The Saloon Girl's Journey (Texas Women of Spirit Book 3)

by Angela Castillo

  “Darla, I haven’t known you very long, but I like learning more about you. You have such a kind spirit. The way you see people gives me a new perspective, even though I have been involved in charity work for most of my life. It’s refreshing.”

  He touched her hand with one calloused finger, and her lips tingled with the notion that he might do it, he might bend down and kiss her right there on the street.

  Instead he blinked and moved back, withdrawing his hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what caused me to be so forward with you. You must not think I’m much of a gentleman.”

  “Oh no!” she blurted. “I would never think that.”

  “Please try not to run off any more, at least until you get your bearings in this city. Promise?”

  “Sure.” Part of Darla wanted to insist she could take care of herself in any place, at any time, without the help of any man. A piece of her heart felt satisfied and safe to walk beside this quiet, gentle man who cared for more than the parts of her he could steal away.

  They continued down the street without further conversation, but Darla couldn’t help humming a few bars from the whiskey hall’s tune.

  5 CHURCH

  The next several days passed faster than cards in the hands of a poker shark.

  Darla didn’t get a chance to work with Ethan again, though she went with the other women to hand out food. Occasionally he would join them at dinner table. When she asked Lisbeth about his whereabouts in the most innocent manner she could muster, the girl rolled her eyes and replied he was “making repairs.”

  After that, Darla noticed the banging sounds coming from the walls or under the floorboards at any given hour, or she would catch a glimpse of him striding through the fields, carrying boards or buckets of rocks.

  It didn’t take long for Darla to become accustomed to early mornings and days of chores. However, the first Sunday she nearly disgraced herself and all of Downs House by nodding off in the second pew of Dallas Baptist Church.

  As her chin touched the stiff collar of her dress, she started and blinked. Heat rose to her cheeks and she pretended to wipe a speck of dirt from the cover of her Bible.

  “Holy, Holy, Holy!

  though the darkness hide Thee,

  Though the eye of sinful man,

  Thy glory may not see:

  Only Thou art holy,

  there is none beside Thee,

  Perfect in power, in love, and purity.”

  Despite her weariness, she savored the old hymn as the notes swelled from the organ. She closed her eyes and thought of her dad, tall and proud beside her in the family pew, singing the same song in his deep voice.

  The minister shuffled to the front, leaning on a cane, his bald head shining in the light of lamps suspended from chains on the ceiling. When he reached the pulpit, he smiled out at the congregation and then began to quote a scripture.

  “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters . . .”

  Darla found his tone comforting, and appreciated that the minister didn’t shout and pound the pulpit like the pastor from the church when she was a child. Though it might help me stay awake.

  During the sermon, she couldn’t help sneaking glances at the people who shared her pew.

  Indigo sat beside her, face unreadable as always. In all the hours they’d worked together, milking cows or mending clothes taken from the poor barrel, Darla hadn’t been able to pry more than a few words from the woman. She wasn’t sure if Indigo was addled in the head, or too shy to function.

  Lisbeth sat between Indigo and Ma Downs, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks while she mouthed a silent prayer.

  Marnie and Sadie were staunch Presbyterians, so Ma Downs grudgingly allowed them to attend the church down the street. Mrs. Brodie suffered from a cold, so she had stayed home.

  Ma Downs stood straight as a cornstalk, her head and ostrich plumes the only thing bent in any sort of submission. She sang and prayed with firm resolution, as though the entire church could be lost without her full participation.

  Ethan anchored the group at the end of the pew. Occasionally, he would send a slanted look down the row, catch Darla’s eye, and they would both turn their heads away.

  Darla dared to glance his way again, just enough to see the collar of his shirt.

  Instead of Ethan’s amused eyes, she caught his mother’s frown. Darla’s face grew hot and she jerked her eyes to the front of the room where the patient minister was gesturing for the organist to play the final hymn.

  As Darla sang, a thought crashed into the fine little castle she had built up for herself. How can I think Ethan would care for me? The idea was so crippling, her knees buckled a little. She steadied herself on the pew in front of her.

