Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  Both boys took deep breaths. “Can’t we just give her the money?” Houston asked.

  “I reckon.” Travis grinned.

  Miss Brewster beckoned to him. “Mr. Prescott, don’t be shy. The money’s for a good cause.”

  Mrs. Van Mayes popped up suddenly beside her. “Sorry, Miss Brewster, but I think I can handle this.” She leaned forward, her eyes closed.

  Travis felt himself flush, but he took his dime, put it in her dainty hand and reached over to give her a peck on the cheek. Instead, the lady grabbed him and planted a hot kiss full on his mouth. It felt so good, it was a long moment before he pulled back, breathless and surprised. He didn’t even speak, just stared at her while she gave him a bold wink.

  Miss Brewster looked scandalized and for once, she was speechless. “Why, I never—”

  “I’ll bet you haven’t,” said the bold blonde.

  Travis couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Next to him, he heard Houston and Harold. “Did you see that? Why, he even acted like he liked it.”

  Travis backed away as Mrs. Van Mayes whispered, “Why don’t you come to dinner next week?”

  “Uh, well, yes, I reckon we could.” He glanced down at the boys, who were staring up at him. “Uh, boys, I reckon we’d better go find that lemonade.” He turned and stumbled away, his mind still on the widow’s hot, wet mouth. She was eager, all right; the way she had kissed him told him that.

  “Did you like that?” Harold asked as they walked down the row of booths.

  “Well, sort of,” Travis admitted sheepishly. “You see, fellows, when you get my age, you kind of like a girl to kiss you.”

  “Then why haven’t you kissed Violet?” Houston asked.

  “That’s different,” Travis gulped, but in his mind, he suddenly saw himself kissing Violet. You rotten bastard, he scolded himself, she’s just a kid. You need to take your lust to one of the saloon girls. He promised himself he’d do that one night next week. He looked toward the saloon. The girls had gone back inside and he could hear laughter and “Camptown Races” banging away on the piano inside.

  “What are they doing in there?” Harold asked as they passed the saloon.

  “Oh, drinking, gambling, having fun,” Travis said.

  Harold snorted. “What do you do with a girl to have fun?”

  “Someday, when you’re older, I’ll tell you.” Travis grinned.

  They bought five cups of pink lemonade and walked back down the length of Main Street. In the distance, Travis heard the southbound train coming. “Must be about four o’clock.”

  They reached their table just as the train came through town. It must not have had any freight or passengers to let off or pick up because it didn’t stop.

  “What took you so long?” Violet asked, waving her hand in front of her face and coughing over the black, sooty smoke drifting from the train as it went through town and on south.

  “Oh, some stuff happened.” Travis shrugged. “We got the lemonade.”

  “He bought a kiss,” Harold volunteered.

  Violet smiled. “From Miss Brewster?”

  “No, he—” Houston seemed to see Travis putting his finger to his lips and stopped.

  Violet turned to Travis. “Who else was in the kissing booth?”

  Travis shrugged. “Oh, just some old widow. The money’s for the school, you know.”

  Violet looked up at him. “Just how old was she?”

  “Oh, old.” Travis reached for a sandwich. “This looks like chicken salad. I really like chicken salad.” He stuffed a bite in his mouth.

  “Yeah,” Harold agreed with a nod, “she’s old, maybe even twenty-five or so.”

  Violet put her hands on her hips. “Who are we talking about here?”

  “Uh, Mrs. Van Mayes,” Travis said and reached for a pickle.

  “That pretty blonde with the big ranch outside town?”

  “Now, young lady, that’s not really any of your business. Just think, if I got married, you’d have a mother and it would take a lot of responsibility off your shoulders.”

  “I haven’t complained,” she said.

  “Yes, and that’s noble of you.” Travis took a sip of lemonade. “But maybe the other children would like a mother.”

  Violet turned and looked at the other children.

  “No.” Kessie shook her head. “We all like things just the way they are.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t!” Travis snapped. “Does it ever occur to you kids that I might get lonely?”

