Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  “She’s going of her own free will.” Travis reached absently to pat the dog.

  “How can you let her?” Harold demanded. “We don’t want her to go.”

  He was angry now, angry with Violet for causing all this pain. He realized part of the pain was his. “You kids don’t understand. She’s not what we thought she was.”

  “We don’t care!” All the kids set up a howl. “She’s Violet and she looks after us and loves us and we all love her, too.”

  Travis frowned. “I used to think she loved us, but now I know she was just making fools of us. She don’t love us at all.”

  “She does, too,” the toddler wept. “Violet. We want her back.”

  “Damn it!” Travis couldn’t control the anger and the anguish in his voice. “Don’t any of you understand? She’s decided to go back to Kansas. I can’t stop her.”

  “No, no. She wouldn’t go if you asked her not to,” Kessie begged and chewed her nails.

  “Naw, she’d laugh at me,” Travis argued. “All she cares about is nice clothes and fun and plenty of money.”

  Houston sat down on the arm of the chair. “I’ve saved forty-five cents, and I’d give it to her if she needs money.”

  “You don’t understand,” Travis said again. “She’s going back to the life she loves. Her time with us was one big lie.”

  Harold looked at him, tears in the almond eyes. “She always acted like she wanted to be here with us. She was the best mother ever.”

  “I thought she was, too,” Travis said, “but I reckon she made fools of all of us. As far as a mother—” He thought about it a minute. There was nothing he could do but ask the town ladies to find homes for all these kids or take them home to his own mother to raise. He shook his head. His parents couldn’t take on the expense of four kids, even though they’d want to try. Their small ranch didn’t make that much money.

  “Can we do anything to stop her?” Houston asked.

  Travis snapped, “There’s nothing we can do. She’s decided to leave. Now, you kids see if you can rustle up some grub. She’ll be leaving on the seven o’clock train and I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  The children wiped their eyes and started toward the kitchen, all except Bonnie, who continued to cry.

  Travis sighed, remembering Bonnie’s past. Would she go back to being Boo Hoo and crying all the time? He felt helpless without Violet. He loved kids, but he didn’t know how to handle four kids without her.

  In a few minutes, Kessie called from the kitchen, “I got milk and some bread and butter. There’s some leftover cold chicken from the picnic.”

  “Good.” Travis stood up. “We’ll do just fine by ourselves. We don’t need Violet.”

  That unleashed fresh tears from little Bonnie, and even Growler looked up at him like he’d like to bite Travis.

  They all gathered around the table and looked at each other morosely.

  Harold said, “Are you gonna marry Mrs. Van Mayes?”

  The other kids all moaned aloud and Travis sighed. “I reckon I could. It would give you all a home.” Somehow, the idea seemed distasteful.

  Nobody said anything as Kessie brought dishes and leftovers. Travis picked at his chicken, but he had no appetite and he noted none of the kids were eating. “You kids should eat something.”

  “You aren’t eating anything,” Houston said.

  “Yes, I am.” Travis took a bite. “Hmm, this is really good. Everyone eat up.”

  “What time is it?” Kessie asked.

  Travis pulled out his pocket watch. “Almost five thirty.”

  “That still gives you over an hour to talk her out of going,” Harold said.

  “Damn it!” Travis swore, standing up suddenly and upsetting his chair. “How can I get you kids to understand that I’ve got my pride? You don’t understand what kind of a woman she is—why, the whole town is shocked and gossiping about her. She’s no good and I ain’t gonna make a fool of myself again.” He stomped into the parlor and looked out the open window. The sun was moving toward the west, but it was still hot as a chili pepper outside and there weren’t many people on the street. He stared toward the hotel and wondered what was going on over there.

  Oh God, he’d be glad when that northbound train came through and she was out of this town and out of his life forever. He sat down in his chair and tried to roll a cigarette, but his hands shook and finally, he gave up and threw the paper and tobacco down in disgust.