  He doesn’t know about my past. He doesn’t know the occupation I’ve held, so disgraceful to society. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. I can’t allow him to believe I’m a woman of upstanding morals. I might as well have ‘Jezebel’ written right across my forehead.

  The congregation bowed their collective heads for the closing prayer. The reverend’s words poured out into the room, golden and smooth as new honey.

  When the prayer ended, Darla followed the other bonnets as they bobbed out ahead of her.

  The minister grasped Ma Downs by the hand when she went out the door in front of Darla.

  “Mrs. Downs.” His blue eyes twinkled under bushy white eyebrows. “How are you today? And what is this I’ve heard about you volunteering to head up the orphan’s Christmas dinner again this year?”

  “But of course.” Ma Downs stiffened, her thin lips the only moving feature of her expressionless face. “I wouldn’t miss the orphan’s banquet.”

  The minister’s smile sent waves through his wrinkled cheeks, and he adjusted his spectacles and glanced down the line behind Ma Downs at Darla and Lisbeth. “And I’m sure these ladies will help. Your house does such good work in this community, to assist the poor and show these unfortunate women how to be useful members of society. Is this a new one, then?” He took Darla’s hand and shook it warmly. “Hello, my dear. I’m Reverend Martin.”

  Darla couldn’t help but smile in return. “Yes, sir. I’m Darla North. Very pleased to meet you.” She gave a little curtsy, and then reddened. Is it proper to curtsy in church?

  “Let me welcome you to our city.” Reverend Martin straightened his shirt front. “Are you finding it to your liking?”

  “It ain’t . . . isn’t too shabby,” said Darla. She glanced over at Ma Downs, whose eyes narrowed.

  “Now, this old memory needs a bit of shaking. Did you mention where you came from?”

  “No, Sir, I never did. A good day to you.” Darla flashed him what she hoped was a dazzling smile and hurried out the door to join Lisbeth. The Irish girl was standing by a man in a black bowler hat, who prattled on and on about something.

  Lisbeth’s lips pressed into a smile so forced Darla was afraid they might be stuck that way forever.

  Darla tugged at her sleeve. “Shall we go home?”

  “Yes, please,” Lisbeth sank against her.

  “Another time?” Bowler Hat doffed his head covering, revealing a few sparse, greasy hairs.

  Lisbeth gave him a withering look from behind her shawl and the two girls moved to the street.

  On the way, they passed Ethan, who was talking to a middle-aged couple Darla had not yet been introduced to. A woman stood at his elbow and kept plucking at his arm. She threw back her head in response to something he said. Her perfect white teeth gleamed and brown curls cascaded down her back from under a fashionable Sunday bonnet.

  “That man is insufferable,” muttered Lisbeth, pulling Darla’s attention from Ethan and his mysterious companions.

  “Oh, you mean that fellow you were speaking to? Poor man. What’s wrong with him?” asked Darla.

  “Have you seen the way his lips turn down at the corners?” Lis
beth shook her head. “I can’t watch him speak without thinking of a giant trout.”

  “Now that you mention it . . . that’s exactly what he looks like! Oh dear.” Darla put her hand up to her mouth. “Now I won’t be able to speak to him either!”

  The two women laughed so hard they were forced to stop and lean against each other in the street.

  They sobered at the sight of Ma Downs barreling towards them, her face like a thundercloud.

  “How could you be so rude?” she addressed Darla. Her voice broke as though she were on the verge of tears. “Reverend Martin was beside himself. He asked you a simple question, and could not understand why you were so short with him.”

  “Oh dear, I didn’t mean it!” Darla wrung her hands. “I don’t like talking about . . . where I came from. But I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.”

  Ma Downs’s eyes softened, and to Darla’s surprise, she reached out and smoothed the faded collar of the hideous cabbage-flower dress.

  “You poor dear. Don’t think you’re the only one with a difficult past. All of the ladies, including myself, have been through the darkest moments imaginable.”

  Yes,” Lisbeth said softly. “My daddy beat me, and years later, my husband did too. It’s my good fortune they are both in their graves, or I’d be in mine, sure as sure.”

