Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  She went to bed but could not sleep. Tomorrow was the big day and she had a picnic to make. She would enjoy the day with the kids and then tomorrow night, she would slip away. Where she was going, she wasn’t sure, but she had to leave and not take the chance that Travis would ever learn of her tawdry past.

  Chapter 20

  The fireworks woke Violet early. She wanted to lie there and remember last night in Travis’s arms, but already, the children were bouncing on her bed, yelling. “Get up! Get up! It’s Fourth of July and some of the kids are already shooting off firecrackers!”

  She smiled and sat up in bed. “Is Travis up yet?”

  “He’s in the kitchen making coffee,” Kessie answered, “and he’s waiting for you to start breakfast so we can get ready for the day!”

  “What happened to Conchita?”

  “She packed up and went back to Mrs. Van Mayes early this morning.” Harold grinned. “She said she never saw such an unruly household.”

  “And we love it that way, don’t we?” Violet laughed. “All right. Now you all get out of here and let me get dressed. I’ll be right in.”

  The kids left the room and she heard them pounding down the hall to the kitchen as she shut the door and pulled on her yellow gingham dress. She smiled as she thought of last night in Travis’s arms. She had never been loved like that. Then she remembered that tonight, when the children were asleep, she would sneak away and out of Travis’s life forever.

  With a worried frown, she put on her shoes and headed to the kitchen to be met by the aroma of coffee and an array of eager little faces.

  Travis grinned at her. “Hello, sleepyhead. You sleep in on such an important day?”

  She looked up at him, searching his face, but it betrayed nothing. “Travis—” she began.

  “Later,” he cautioned. “We’ve got a hungry bunch here.”

  She waved the kids toward the table. “All right, who wants flapjacks and who wants biscuits?”

  “Both!” yelled Houston, pounding on the table and his voice was echoed by the others.

  “All right.” She smiled and nodded. “Travis, get out of my way and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Music to my ears.” He smiled and, taking his cup of coffee, retreated to the parlor. “Let me know when it’s ready.”

  Did he care about her or had he only taken advantage of her vulnerability last night? There was no time to think about that, but she could think of little else as she cooked.

  Outside, firecrackers exploded and she heard children already on the street, shouting and laughing.

  “Hurry up,” Harold begged, “or we’ll miss all the fun.”

  “I hardly think so,” she snorted as she scrambled eggs. “The party will be going on ’til midnight tonight.”

  “But without us,” Kessie said. “Look out the window. You see the suffragettes gathering in the street?”

  Travis called from the other room. “Violet, are you gonna let her march with those women?”

  She bristled as she put the eggs and ham onto a platter and carried it to the dining room. “Well, I don’t see what it would hurt.”

  “Ornery boys might be throwing rotten eggs or rocks,” Travis complained.

  “Oh, hush and come eat,” Violet yelled. “She’s not afraid.”

  Travis was still grumbling as he came to the table and sat down. “I’m not in a mood to fight anyone today. Pigheaded women. Who knows what they’ll want next?”

  Bonnie climbed up in his lap. “I want watermelon,” she lisped.

  Violet laughed. “See? That’s what happens when women finally get equal rights; they want watermelon.”

  Kessie looked from Violet to Travis. “So is it all right if I march in the parade?”

  Harold snorted. “You’ll look like an idiot.”

  “She’s just headstrong.” Travis helped himself to the flapjacks. “Which is okay in this household. Mind you”—he shook his finger at Kessie—“I’m not sure I’m in favor of all this marching foolishness, but I reckon my girls are as smart as any man, so they ought to be allowed to vote.”

  Violet smiled at him as she poured more coffee, wondering if he was thinking about last night, too.

  Houston said, “I’m gonna enter the shooting contest. I want to win that black filly.”

  “Pony,” Bonnie said over a mouthful of food as she sat on Travis’s knee. “Ride your pony.”

  “It won’t be a pony, it’ll be a real horse,” Houston said, “and I’m gonna win it.”