  Bonnie toddled into the parlor and stood looking at him. Her little face was streaked with tears. He held out his arms to her. “Come on, honey, I’ll hold you.”

  She shook her head and burst into tears. “Violet! Want Violet!”

  “Well, damn it, you can’t have her!” he exploded. “Don’t you understand? She’s leaving us. Maybe she never cared about us to begin with.”

  At that, Bonnie ran from the room and into her room, slamming the door.

  “Well.” Kessie looked at him. “Now you’ve really got her crying.”

  “It’s not my fault,” he snapped, angry with Violet for all the pain she was causing. He hadn’t realized how much he would miss her and she wasn’t even out of town yet. “You kids get a checkers game or some cards started.”

  “Will you play with us?” Harold asked.

  “Sure.” He had to have something to occupy his mind until that train took Violet away. He tried to play checkers with the kids, but he couldn’t keep his mind on what he was doing and even Kessie beat him.

  The freckled-faced girl gave him a sympathetic look. “You miss her too much already to keep your mind on the game.”

  “Naw,” he said and shook his head. “It’s been a long day and I’m just tired.” He glanced out the window as he saw the shadows of evening lengthening. He would not let himself pull out his watch, but he knew it wouldn’t be long now. There was no one on the streets. Somehow, the town had lost its interest in the Fourth of July or maybe they were expecting trouble. Well, there wasn’t going to be any. After what she’d admitted, to hell with her and good riddance. She’d made a bigger fool of him than Emily had.

  Then he heard the far-off whistle of a train and the kids all ran to the window. “It’s coming! It’s coming!”

  He pulled out his watch and stared at it. Ten minutes to seven. It was right on time.

  “Can we go watch her get on?” Houston had tears in his eyes. “Maybe when she sees us, she won’t go.”

  “Hell, no, you can’t,” Travis snapped. “We don’t want her to think we give a damn whether she goes or not.”

  “But we do care,” Harold argued.

  The train whistled again, drawing closer now, and little Bonnie came running from her bedroom. “Train! Train coming!”

  All the children were gathered around the open window now, looking out. Travis tried to force himself to stay in his chair, but he finally stood up and walked to the window. Out of the hotel came three figures, two big men and a woman dressed in gaudy red.

  Kessie gasped. “Look how Violet is dressed. Why is she dressed that way?”

  Travis stared. His darling, innocent Violet dressed in a scanty scarlet costume, red plumes in her brown hair as she sauntered across the dusty street with the gambler and his gunman.

  The train whistled again, even closer now as the trio crossed the street and stood at the train station down the block. They could still see her from here.

  “Feathers,” whispered Bonnie. “Feathers.”

  “What?” Travis asked and he looked and saw the scarlet, gaudy plumes in Violet’s hair. Feathers. Bonnie had known all along.

  The late evening sun shone on the feathers and on the diamond stickpin in the gambler’s tie. A diamond horseshoe, Travis thought and then it dawned on him so that he laughed without mirth. “Of course, it’s the same hombre, the one who took Emily.” And now the rotten bastard was taking Violet.

  The train roared toward the station, slowed and then stopped with a shower of bla
ck smoke and soot. The conductor took the carpetbags from Slade and their tickets as they stood on the station platform, making ready to board.

  Violet looked back at the house one last time and Bonnie whimpered, “She’s crying! Violet don’t want to go! She’s crying!”

  “What?” Travis stared out the window. Sure enough, he could see Violet’s face and it was twisted in misery with tears from those blue eyes coursing down her cheeks.

  In that split second, he made a decision. In his heart, he finally admitted to himself that he loved Violet and he couldn’t let her go, no matter how flawed she was.

  “Damn it!” he swore and grabbed for his gun belt hanging on the wall.

  The kids all looked at him.

  “What are you doing?” Harold asked as Travis buckled on his Colt, took out the pistol, checked it, slid it back in the holster.

  “They’ll take her over my dead body!” Travis declared and swung open the door.