  Harold looked up at him. “You got all of us, Mouse and Growler. Ain’t we enough?”

  “That lady’s got a big ranch and a nice house,” Kessie said. “Maybe that’s why he might want to get married.”

  “I don’t think so,” Violet snapped. “She’s awfully pretty. Was it a good kiss?” She stared up into Travis’s dark eyes.

  “I don’t know, it was just a kiss, that’s all. Good God, you act like a wife instead of a kid.”

  Houston said, “Maybe that’s because she’s had to act like a mother to all of us and run the house.”

  Violet picked up a sandwich. “Maybe I should help out the school by working in the kissing booth.”

  “No, you don’t,” Travis said. “You’re too young.”

  The boys started to say something, and Travis figured it might be about the widow working the kissing booth, so he shook his head at them. “By the way, Charlotte invited us to dinner.”

  Violet scowled.

  Travis appeared puzzled.

  He said, “Violet, you know I would never marry anyone you kids didn’t like.”

  “Good, because I don’t like her.”

  “You don’t know her.” He took a sip of lemonade.

  “I know she’s chasing after you like a hound dog on a hot trail.”

  He grinned. “The chase is always the best part of it.”

  She decided not to say anything more; she could only make it worse. If only she could come clean with him about her real age and that she was falling in love with him. Would that make any difference to the big hombre, or was he stuck on Charlotte Van Mayes? She wished she knew.

  Violet made her plans. She was going to dance with Travis tonight and maybe, maybe she might kiss him and confess about her lies. Did she dare? It might either be that or lose him to the beautiful widow.

  It was a great afternoon, Travis thought. The food Violet had brought was delicious. “You know, kid, I could eat your cooking the rest of my life.”

  “That can be arranged,” she said before she thought.

  “What?”

  She gulped. “I meant you could adopt all of us.”

  Along about sundown, the northbound train came through, rattling windows and bellowing smoke, but not stopping.

  As darkness grew, the small band assembled on the platform and began to tune their instruments. The crowd put away their picnic gear and gathered around the wooden dance floor.

  Travis looked toward Violet. He would dance with her first, of course, and then he might dance with the pretty blond widow, who was smiling at him across the crowd.

  The band began to play a slow waltz. Travis turned to Violet, but before he could speak, that oldest Jenkins, Leroy, was by her side. “Dance with me, Miss Violet?”

  She hesitated, a little cautious. “Of course.”

  And he whirled Violet out on the floor.

  Travis watched, a little annoyed, but he wasn’t certain why. That oldest Jenkins was a man and everyone in town thought him a little odd. Violet looked nervous. That was all it took.

  Travis strode out onto the dance floor and tapped Leroy on the shoulder. “I’m cutting in.”

  “No,” said Leroy.

  “Let go of her and get off this dance floor,” Travis ordered.

  The man hesitated, then walked away, sulking as Travis took her in his arms.

  She looked up at him, loving him as she had never thought she could love a man. “Thank you,” she w
hispered and laid her face against his chest as they waltzed.

  Now it was Travis’s turn to feel uncomfortable. He didn’t think it looked right to be dancing this close to a young girl, but it felt so good to hold her tightly, he didn’t pull away. He put his face next to her head, and her brown hair smelled so clean and sweet he didn’t ever want to let her go. He could hold her like this forever, he thought.

  Then he looked up and realized people were staring at them and he knew he must protect the young girl’s reputation. She was too innocent and naive to realize what dirty minds might think. He stopped dancing suddenly and led her to the sidelines.

  “But the song isn’t over,” Violet protested, looking up at him.

  He felt sweat breaking out all over his muscular body and his manhood pulsating. He was having thoughts he shouldn’t have about this kid. “I—I thought Harold or Houston might want to dance with you.”

  He abandoned her on the edge of the dance floor and walked away.

