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

by Angela Castillo

  “Patience, this is beautiful. Did you do all of this yourself?”

  Patience nodded. “All except for the quilt. Lisbeth helped me make it.” She pulled a small wooden box from beneath the cot and began to rummage through it. “These are nice.” The little girl held up bright sheets of tissue. “We could twist these into flowers, maybe.”

  “Flowers? That would be lovely.”

  “And perhaps we could cut out paper chains from this. They’re only printed words, but they might be nice.” Patience fanned through sheets of newspaper.

  “It’s hard to believe you’re only twelve. You have so many wonderful ideas,” said Darla. “And your paintings are good as most I’ve seen by grown folks.”

  “You think so?” Patience cupped her chin in her hands. “I don’t have much time for them, but my head aches if I can’t paint sometimes.”

  “It must be what you were born to do,” Darla declared, piling the papers back into the box. “My daddy always said God has a purpose for each one of us.”

  Patience frowned. “That would be nice, Miss Darla, but most folks aren’t going to give two pennies for a colored girl’s paintings.”

  Darla sighed. She wished she could argue, but in her heart she knew it was true. “Well, it’s just horrible,” she finally said. “People wouldn’t know good sense if it slapped them in the face.”

  “Anyway,” Patience said brightly, “at least we can make a nice Christmas for the orphans.”

  “I have some white tissue upstairs. We’ll cut snowflakes from that,” Darla continued. “The girls at the sa-- the place I used to live showed me how.”

  “It will look like Heaven and fairyland all rolled into one,” said Patience, with a wistful smile.

  “Oh, no.” Darla reached for her hand. “You won’t get to come, will you?”

  “No.” Patience stared down at the table. “Mama always says I’m too young.”

  “Well, perhaps this year will be different.” Darla traced the petals of a bright flower painted over a soap advertisement. “I could use your help to make sure everything turns out perfectly.”

  Patience beamed. “That would be nice.”

  Darla’s stomach growled loudly. “You think your mama might spare one of those biscuits?” she whispered.

  “She just might,” Patience whispered back.

  The little girl picked up the lantern, and Darla followed her back through the tiny, dark hallway and into the warm kitchen.

  Warm, golden biscuits were stacked in a bowl. Darla reached for one, but Mrs. Betty’s wooden spoon smacked down on her hand before she could close her fingers around the treat.

  “Ow!” Darla put her finger in her mouth.

  “Ow is right.” Mrs. Betty shook her spoon. “You’ll get some at supper time, same as everyone else. Now you two skeedaddle out of my kitchen.”

  The door creaked open behind them. The light scent of sawdust and pine filled Darla’s senses as Ethan leaned over the counter in front of her. He’d come in from the kitchen porch and hadn’t bothered to take off the long, leather duster he’d started wearing ever since the weather cooled.

  “Don’t mind me, ladies, just came in to wash up in here where it’s warm.” He pumped the handle up and down a few times until a thin stream of water ran into the sink.

  “Aw, we never mind you, Mr. Ethan.” Mrs. Betty reached over to pinch Ethan’s cheek, a gesture so absurd on the chiseled face that Darla had to stifle a giggle. “He’s been coming in this kitchen since before he wore breeches, haven’t you?”

  “Sure, I have.” Ethan dried his hands on a flour sack hanging on a nail and reached for a biscuit. “Mind if I take one of these, Mrs. Betty?”

  Darla’s eyes followed the spoon as it settled peacefully back into the bowl of batter.

  Mrs. Betty smiled. “Of course not, dear. You need your strength. You work so hard out there.”

  Ethan grabbed a roll and twitched it behind his back where Mrs. Betty couldn’t see.

  Darla snatched the biscuit and hid it in her apron pocket. The bread warmed her skin through the material.

  Giving the girls a wink, Ethan nodded to Mrs. Betty. “All right, ladies, we better get out of the kitchen so this talented woman here can finish up with the food.”

  Darla flashed him her brightest smile. “I’ll see you at supper. I’d better go check on my decorating committee.”

  She left the kitchen and stopped in the dog trot to eat her purloined biscuit. The crumbs melted as soon as they touched her tongue. Mrs. Betty could make even the simplest fare taste like magic.

  “Oh, there you are!” Lisbeth called from the door.

  Darla brushed a few crumbs from her face, along with, she hoped, her guilty expression. She turned to see not only Lisbeth, but Ma Downs enter the dogtrot.

  “Hello,” said Darla. “I was just coming in to check on the wreaths.”

  “Yes, we’re almost finished.” Lisbeth turned back towards the parlor entrance.

  A furry head poked out from beneath Lisbeth’s shawl.

  Danny? Darla drew a sharp breath and darted a glance at Ma Downs, who stopped to examine the wall.

  “Lisbeth, come here at once.” Ma Downs’ voice had a steel edge to it.

  Lisbeth moved past Darla, who fought the urge to grab Danny and run off in the opposite direction to prevent his discovery. However, she wasn’t quite sure what the creature would do to her if she laid sudden hands on him, so she chose instead to send up a quick prayer that perhaps the animal had not been detected.