  Violet looked at him. “Now don’t get your heart set on it, Houston. Probably most men in town will enter.”

  Travis sipped his coffee. “He’s a good shot; I’ve been teaching him at lunchtime. He might win.”

  Houston looked around the table, his mouth smeared with syrup. “And then I can be a real cowboy in spite of my leg, can’t I, Travis?”

  “Yep. A real cowboy. All you need now is a ranch.”

  “You’d have that if you married Charlotte,” Violet said to Travis.

  He frowned at her, then set down his cup so hard it rattled.

  She waited, wondering if he would say something like “I love you, Violet. You’re the one I want.”

  The only sound was the occasional firecracker outside and the noise of people gathering on the street. The racket through the open windows made the children gobble their breakfasts.

  “Travis,” Violet said, “you will watch the kids and not let them do anything dangerous that might blow off a finger or something?”

  He frowned at her. “Now what kind of question is that? You kids will be careful with the fireworks, won’t you?”

  All four heads nodded. “Can we go now?” They were already scampering away from the table.

  “I reckon.” Travis grinned and stood up and looked around. “Where’s Growler?” he asked.

  “Hiding under the bed,” Bonnie lisped. “Him scared.”

  “Well, leave him there for the day,” Travis said. “You coming for the parade, Violet?”

  “I got to pack the picnic first,” she answered.

  “See you outside then.” Travis nodded and got up. The kids gathered around him with excitement as Violet began to clean off the table. Usually the kids would have helped her, but today they were too excited. She heard them all go out the front door as she cleared off the table and began to fry chicken and make potato salad for her family. Her family. She had long ago began to think of them that way, but after Travis had made love to her last night, did he feel the same way, or was she just a convenient female? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  She soon had her picnic basket packed and went out the door to join the crowds gathered along Main Street. The parade was starting from three blocks down the street in front of the livery stable. She looked around for Travis and didn’t see him.

  Then the band music began, maybe a little off-key, but playing a march loudly. Mr. O’Neal, the pompous owner of the hardware store, was the drum major and he marched out in front of the band as they came down the street. Violet looked around for her kids. She saw them then, halfway down the block and across the street. Travis stood with all the kids but Kessie. He had Bonnie up on his broad shoulders. The kids waved at her, but Travis seemed preoccupied. The band marched past, and then the Men’s Athletic Club. Violet thought the most athletic thing any of them had done in years was hoist a beer in the back room of the pool hall. A wagon pulled the suffragette group and she looked anxiously for Kessie. Some of the people around her booed and yelled, “Liberals! Get back in your kitchens!” at the ladies as they waved their VOTES FOR WOMEN signs.

  There were horses in the parade and a couple of men dressed like clowns. Some mischievous boys ran out and threw firecrackers under the horses and sent them neighing and rearing.

  The Women’s Social Club came by riding in Mrs. Van Mayes’s fancy barouche and of course, she was among them, along with Mrs. Clay, the banker’s wife, and her two ugly daughters; Miss Knowlen, t
he librarian; and Miss Brewster, the bony schoolmarm. CULTURAL EVENTS AND CIVILIZATION FOR PLEASANT VALLEY read their banner.

  Charlotte waved at Violet and she pretended not to notice.

  Once the parade was over, everyone gathered in the park for games and contests. There were booths where one could win a toy bear by knocking over the wooden pins with a ball, and all sorts of other games, a booth to buy tart, cold lemonade and slices of watermelon. The suffragettes had set up a booth handing out their literature, and that’s where Violet found Kessie.

  A group of toughs had gathered to catcall the women and throw horse manure at them.

  “Stop that!” Violet yelled. “Stop that!”

  “And whose gonna make us, lady?” one of the rough boys yelled back.

  She looked around. She knew there were no lawmen here. The sheriff was still laid up from his brush with the gun shop robbers and his deputy had driven the two outlaws over to the county seat for trial and hadn’t gotten back yet.