  Violet was both crushed and angry. She had never felt so much pleasure and so protected as she had in Travis’s strong arms. What had she done to annoy him? Then when she looked across the crowd, she saw Travis asking Mrs. Van Mayes to dance. Violet’s heart fell. She had no chance against that beauty.

  She looked down to see all four children standing next to her and Growler by Bonnie’s side.

  She leaned over to Houston. “It would be nice if you asked Kessie to dance.”

  The boy made a face. “Must I?”

  “It’s good manners,” she said, pushing him toward the red-haired little girl.

  But Kessie shook her head. “I don’t think suffragettes waste their time dancing. After all, the man gets to lead. Now what kind of equality is that?”

  “Never mind,” Violet sighed.

  “Look.” Harold’s almond eyes widened. “Travis is dancing with that pretty lady in pink.”

  “I hope he puts one of his big boots on her dainty foot,” Violet said under her breath.

  Bonnie had Growler up on his back legs and was dancing him around the edge of the crowd as people smiled and laughed.

  Violet didn’t think the song would ever end as she watched Travis dance with Charlotte Van Mayes, but finally it did.

  Then the band began an old sweetheart schottische: Put your little foot, put your little foot, put your little foot right there. . . .

  The beauty in the pink dress was shaking her head and stepping back. Obviously, Violet thought, the Yankee girl didn’t know the dance.

  Violet took a deep breath, crossed the dance floor and grabbed Travis’s hand. “I know this one. Dance with me.”

  “All right, young lady.” He smiled as they stepped out on the wooden floor. The schottische was a Texas cowboy favorite and he enjoyed it. Violet danced well and when she brushed against him, it seemed to set his nerves afire. He reminded himself again that she was just a child and he needed to direct his thoughts elsewhere. The townspeople would string him up if they had any idea what he was thinking and he was horrified himself.

  The band stopped and he walked her over to where Mrs. Van Mayes stood.

  She gave Violet a condescending smile. “Travis, you dance so well with your daughter. Young lady, you must teach me that step.”

  Violet didn’t smile. “I’m sure Travis would be happy to teach you.”

  Now the beautiful blonde turned her face up to the tall Texan. “I hope so.”

  Violet resisted the urge to kick the lady in the shins.

  Both females nodded to each other. As Travis watched, he was reminded of two cats circling each other, ready to fight.

  Mrs. Van Mayes said, “Violet, you’re such a brave little girl to mother all those children. It must be very difficult.”

  “No, I really enjoy it,” Violet answered.

  The music started again, a slow waltz, and Travis turned to the pretty blonde. “Mrs. Van Mayes, may I have the honor?”

  “Of course, Travis.”

  They whirled out on the dance floor, leaving Violet standing there, fuming.

  Harold walked up beside her. “What are you scowling about?”

  “That widow. Do you see how she’s hanging on to Travis? Why, you couldn’t get a grass blade between them.”

  “He is holding her pretty close, isn’t he?”

  An eager cowboy touched Travis’s shoulder and he gave up his partner, but Violet thought he looked reluctant to do so.

  He came back to stand beside her. “Damn, every man in town wants her.”

  Violet gritted her teeth and didn’t answer for a long moment. “Why don’t you dance with me?”

  “Uh, I’m a little tired, young lady.”

  “You didn’t look tired when you were dancing with Mrs. Pink Bustle.”

  “Oh, all right.” She was annoyed at how much distance he kept between their two bodies as they danced. Probably he’d rather be dancing with the pretty blonde.

  The night had grown dark in the summer heat with a few paper lanterns lighting the dance floor. Violet tried to snuggle up close to him as the band played “Genevieve, Sweet Genevieve.”

  He appeared startled as she put her body close to his and for a moment, he held her very close and she heard his breath quicken. His body became tense and she snuggled even closer.

  At that moment, he took a deep breath and pushed her so that there was distance between them—so much that a horse could have walked between them. She looked up into his eyes and licked her lips, then parted them and fluttered her eyelashes very slowly.

  She saw the sudden hot desire in his dark eyes and knew that he wanted her. She wanted him in a way she’d never known a woman could want a man.

