Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  “Growler like bacon,” Little Bonnie said.

  “Let him eat scraps,” Violet said. “Bacon is expensive.”

  Harold had carried his dishes into the kitchen. “Travis forgot his lunch,” he called back.

  “Then you can go take it to him,” Violet said.

  He stuck his head around the kitchen door. “If we’re all going out anyway, why don’t we take it to him then?”

  She hesitated. She was angry with Travis and didn’t want to see him. “I’m busy cleaning up the kitchen. You take it to him.”

  Harold grabbed the sack and went out of the house while Kessie and Violet cleaned up the kitchen and Houston went out to take care of the livestock.

  Travis looked up from cleaning a rifle to see Harold coming in. “Oh, howdy.”

  “You forgot your lunch.”

  “Oh, yeah. Just put it on the counter.”

  Harold came over and looked up at him. “Are you mad at her?”

  “I could wring her pretty little neck,” Travis said before he thought.

  “Please don’t. We all love her. Don’t you?”

  Travis looked down into the anxious face and smiled. “Of course I do. It’s just something people say when they’re mad.” He paused. “Harold, did Violet come in on the orphan train with you kids?”

  “Uh—” The boy hesitated, which gave Travis the answer he wanted.

  Travis tried again. “How old is she, really?”

  Harold backed toward the door. “I—I’ve got to be going.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Sweat broke out on the boy’s brown face. “Honestly, Travis, I don’t know.”

  “But she’s older than she says she is?”

  “No—I—I don’t know. Maybe. I got to go.” He turned and fled out the door.

  Travis stared after him. Could she really be older and, if so, why was she posing as a kid? None of this made any sense. About that time, a customer came in and Travis pushed aside his puzzlement.

  The family was getting ready to go out when Harold got back.

  Violet tried to be casual. “What’d he say?”

  Harold shrugged, but he looked troubled. “I asked if he was mad and he said he’d like to wring your pretty neck. I gave him the sack and I came home. I don’t know why you’re mad at him.”

  “My neck, huh? Never mind,” Violet said. “Just wash your face and comb your hair and we’ll go to the library.”

  Houston had just come in the back door. “Aw, I’d rather hang around the gun shop and listen to the men talk about horses and guns.”

  “Well, in that case, go on. The rest of us will go to the store and the library.” Violet brushed Bonnie’s hair so vigorously that the little girl cried, “Stop! Stop! Pulling my hair out.”

  “I’m sorry.” Violet paused and kissed the top of her blond head. “You’ve gotten it in such a tangle.”

  Kessie leaned on the chair and looked up at her. “It’s because you’re mad at Travis, isn’t it?”

  Violet swallowed hard. “Of course not. He’s a grown man and can do what he wants. I reckon we’re all lucky he took us in; most men wouldn’t want a ready-made family.”

  Harold looked alarmed. “Is he liable to leave us or throw us out?”

  That was Violet’s worst fear. “I don’t know. No, I don’t think so—he’s a good Texan. It’s just that he’s a man and men sometimes want . . . never mind. If everyone’s ready, let’s go to the library.”

  Houston went off to the gun shop and the rest of them headed for the library, where Miss Knowlen, in her staid black dress, met them at the door. “Is Mr. Prescott with you today?”

  Violet shook her head. “No, he had to work. It’s just us.”

  “Oh.” The spinster looked disappointed. “Well, you kiddies head for that section.” She pointed. “There’s some books over there I think you’ll like.”

  Violet started to go with them, but Miss Knowlen grabbed her arm. “Is your daddy keeping company with anyone?”

  “No.” Violet really didn’t want to stay here for the grilling, but she had to be polite. “He just works and after supper, he may play checkers with the kids and we all go to bed early.”

  “Some of the citizens are saying that it isn’t right for a man to have to raise all those children alone, especially a girl who’s almost a young lady.”

  “We are managing, but thank you for your concern.” Violet pulled away from her.

  “I’m available some nights to come over and spiffy up the place and visit,” Miss Knowlen said.