  Travis strode up just then. “You boys stop it. These ladies got the right to pass out their papers. They aren’t hurting anyone.”

  One of the Jenkins boys acted as if he might start an argument, but another whispered, “That’s the one who stopped the robbery. I hear he used to be a Texas Ranger.”

  “Aw, he’s got a crippled arm,” jeered another. “He ain’t no problem.”

  Travis advanced on the boys. “You want to try me?”

  The boys turned and ran, blended into the crowd.

  Violet smiled, “Thanks. I was afraid it might get rough.”

  He didn’t smile. “Get Kessie out of that booth so she can help you with the picnic.”

  Violet glanced up at the sky. It must be about noon and the weather was getting hot. “Oh, I reckon it is about time to eat.”

  Mrs. Van Mayes hurried up and grabbed Travis’s arm. “Why don’t you and your children join me? I’m sure my servants have packed a lot of delicious food.”

  Travis hesitated. “I think I’d better eat with Violet and the kids.”

  The lady shrugged. “I’m sure her cooking won’t be anything fancy.”

  “Maybe not, but it suits me,” Travis said and picked up Violet’s basket.

  They started toward the picnic grounds with the kids running ahead of them through the crowd.

  “Thank you for that,” Violet said.

  “Don’t mention it.” He caught her elbow as they walked.

  She waited for him to say something about last night, but he didn’t. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her.

  They laid out their picnic on a blanket on the grass in the shade of a big live oak tree. Around them, other families had spread their food and children ran between the blankets, playing tag and yelling to each other.

  Violet opened her basket and looked up at Travis. “I hope you’re not disappointed. Charlotte probably had a lot of delicacies and all I’ve got is fried chicken and chocolate cake.”

  He grinned at her. “It doesn’t get any better than that. You sell yourself too short, Violet.”

  She began to lay out the food. “Later, I’d like to talk about last night.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he murmured. “Do you regret it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Neither do I,” he answered and sat down on the edge of the blanket. Then he turned and yelled at the kids. “Hey, if you don’t come on, I’ll eat every bite.”

  They all tumbled onto the blanket like a bunch of puppies, laughing and romping.

  “Watch out!” Violet cautioned. “You’ll spill the lemonade.”

  “Settle down,” Travis said. “There’s a whole afternoon ahead and skyrockets tonight.”

  Each child grabbed a piece of golden fried chicken.

  “Oh, good,” Harold said. “Is there fried potatoes?”

  “No, potato salad,” Violet answered, “and homemade pickles and fresh bread.”

  Kessie looked around at each one as she ate. “We’re just like a real family.”

  “We are a real family,” Travis said.

  Violet didn’t say anything, wondering if Travis had any idea that she was going away tonight as he slept. “Who wants lemonade?”

  Of course everyone did. She didn’t realize how thirsty she was until she tasted the cool, tart juice and the sugar on the side of the glass.

  Bonnie said, “Save some for Growler.”

  “Of course, honey.” She grabbed the toddler and tried to wipe off her greasy face. “You look like you need a nap.”

  “That sounds great,” Travis said and spread out on the edge of the blanket, put his Stetson over his face.

  Violet sipped her lemonade and smiled at the children. Now they had chocolate cake smeared across their mouths, but she didn’t say anything. No matter what happened in the future, life was good today and she wouldn’t think past that.

  At about one o’clock, the horse racing and the shooting matches began while the ladies sat in the shade and visited and small children like Bonnie napped on the blankets under the trees.

  Of course the shooting match, with the fine black filly as a prize, was the major event of the day. Most of the men and some of the boys had entered this contest at the edge of the park.

  People began to gather to watch this big event. Targets had been set up at the end of the park and dozens of men and boys lined up with their rifles to take their shots.

  Violet gathered up her picnic and Bonnie was awake now. Violet looked at Travis. “Has Houston got a chance?”

  Travis nodded. “He’s pretty good for a boy. I’ve been teaching him. Having a bum leg doesn’t stop him from being a good shot.”