  “What about your bad wrist?” Kessie asked. “It’ll get you killed.”

  A Texas Ranger is a man who knows what’s right and keeps right on coming.

  “It may, but I can’t let them take her without a fight. You kids stay here!” he ordered, and then he stepped out on the porch and began striding toward the trio.

  Violet gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “No, don’t!”

  The two men with her turned to face the big man striding toward them, staring at him in disbelief.

  The gambler yelled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, plowboy?”

  “You took Emily, you bastard,” Travis shouted. “But you ain’t taking Violet.”

  Violet stuttered. “No, Travis, I—I want to go with him.”

  “Stop lying!” Travis yelled. “Even Bonnie knows the truth.” He kept walking, aware of the way Slade’s hand hovered over his gun belt, the shadowy faces of people in nearby windows watching the drama. “Step away from her, you sleazy bastards, and fight like men!”

  Duke’s handsome face paled. “I ain’t wearing a gun, cowboy.”

  Violet gasped, knowing they wouldn’t give him a fair fight. Slade would grab his gun hand and Duke would shoot Travis down with that hidden derringer. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Travis came up to them now and there was a split-second pause. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware Slade was moving toward Travis’s right. Then Duke’s hand went inside his fine coat even as Violet threw herself against his arm, grabbing his hand. There was a sudden burst of noise and acrid gunpowder. She screamed in pain and then crumpled, still hanging on to the gambler’s hand, struggling with him over a tiny derringer.

  Travis couldn’t shoot without hitting Violet. He stepped forward suddenly, hitting the gambler hard on the chin.

  “Travis, look out!” Violet screamed and he was abruptly aware of the sudden movement of Slade. Travis slapped leather and abruptly, Slade reached out and knocked the Colt down, spoiling Travis’s aim and sending agony rushing through his right hand. He stumbled, knowing he was a split second too late even as the bleeding girl struggled with the gambler, turned the derringer against Duke’s fine frock coat and pulled the trigger.

  Through a cloud of pain, Travis heard the derringer go off again and the look of horror on Duke’s face as he froze and stumbled forward, even as Violet fell, the wooden sidewalk bright with her blood.

  Travis was on his knees, struggling to overcome the pain and bring his Colt up to pull the trigger.

  He saw a flash of movement as Slade drew and fired, and Travis fired, but he knew he was a second too late. He felt Slade’s slug tear into his side and he staggered, struggling to keep his pistol firing, but it fell from his useless right hand. Travis knew terrible pain and heard heavy boots walking toward him as he fell to the sidewalk.

  A big shadow loomed over him and Travis struggled to reach his pistol, but his fingers had gone numb.

  “Now, you plowboy,” growled Slade. “I’m gonna finish you off !”

  Travis tried to grasp his pistol, but he couldn’t control his right hand and his wrist felt on fire. He heard Slade’s trigger being pulled back. So this was what it was like to die. It didn’t matter now if he died with his darling Violet already dead, trying to save him, but who would take care of his kids? Yes, his kids. He had to keep them together and care for them. He tried to cock his own pistol as he heard the other man laugh.

  And then there was a sudden sound, not a pistol but the crack of a rifle. Travis looked up and saw the surprised expression on the gunfighter’s face and the sudden spurt of blood running down his denim shirt. Slade grabbed for his chest as if he could hold back the bright river of red. “A kid,” he whispered. “Best gunfighter in the west taken by a kid.” Then he staggered and crashed down.

  What? Who? Travis used his last ounce of strength to turn his head to see the children running down the street, following Houston, who carried his rifle. “I got him, Travis! Travis, are you all right?”

  “Violet,” he whispered as he crawled toward her and took her limp body in his arms. “Get Doc Adams,” he gasped to Houston. “She can’t die—I love her so.” Then he collapsed into darkness.

  Epilogue

  Long Horn, Texas

  July 4, 1890

  “Come on, slowpoke.” Violet moved her fat baby boy to her other arm and gestured to the big man sauntering toward her. “Everyone will be in town before we get there.”