  Darla’s shoulders sagged. If only these kind women knew. “I’m truly sorry,” she said to Ma Downs. She squinted back down the road towards the church, already several blocks behind them. “I promise I’ll apologize next Sunday.”

  “It’s all right,” said Ma Downs. Her pace quickened as they rounded the corner to the last street before home. “Now, ladies, we must discuss this Christmas banquet.”

  “Is the banquet at the orphanage?” Darla asked.

  “Yes,” said Ma Downs. “All the orphans come, along with the benefactors for Down’s House.”

  “Benefactors?” Darla stepped around a particularly large puddle. “You mean the folks that give money?”

  “Yes. Did you see those people Ethan was speaking to out in the church yard?” Lisbeth pointed back down the lane. “The Bugle family has supported Down’s House for fifteen years. They come to all our big events to make sure funds aren’t spent in foolish or wasteful ways.” She leaned toward Darla, lowering her voice. “Otherwise they might give the money to someone else.”

  Ma Downs stopped short in the road. “That is preposterous. They wouldn’t do such a thing for any reason.” She sighed. “However, it is important we do everything exactly right. No sense offending anyone.” Sharp eyes settled on Darla. “Which means you need to be careful what you say, Missy.”

  Darla lowered her head. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Lisbeth tugged on Darla’s elbow and waited until Ma Downs was out of earshot. “If Ethan would go and marry the Bugle’s daughter, Samantha, they’d never withdraw their support. That’s what Ma Downs hopes. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping a roof over all of our heads.”

  “Samantha?” Darla remembered the beautiful girl hanging on to Ethan’s arm. She shuddered.

  Lisbeth laughed. “You should see your face. You look like the mama hog when someone bothers her babies.”

  Darla tried to look shocked. “Why would I worry myself about who Ethan’s sweet on?”

  Lisbeth raised her eyebrows but didn’t reply.

  Just the same, Samantha Bugle better watch out. Darla held on to this dark thought until she reached the gate of Downs House, where she repented and left it behind in the street.

  6 SECRETS

  The sharp scent of cedar filled the parlor, where Darla, Lisbeth and Indigo fashioned wreaths from fresh boughs brought in from the nearby woods. The Pennel sisters and Mrs. Brodie were in the small room next to the parlor, which served for a sewing area, piecing together doll dresses. Each orphan girl would receive a handmade rag doll. Ethan had been whittling whistles and tops for the boys.

  “Are we going to make shiny paper stars, or tie red ribbons on these?” Darla asked, holding up a prickly, fragrant wreath.

  The other two women stared at her.

  Indigo frowned. “No,” she replied in her typical one-syllable response.

  “Why not? Surely a few cents for paper could be spared.” Darla held out the circlet and looked it over. “This seems so plain.”

  Lisbeth bit her lip and focused on her work.

  Patience, who had been allowed a rare break from housework to help with preparations for the festivities, popped up from her place on the floor where she was clipping branches into the proper length. “Miss Darla, we don’t ever have money to spare.”

  “No, not in the two Christmases I’ve been here. It’s always been a pretty plain affair.” Lisbeth said. The pile of branches by her foot shifted and Danny poked up his furry face, cheeks round with the acorns he’d been stuffing into it.

  “Hide Danny.” Indigo pointed to the animal.

  “Ma won’t be back from the market for ages.” Lisbeth waved her hand. “He’s fine for now.”

  Indigo shook her head, wrinkles furrowing above her eyebrows. All the ladies in the house played with Danny and helped to hide him from Ma Downs, but Darla knew they also thought Lisbeth took too many chances. Privately, she agreed, but she’d already learned when Lisbeth had a mind to do something, not much would change it.

  Darla tried again. “These orphans, they have such little joy and color in their lives. Even at the sa—at the place I used to live, we decorated every free surface with any ornaments we could get our hands on.”

  Patience’s head bobbed up again. “I have lots of paper, Miss Darla. It might work all right.”

  “Really?” Darla clasped her hands. “Would you show me?”

  Patience darted a look at Lisbeth, and her beautiful brown eyes widened. “The papers are in my room. A fancy lady like you might not want to come in there.”