  “He’s just so determined to have that horse,” Violet said. “I don’t want him to be disappointed if he doesn’t win.”

  Travis shrugged. “That’s part of becoming a man. You can’t have everything you want, you can only try your best.”

  “That’s right.”

  She left her picnic basket by the tree and took Bonnie’s hand as they walked over to watch the men lining up to shoot.

  Some of the boys hooted when scrawny Houston stepped up to the starting line. He was the last one to compete and Travis was whispering to him earnestly.

  A boy yelled, “Hey, crip, you think you can shoot?”

  Houston looked back at him. “I think I can,” he said softly. “I want that horse.”

  “Now, young man,” said the livery store owner, “you’ll have to beat my score. I’m a pretty good shot and I want that horse, too.”

  Banker Clay asked, “Mr. Prescott, are you gonna try?”

  Travis shook his head. “Everyone knows about my wrist. Besides, Houston is planning to win.”

  More catcalling and laughter.

  Travis knelt down by Houston’s side. “You calm?”

  The boy shook his head. “No, not at all.”

  “Don’t let them rattle you,” Travis whispered. “Concentrate on your aim and everything I taught you. Someday, knowing how to shoot may save your life or someone you love.”

  “Will it make me a real cowboy?”

  Travis nodded. “A cowman’s got to protect his livestock, you know.”

  Houston hefted the rifle and put it to his shoulder.

  Travis whispered, “Remember to notice the wind and how it’ll affect your shot.”

  Houston nodded and the crowd grew quiet. Somewhere in the crowd a dog barked and a baby cried.

  There was a long moment of silence as Houston aimed and then he squeezed the trigger.

  The sound of the bullet echoed and re-echoed through the hot afternoon and a judge yelled, “By God, he’s hit the center of the target!”

  A roar and a cheer from the crowd as one of the judges announced, “The finalists are Houston Prescott, Zeke Tubb, the livery store owner, and Jake Gray, the rancher.”

  Violet blinked back tears as Houston looked toward her proudly and she nodded encouragement. Travis put his
arm around the boy’s shoulders and the crowd watched as the other two took their shots. The livery stable owner, Zeke Tubb, missed the bull’s-eye.

  The old rancher hit the bull’s-eye but off center. Now it was time for Houston to take another shot.

  Travis put his hand on the boy’s frail shoulder. “You’re named for a great Texan, now show them how it’s done.”

  The crowd grew so quiet it seemed to Violet that everyone was holding his breath. She, too, held her breath and hung on to Bonnie’s hand as the other children gathered around her. She knew how much that horse meant to Houston and they certainly couldn’t afford to buy one for him if he didn’t win the fine black filly.

  She watched Travis standing by Houston, whispering advice and then the boy put his rifle to his shoulder and aimed. The whole crowd seemed breathless in waiting and then Houston squeezed the trigger.

  After a split second, there was a roar from the crowd as a judge announced, “It’s dead center! Dead center, ladies and gentlemen. Houston Prescott has won!”

  There was a roar from the crowd as Houston rushed to throw his arms around the black filly’s neck.

  Violet was so happy, tears began to run down her face.

  “Why you sad?” Bonnie asked and put her chubby arms around Violet’s neck.

  “I’m not sad, I’m happy for Houston,” Violet explained, and then she and the kids ran forward to hug the skinny boy and congratulate him.

  “I did it!” he said. “I did it!” He looked almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

  “Yep.” Travis slapped him on the back. “Yep, you did it. You’re a credit to the man whose name you bear. Now you take her home and put her in our stable, you hear? Next year, we’ll breed her to Mouse and you’ll have the start of a fine horse ranch.”

  “Wanta ride,” Bonnie begged. “Wanta ride.”

  In the end, Houston had to give all the children rides before he headed home to put the new horse in their barn.

  “Speaking of Mouse,” Violet said, “aren’t you entering him in the race?”

  Travis shook his head. “The Prescotts have won one big prize today. It don’t seem fair to win them all.”