  “How nice. I’ll tell him.” Violet smiled and fled over to help the children select some books.

  They did a little shopping with all the single ladies inquiring after Travis and offering to bring in casseroles or come help with the children. Violet assured them all that they were managing just fine.

  Miss Brewster was in the dry goods store and she called Violet “a brave, hardworking little girl” and allowed that Mr. Prescott should consider marrying to take the load off Violet.

  At the butcher shop, old Mr. Anderson laughed and hooked his thumbs in his red suspenders that held up the pants over his fat belly when she told him about all the eager single ladies. “Poor Travis just don’t stand a chance, young lady. Every single woman in town has set her cap for him and just watch, at the Fourth of July celebration, they’ll all trot out their best food, hoping he’ll take notice.”

  She had forgotten about the holiday. “That’s only a few days away, isn’t it? You suppose the general store will have fireworks?”

  “Yes, indeedy. It’s the biggest holiday we have in the whole county.”

  Kessie spoke up. “Here’s a poster on your window about the suffragettes. Are they really coming to town?”

  Mr. Anderson frowned. “I reckon so. Mrs. Van Mayes insisted I hang that and she’s a rich customer. They are demanding to be in our parade.”

  “Good,” Kessie announced. “I’ll march with them.”

  Mr. Anderson scowled at her, then at Violet. “You raising a liberal?”

  Violet shrugged her shoulders. “I sort of let the children do what they want.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe the local ladies are right, maybe Prescott really does need a wife to keep you kids in line.”

  Violet stiffened. “Really, Mr. Anderson, I don’t see anything so terrible about women voting.”

  “Aha! That’s just a start. They want to change everything, take over the whole world, take control away from the men, where it belongs.”

  Kessie piped up. “And when women take over, things will be a whole lot better, I promise you.”

  “I think we’d better leave,” Violet said and grabbed her package of pork chops off the counter.

  Mr. Anderson yelled after them, “And don’t bring that dog into my store again!”

  Before Violet knew what she was up to, little Bonnie turned around and stuck her tongue out at the butcher.

  Outside, she stopped and admonished the children. “We have to be careful what we say or do. Someone may decide we aren’t a proper family and try to put us all back in an orphanage.”

  Harold looked up at her. “But you’re a grown-up, Violet. They can’t put you in an orphanage.”

  “Shh!” She put her finger against her lips. “Nobody knows that but us, right? Not even Travis is supposed to know.”

  Harold opened his mouth, then shut it and chewed his lip.

  Kessie’s eyes grew wide. “Violet, what do you think he’d do if he found out?”

  Violet didn’t even want to think about it. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think it would be good, so we don’t tell, remember?”

  “Feathers,” Bonnie laughed. “Feathers.”

  “Forget the feathers,” Violet admonished her. “I don’t ever intend to wear those again.”

  Kessie looked at her. “Why don’t you and Travis just get married and adopt us all?”

  Violet sighed and they started wa
lking home. “It’s not that easy. I think he would be furious to find out I lied and fooled him.”

  They walked the rest of the way home in silence. That was Violet’s worst fear, that Travis would find out. He already distrusted women and first he’d be mad she had fooled him and then he would want to know the reason. Now just how would she explain that she was really a saloon whore on the run from the outlaw owner? That wasn’t exactly the kind of girl an old-fashioned Texas cowboy wanted to take home to his mother.

  At home, the children settled down to read while Violet did her chores. Late in the afternoon, Houston came home and into the kitchen for some fresh-baked oatmeal cookies. “That Mrs. Van Mayes dropped by the gun shop today,” he announced.

  Violet tried not to be jealous. “Oh? What did she want?”

  “She invited us all to supper tomorrow night and Travis said we’d be glad to.”

  “He could have asked me first.” Violet gritted her teeth as she got out her iron skillet and began to fry pork chops.

  “Oh, and he said not to wait supper for him,” Houston reported as he took a handful of cookies and headed back into the parlor. “He’d be going to the saloon after work and you were not to come drag him out.”