  “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered and stopped dancing abruptly, took her hand and headed for the sidelines.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked innocently.

  “Nothing a young girl would understand,” he snapped. “Anyway, I need a beer.” He handed her over to Harold. “Here, dance with your sister.”

  “I don’t want to dance with him, I want to dance with you,” Violet declared.

  “No, you don’t. It might lead to trouble.”

  “I don’t want to dance,” Harold complained, but Travis had already headed over to the beer booth.

  Violet watched Charlotte Van Mayes start after Travis, but just then, Harold grabbed Violet and doggedly began pushing her around the dance floor. She could hear him counting under his breath.

  “Honestly, Harold, you don’t have to dance with me,” she insisted, still trying to watch Travis. She saw him lean on the rail of the beer booth and gulp a mugful. “Gimme another!” he yelled.

  About that time, Mrs. Van Mayes came up beside him and engaged him in conversation. He said something and the blonde patted his arm and laughed.

  Violet sighed and stopped as Harold stepped on her foot again. “Harold, it’s getting late. Gather up the other kids and we’ll pack up the picnic stuff and go home.”

  “Aw, no one wants to go home yet,” he grumbled.

  “Well, there isn’t anything else gonna happen tonight except a little dancing and most of the men getting drunk.”

  He looked toward the beer booth. “Including Travis?”

  “Probably.”

  “Why?”

  She knew why. She’d seen that sudden hot desire in his eyes as he held her close and abruptly pushed her away. “It’s just something men do.”

  “I’ll get the kids,” Harold said.

  “And I’ll go gather up the picnic stuff,” Violet said and started walking out into the shadows toward the tables.

  To be in the shade, they had set up their picnic a long way from the others and it was dark and shadowy out here under the trees. She tripped over a rock and walked on, wishing she had a lantern.

  A big shape suddenly stepped out from behind a tree. “Hello, Violet.”

  “Oh, Leroy, you startled me.” She took a step backward.

  “Where you going?”


  “To pack up our picnic stuff.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  She had an uneasy feeling about this. “No need to,” she said brightly, “It’s not heavy.”

  “Well, I’ll carry it.”

  Way off in the distance, the music played faintly. People laughed and talked around the dance floor. She’d feel foolish screaming and even if she did, would anyone hear her? When Leroy stepped closer, she smelled liquor on his breath. She’d handled drunks for years as a saloon girl, she could certainly handle this brute.

  “It’s nice of you, Leroy, but why don’t you go back to the dance? I can get the basket alone.”

  “No,” he said and then he grabbed her.

  Chapter 11

  Violet started to scream, but the big lout clapped his hand over her mouth and pulled her close. She tried to bite his fingers, but he slapped her, and for a moment, she felt dizzy and staggered on her feet. Now he had his arms under her legs, lifting her, carrying her toward the creek in the shadows of the underbrush.

  She fought him, but she was no match for his strength.

  “Stop it, you bitch!” he snarled, “I’m going to lay with you like I’ve wanted to do since the first time I saw you. If I give you a baby, your pa will make you marry me and I’ll have you for good and all.”

  She writhed in his arms, but he held her tightly and stuffed a dirty rag in her mouth. Violet managed to get one arm free and scratched his face, but he only laughed. “You’re a little wildcat, ain’t you? I think I like that. Now if you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll have to knock you out ’cause I intend to have you.”

  She could smell the reek of whiskey on his breath and knew he was very drunk. Oh, Lord, why hadn’t she seen him as more of a threat? Now she was going to be raped and maybe murdered.

  Think, Violet, think. Abruptly she went limp in his arms.

  “Did you faint? Are you okay, bitch?” He paused and laid her down on the grass near the creek.

  When she felt his hot hands leave her, she came alive suddenly, fighting and jumping to her feet. She gave him a hard kick to the groin. He swore and doubled over in pain.

  I’m free, she thought, but even as she tried to run, he caught her by the ankle.