s all any Texan can do. You’re gonna make a fine man someday, Limpy. Now y’all do what I said and settle down.”

  Violet picked up Bonnie. “You sure they’ll come back?”

  Travis nodded. “Can you be brave and take the girls and run if we lose this?”

  She took a deep breath. “I—I’ve got a little knife in my garter. I’ll kill one if they try to hurt the girls.”

  He gave her a questioning look, but she decided this wasn’t the time to explain why an innocent young girl might be carrying a knife.

  She took Kessie by the hand and the trio melted into the darkness of the sand plum bushes.

  Travis watched them go, then turned to the boys. “All right, men.”

  “We ain’t men,” Harold said. “We’re just boys and they know it.”

  “In Texas, boys turn into men pretty early or they don’t make it. Besides, we’ve got to protect the girls.”

  “Sure,” Limpy said.

  “Good. Now you two help me pile the blankets up like we’re all asleep and then move over on the other side of the fire behind those sand dunes. If they come back, we’ll catch them in a cross fire.”

  Limpy asked, “Can you handle a gun, Travis?”

  Travis hesitated. “With my wrist? I’m not sure, but we don’t have to kill them, we only have to scare them into running like scalded hounds. You afraid?”

  The boys hesitated.

  “Yeah,” answered Limpy finally.

  “If you’re going to grow up to be a cowboy or a Texas Ranger, there’s one thing you need to know.” Travis checked his pistol.

  “What?” Harold asked.

  “A brave man is a man who knows the danger but keeps on coming. That’s a Texas Ranger for you. Now get over there and keep quiet. It may be awhile before they come back.”

  The boys obeyed and Travis crouched down behind a small rise where he could watch the fire. His wrist was throbbing like it had been touched with a red-hot branding iron, and he cursed himself that he was so vulnerable when the kids needed him so much. He’d seen the way those desperados had looked Violet over and he wasn’t about to let them take her for their lust. He’d die first.

  He had almost dozed off in spite of himself when he heard the slight sound of a horse stepping on a breaking twig and Growler snarled softly. “Hush up,” Travis ordered and grabbed the dog’s muzzle.

  Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a boot stepping on rocks. Of course, being half Comanche, he had keener hearing than most men. He could only hope the boys were awake and ready for this attack.

  He saw shadowy silhouettes as the pair of outlaws crouched and sneaked along the ridge, coming down near the fire. They paused and the short one laughed softly. “I told you they wouldn’t think we’d come back,” he whispered.

  “Shut up!” the other ordered. “We want that horse and that girl.”

  “We kill the rest?”

  “Hell, yes. Let’s not leave no witnesses.”

  Travis stood up suddenly and shouted, “Git ’em, boys!” and fired his pistol.

  At the same time, Harold and Limpy let loose with a barrage of rifle fire.

  “I’m hit!” the bearded one screamed.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here!” yelled the other, and they turned and ran over the hill.

  Travis had fallen to his knees in such agony that he dropped the pistol. If they came back now, with his wrist throbbing and his hand paralyzed, they could kill him. He realized he was useless as a man and a Ranger.

  Violet waited a long moment until she heard the two horses galloping away, and then she left the two little girls behind the plum bushes and ran to find Travis. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” he said, but she saw the sweat gleaming on his dark face in the moonlight. She fell down on her knees beside him.

  “Is it your wrist?”

  He nodded and she saw he was gritting his teeth. “You got any of that whiskey left?”

  “Well, I do have a few drops,” she confessed. “I’ll get it.” She ran to the wagon and searched around a moment before she came back with it. “You want I should pour it on your wound?”

  “Hell, no, I need a drink.”

  She pulled the cork out and handed it to him. “I reckon you got a right to curse.”

  “Damn right, I feel like I’ve been bit by a rattler.” He took a deep gulp. “I reckon I was foolin’ myself that my wrist would heal up.”

  She wanted to reach out and comfort him, he sounded so bereft, but she stopped herself. “It isn’t the end of the world.”

  “It is if you’re a Ranger or a cowman. A Texan’s got to be able to shoot.” He took another sip. “You can call the kids in now. I don’t think those hombres will come back.”

  Limpy and Harold crossed over to them.

  “That was scary,” Limpy said.

  “But you boys didn’t turn tail and run.” Travis nodded. “That was mighty brave.”

  “We couldn’t let them hurt the girls,” Harold said.

  Kessie came up to them, leading Bonnie by the hand. “Us girls can take care of ourselves,” she snapped. “We just need to be taught to shoot.”

  Travis grinned at her. “You’re right, Red, and I’ll teach you how to shoot, but right now, we need to get some rest so we can move on.”

  “Maybe I need to stand guard,” Limpy suggested.

  Travis shook his head. “They won’t come back. Which reminds me, I promised you a new name; Limpy seems bad for a brave Texan.”

  The tall, thin boy smiled. “What?”

  “I think you ought to be named for one of Texas’s bravest and most famous sons, Sam Houston. How does ‘Houston’ sound to you?”

  “Houston.” Limpy savored the name. “I like it. You hear, everyone? From now on, I’m not Limpy, I’m Houston.”

  “Now let’s get some sleep,” Travis ordered. “If I remember correctly, there’s a town only a few miles south of the river. We’ll ride in there in the morning.”

  Everyone settled down, but Travis picked up his rifle and leaned against a boulder. If those rascals did come back, he’d be ready for them and anyway, he was too sad to sleep. He now had to face the fact that there was no hope for him as a Ranger. The doctor in Red Rock had been right; his wrist would keep him from being a fast gun. He had no idea what to do with his life or these five kids who were counting on him.

  He watched the firelight play on Violet’s brown pigtails as she slept. She was a brave, gritty kid and he had to admit he liked having her around. In fact, he was getting used to all the kids. Too bad he couldn’t keep them, but it was loco for a bachelor with no home
and no money to think about adopting five kids. Maybe in this next town, he could find good families to take them in and he and his dog could drift on, but he’d have to admit he’d be lonelier than he had been since the kids had joined him.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning they started off again and in the distance, Travis saw the town he remembered. “Hey, kids, there’s a town up ahead. We’ll pull in there.”

  Harold looked at him, distress in his big almond eyes. “You aren’t going to give us away, are you?”

  “Not unless I find some really nice families,” Travis assured him.

  Bonnie immediately set up a howl, and Violet gave him a murderous look. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  “I was only being honest,” Travis answered. “She’d be so much better off with a family of her own.”

  “We got a family of our own,” Kessie said.

  “I reckon we do,” Travis sighed, “but I got no way to feed five kids and anyway, I’m a loner. You need a better father than me.”

  Violet looked up at him with those large, sad eyes. “If we can find a way to make some money, could we all stay together?”

  “I wish we could, but I can’t make it as a Ranger anymore with this bad arm.”

  Violet said. “Maybe your wrist will heal on its own.”

  “Maybe.” He hoped so, but in the meantime . . .

  They drove into town with little Bonnie crying at the top of her lungs.

  An old man turned around from loading a wagon. “What are you doing to that baby? You been beatin’ her?”

  “No,” Travis said, now aware of how many people were turning to look at the wailing toddler on the front seat of the wagon. He rode up next to Violet and under his breath, he muttered, “For God’s sake, can you make her stop?”

  “No,” Violet snapped. “She’s afraid you’re going to give her away.”

  More people were turning to glare at the motley crew with the wailing toddler.

  “Why’s that child crying?”

  “That man hitting that baby?”

  The men glowering at him along the street looked like they could turn into a lynch mob. Travis reined in in front of the general store and dismounted. “Violet, stop that oxcart and take all the other kids in for some peppermint sticks.”