  “Fancy?” Darla rolled her eyes. “Silly girl. I’m not a bit fancy. I didn’t pick out this face or these blond curls for myself. God did. Could you please show me your papers, Patience?”

  The little girl sighed and went to the door. “Come this way, Miss Darla.”

  Brushing pine needles from her dress, Darla nodded to Lisbeth and Indigo. “I’ll be right back.”

  Lisbeth made a noise in the back of her throat but said nothing.

  She’s not the only one who’s stubborn. Darla lifted her chin and swept out of the room.

  The house was divided by a long narrow open-air section Ma Downs called a ‘dog-trot,’ though Darla doubted a dog had ever set foot in the home. One side held the bedrooms, parlor and entry way, the other half had the kitchen, dining area, washroom, and storage.

  Patience beckoned to her. “This way, Miss Darla. Let’s hurry.” The little girl craned her neck to look over her shoulder. “I want to be back in here before Mrs. Downs comes home.”

  “Why are you so worried?” Darla picked up her skirts to keep up. “It’s a project for the orphans’ banquet, and she asked us to help.”

  The girl didn’t answer, just pushed open the door to the kitchen.

  Darla had only been in the kitchen a few times. This part of the house was the territory of Mrs. Betty, Patience’s mother, and she didn’t take kindly to unfortunates disturbing her kingdom of flaky pies, steaming soup, and stacks of clean dishes. Rows of gleaming pots hung from a metal contraption suspended from the ceiling. Wooden cabinets with peeling white paint lined the walls.

  Mrs. Betty, a short, plump woman with umber skin and a stiff, starched apron, stirred something in a pot on the stove and hummed to herself.

  As Darla and Patience clattered around the counter, she turned and put a hand on her hip. “Patience, what are you doing bringing Miss Fancy back here?”

  “Your daughter wanted to show me something in her room, if that’s all right. And I’m really not fancy, I’m just a person,” said Darla, not sure if she should feel offended or amused. She resisted the impulse to stick he
r finger in a nearby bowl of what appeared to be cookie batter.

  Mrs. Betty squinted at her. “You’re fancy ‘cause I said so.” She pulled a tray of biscuits from the stove and slammed shut the cast iron door. “You’d better not let Mrs. Downs catch you in here. I don’t need no unfortunates gallivanting through my casseroles and swiping pies.”

  Darla gave the cookie dough one last, lingering look. “I promise I won’t touch anything.”

  Patience patted Mrs. Betty’s large, capable arm. “Mama, please don’t tell Mrs. Downs. It’s a surprise. For the orphans.”

  “Hmmph.” Mrs. Betty dumped the biscuits on a plate.

  The smell wafted into Darla’s senses and made her mouth water.

  “You won’t catch me being a tattle-tale,” Mrs. Betty continued. “But it’s gonna get you into hot water if you try to change any part of that hoity-toity banquet. Believe you me.”

  Goodness, all we want to do is cut out a few paper stars. Darla shook her head and followed Patience through a small door and into a narrow room full of shelves and boxes. The little girl stopped to select a lantern from a row on the shelf. After lighting the wick, she went into yet another room. At first, Darla thought they were in a cupboard, but it had no shelves this time. It must be a hallway. She tried to retrace their steps and figure out where they were in the house, but she would have been hopelessly lost if it weren’t for Patience.

  The girl paused at a set of narrow doors. “Right through here,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Mrs. Downs said I could share a room with my Mama, but when I found out this larder wasn’t being used anymore, I asked if I could have it for my own and Mrs. Downs said yes.” Ducking her head down, she smiled. “I’d never had anything all my own before.”

  She pulled open the door.

  It was a squeeze pushing Darla’s skirts and petticoats through the entry way, but at last she made it inside.

  Patience set down her lantern on a small table. Everywhere the light touched, colors blazed. The small cot was covered in a crazy quilt, pieced together from fabrics of every color and texture. And the walls . . . Darla lifted the lantern high for a closer look. The walls were covered with bits of paper, scraps of tin beaten into diamonds and hearts, newspaper and catalogue pages. Some were painted over with bright designs of butterflies and flowers and ladies dancing.