  Travis grinned at her as he walked up to the waiting buggy. “No hurry, Mrs. Prescott. The celebration will last all day.”

  “But the picnic basket’s in the other buggy and I’m getting hungry.”

  “You want me to take Tommy?”

  She nodded and handed their baby over to her husband. Tommy had a tight grip on the little wooden horse.

  Travis put his arm around her and kissed her. “Well, I see Houston gave him my lucky piece. Did Mom and Dad go on into town with the kids?”

  She nodded as he helped her up into the buggy, then handed her their baby boy and climbed up next to her. “The kids were all so excited about the fireworks, they wanted to go early. Of course, Houston insisted on riding Onyx.”

  He laughed. “He’s making a real rancher, that one, and Onyx’s foal looks just like Mouse. Houston’s got the start of a good herd.”

  They drove past their pasture and the big gray stallion raised his head and nickered.

  “Sorry, Mouse,” Travis called. “You’ll have to enjoy your time off and I’ll bring you an apple later.”

  She smiled at him, loving him like she’d never thought she could love a man. “I’m glad we can afford to send Harold and Kessie to college when the time comes.”

  “Have I told you how much I love you?” He smiled at her as they drove along.

  “Not since breakfast.”

  “I never knew I could be so happy,” he murmured. Tommy gurgled and Travis reached out to cluck him under the chin. “We’ve got a big family, Violet, honey, but I want even more.”

  “Five kids aren’t enough for you?”

  “Naw, let’s have a dozen.” He winked at her and then snapped the reins at the bay horse and they drove along toward town. “Where’s Growler?”

  “Hiding under Bonnie’s bed. I reckon he’ll come out when the fireworks are over.”

  “By the way, tomorrow, the Rangers need me again. Manhunt over near Abilene.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t ride with the Rangers, but I reckon they need you.”

  “Someone’s got to keep this state safe for honest people, honey, and the Rangers will probably still be doing it a hundred years from now.”

  She looked back at their ranch gate as they drove through it. “Who’d ever thought last July Fourth that a year later, we’d have our own big spread?”

  “Well, the reward you and Houston got for killing those two thugs not only paid for all those surgeons back east, it bought the ranch next to my folks.”

  She leaned her face against his arm as they drove
along in the summer heat. “Last year at this time, I thought we were both goners.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Old Doc Adams was a better doctor than we thought and we were both so determined to live.”

  “Do you have any regrets about marrying me?” She looked up at him as they drove.

  “Never!” he said and stared down into her blue eyes. “I love you, Violet, and let’s close the door on the past forever. Nothing matters but the future, right?”

  “And our love,” she promised as she reached up to kiss him again and then cuddled little Tommy closer as they drove into Long Horn for the Fourth of July celebration.

  Fans of Western historical romances

  won’t want to miss any of the books in

  Georgina Gentry’s exciting new series,

  THE TEXANS.

  Read on for a sample of

  RIO.

  He’s a man who burns as hot and free as a wildfire—and where love is concerned, he’s twice as dangerous . . .

  Rio Kelly knows what he wants when he sees it—and he wants the ebony-haired, fair-skinned beauty with the extraordinary blue eyes, Turquoise Sanchez. But in the battle for her love, this bold vaquero is competing with a Texas senator who’s used to getting his way, at any cost.

  Turquoise knows the sensible choice would be to marry the wealthy senator and enjoy a lifetime of comfort and status. But her heart has chosen differently. If she dares to follow her passion—and defy one of Texas’s most powerful and ruthless men—she and her defiant cowboy are in for the fight of their lives . . .

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  Mixcoac, Mexico

  September 13, 1847

  Padraic Kelly looked around at the cactus and barren land, then chafed at the hemp rope around his neck that also tied his hands behind him. The oxcart he stood in creaked under his feet as the animal stamped its hooves in impatience and the smell of blood and gunpowder.