  Violet slammed the skillet hard down on the stove. “He needn’t worry. I won’t.” She was so angry, she was chopping onions hard and furious. She pretended it was Travis’s body under her knife.

  From the other room, Harold called, “What’s so loud in there?”

  And Houston answered, “I don’t know. Travis won’t be home for supper and for some reason, Violet’s mad about it.”

  Kessie’s voice came through clearly. “Well, I don’t blame her. She goes to the trouble to fix a good dinner and he goes to eat at the saloon instead.”

  If only it were the food, Violet thought as she worked on dinner. She had hot apple pie and plenty of gravy for the pork chops, but Travis would rather eat boiled eggs, pretzels and beer at the saloon.

  Who was she fooling? What was really upsetting her was the thought of the dessert afterward when he was liquored up, one of the whores taking him up to her room when Violet wanted desperately to take him to her room and make love to him. Well, she’d made this mess and there didn’t seem to be any way out of it.

  The family ate supper in silence and then Violet went outside afterward and stood on the front porch. From here, she could hear the laughter and the piano banging away while the girls sang at the Cattle Drive. Travis was in there, probably drinking with one of those girls hanging on his arm and later . . . she didn’t even want to think about later.

  She went back in, slamming the door. “I think we all need to get ready for bed.”

  “It’s still early,” Harold protested.

  “Then I’m going to bed alone!” Violet strode into her room and got ready for bed. Of course she couldn’t sleep. It was a hot night in late June and the window was up. The music floated faintly on the warm breeze, and now and then she heard a woman laugh. She tried not to think what Travis might be doing at this very moment and despite herself, she felt the tears come. She loved him, and while she lay here alone, he was in the saloon, drinking and kissing the whores and having a great time. Men, they were all alike. Why had she picked this one to fall in love with?

  She heard the children stirring around.

  Little Bonnie stuck her head in the bedroom door. “You all right?”

  “I—I’m fine, honey. Tell Kessie to put your nightgown on you.”

  Kessie stuck her head in the door. “You don’t sound all right.”

  “Go to bed,” Violet sobbed. “I’m fine.”

  She heard Kessie sigh and then the door closed. So this was what love was like: misery, because he was even now caressing and kissing another woman. She had never known such inner pain, not since her little brother died, and she was all alone in the world. And she didn’t know what to do. She could leave and find a job in another saloon, a thousand miles from here, but then what would happen to the kids? They weren’t really old enough to manage without her, even if Travis tried to keep them. No, she couldn’t leave, but she was also certain she couldn’t hang around and watch him marry another woman or make regular trips to the saloon whores. There just didn’t seem to be any good answer. She buried her face in her pillow and cried.

  Chapter 14

  Travis closed up the gun shop and paused as he locked the front door. He could go home, but then he would be near Violet and that wasn’t good. Besides, she was mad at him and he’d rather deal with a riled-up rattlesnake than an angry woman. He was a brave Texan, but not that brave.

  Anyway, he had earned a mug of beer. Working in the gun shop wasn’t nearly as exciting as being a Texas Ranger or a cowboy, and he was getting restless. As he walked, he flexed his hand. His wrist seemed to be okay today, but he could never be sure when it would go out on him.

  Loud music and laughter greeted him as he went into the saloon. Yep, this was where a man ought to spend his evenings—plenty of beer, cigars, maybe a hand of poker and some loose women eager to take him to their beds.

  “Hey, Prescott,” Zeke, the old man who ran the livery stable, greeted him. “We ain’t used to seeing you in here.”

  “Well, once in a while, a man needs to relax,” Travis said and nodded to the balding bartender, who slid a foaming mug down the bar to him. But even as he sipped it, he felt guilty for spending the money. He knew Houston wanted a pair of boots and Violet needed some things, although she never asked for anything. She was one in a million. He’d get paid Saturday and then he’d buy her a bottle of perfume.

  A couple of ranchers leaned on the bar near him. “Hey, Prescott, you gonna enter the shootin’ contest July Fourth?”

  He shook his head and sipped his beer. “Naw. I’m not much of a shot.”

  “Really? We heard you used to be a Texas Ranger,” one of them said.

  He couldn’t tell them about his hand. He was too proud. “I never was much of a shot, even then.”

  “Well, that’s still more’n a week away,” one of the ranchers laughed. “You still got time to change your mind.”

  “I got one kid, Houston, who’s a pretty good shot; he might enter.” He sipped his beer and wondered what the kids were doing. Violet would be putting dinner on the table about now and she’d wonder where he was. Let her wonder. No man should have to answer to a kid. Still, as he stood there laughing and talking, spending time at the saloon didn’t seem like as much fun as it used to be. He wondered what Violet had cooked for dinner. She could do a lot with a little piece of meat or a scrawny chicken and make it so good coyotes would fight a big grizzly bear over it.

  Kate sidled up to him just then. “Hello, Travis.”

  The redhead had a big bosom, but she reeked of sweat and cheap perfume. That made him think of Violet again, who always smelled like soap, clean and warm. Damn it, why couldn’t he enjoy even one beer without thinking of her?

  Kate leaned against him, rubbing her body against his in her gaudy green satin dress. “Buy me a drink?”

  “Sure, but just one.”

  She smiled up at him and he saw the paint on her face that didn’t quite hide her wrinkles. “After that, why don’t we go upstairs?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, Kate, can’t afford it.”

  She ran her tongue over her painted lips. “Who’s talkin’ about money? I like you enough to give you a free ride, cowboy.”

  The men around him hooted and hollered. “You can’t pass up a deal like that, Prescott.”

  “Hey, Kate, if you’re giving it away, I’ll take some.”

  Kate ignored the other men and smiled at Travis as she sipped her drink. She ran one finger into the open neck of his shirt. “I just reckon you’re a lot of fun for a woman.”

  He leaned against the bar, wanting her, wanting any woman. “It’s been a while. It might be a wild ride.”

  “I’m a bronc breaker.” She put her drink on the bar and took Travis’s ha
nd, led him away from the bar, through the rowdy crowd of men.

  His manhood came up hard and throbbing as they walked toward the stairs. He took a deep breath and the saloon smelled like stale cigars, old beer and unwashed bodies. The piano banged away.

  Kate led him up the stairs and to her room. She paused at the door, looking up at him. “When’s the last time you had a woman, Travis?”

  He was ashamed to admit it had been in the spring before he rode into Red Rock. “A while.”

  “Then you ought to be ready for a hard ride,” she purred and led him inside, closed the door.

  He sat down on the bed, watching her undress. She made quite a show of it, slowly peeling off her silk hose. “Unhook my dress, honey.”

  Her flesh was warm under his hands as he unhooked the bright green satin and his pulse began to pound.

  She took the dress off slowly, revealing black lace drawers and chemise. Then she smiled wickedly as she took off the chemise and stood there in nothing but her lace drawers. She had big breasts and just looking at her, he realized she was older than he had thought. Violet’s breasts were probably small and firm and would be beautiful when she was all grown up.

  Damn it. Why did he find himself comparing all women to that kid? He stood up and pulled Kate roughly to him and kissed her, feeling those big breasts pressing into his shirt. She smelled of sweat and cheap perfume.

  “Easy, cowboy,” she purred. “Ain’t you gonna even take your pants off?”

  “Sure.” He started to unbutton his denim pants and his hands trembled with eagerness. Then, with dismay, he felt his manhood beginning to fade.

  “What’s wrong?” She must have caught the expression on his face.

  “Nothing.” But there was. For some reason, his body was not cooperating. He would not be able to perform. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

  “Then get those pants off and let’s get busy,” she purred as she stepped out of her black lace drawers.

  So here he stood with a naked, eager woman and he felt his manhood fading. He was both furious and confused. “I—I must be tired.” He began to button his pants.