  She ducked her head and passed the ladies to enter the parlor door.

  “Lisbeth, tell me, does this paneling look rotted to you?” The words floated after Darla, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t think so,” came Lisbeth’s response. “But perhaps Ethan should look at it.”

  “Fine. Now would you please go take that animal back to your room? I don’t want him loose in the halls.”

  Darla’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. Can’t get anything past that woman. She probably knew about Danny from the day Lisbeth found him.

  7 CHRISTMAS

  Musty air wafted out from the Chadwick Orphanage dining hall as Darla, Indigo, Lisbeth and the Pennel sisters arrived, their arms full of boxes and bundles.

  Four long tables, lined with rough, serviceable chairs, sat in rows through the large room. A dirty window at the end of the room was the only source of light.

  How can they even see to eat? If it was anything like the orphanage Darla had grown up in, the children wouldn’t have much light from candles or lanterns either. Of course, light had only made it easier to see weevils crawling in the bread. God, thank you I don’t have to live in a place like this anymore. She glanced at the sisters. Their eyes were wide, and for once they weren’t giggling. That’s right. They also grew up in an orphanage.

  “What a dismal place,” Lisbeth murmured as she unpacked a bundle of wreaths.

  “Yes, but we’ll brighten it up.” Darla said in the most cheerful tone she could muster. “When I lived in an orphanage, we never had a special meal for Christmas or any time.”

  In the orphanage, the only indication of Christmas was the carols they sang at church. The nuns who ran the orphanage would hurry them through the streets, not allowing the children to even stop and look in the store windows. Sudden tears pricked Darla’s eyes.

  Work at Downs House wasn’t easy, but she loved the chance to serve people in need. Not lonely cowboys who probably had faithful wives waiting for them at home, but people who were starved for love and care.

  She put the packages down on the nearest table. “Are any of the workers here going to help us?” she asked Indigo.

  “No.” Indigo’s eyes traveled over the walls and floor. “Dirty.”

  “They’re too busy herding children.” Lisbeth twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I wish we had time to scrub the place down, but at least we can take a few minutes to clean the worst o
f it. No sense planting roses in a pigsty.”

  The women cleaned the window, dusted the tables and swept out the room with a bedraggled broom Marnie found in the corner.

  “Girls, we’ll have to hurry if we want to get all these pretties up before the children arrive.” Darla pulled out a handful of tissue snowflakes, almost as fragile as the real things.

  Lisbeth stared at the snowflakes. “I still don’t know if we should put up all the decorations, Darla. You’ve only been here a short time. You haven’t seen what it’s like when the benefactors come on an inspection.”

  Darla sighed. “If we get in trouble, I’ll take the blame. All right?” She surveyed the other women’s faces.

  “It would have been nice if someone had made a special Christmas for us, just once.” Sadie picked up a snowflake. “Darla, where would you like to hang these?”

  “Hmmm . . .” Darla turned, studying the room. “Perhaps we could string them up over here.” She ran to the side wall, where paintings of past benefactors glared down at them.

  “I’ll get started.” Sadie grabbed a chair from a table and climbed up to string the decorations.

  “Marnie and Lisbeth, should we have four candles per table, or two?” asked Darla.

  Marnie drummed her finger against a plump cheek. “I don’t know. What do you think, Lisbeth?”

  Lisbeth tossed her hair. “All I know is Ma Downs will have a living fit when she finds out you’re wasting perfectly good candles.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Darla protested. “Patience found them at the back of the tool shed. They’d been there for years. Ethan said it was a wonder that mice hadn’t gotten them. I think it was truly fortunate.” She took a deep breath. Would the benefactors really make a fuss over a few candles?

  Ethan pushed through the door carrying a lovely little evergreen tree they’d found in the woods behind the cow pasture. “Where would you like this to go, ma’am?” he asked Darla. “Whew! These needles are sharp!”

  “Right there in the corner, please, sir.” Darla waved to the spot. “And do you think you could set it up for us?”

  “Anything for you.”

  A knowing look passed between Marnie and Sadie, and they went into a fit of giggles.

  Darla’s cheeks grew warm, but she squared her shoulders and continued to hang snowflakes. So he has a little crush on me. It’s nothing but a bit of harmless fun. Not that I mind getting attention from a man with good morals for once.

  A cry of dismay from Indigo interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see her struggling with a tangled popcorn string.

  “I’m coming.” Darla rushed over and picked at the string until it came free, with only a few snowy kernels lost.

  An hour later, Darla surveyed the room with satisfaction. Colorful paper chains draped over the tree’s branches, along with strings of popcorn. Evergreen wreaths lined the room, chasing away the scent of mold and must. Tin-can stars, polished until they shone like costly silver, dripped from the wreaths. Candles blazed on the tables, and a gleaming round orange had been placed beside each plate.

  Lisbeth and Indigo stood silent with shining eyes.

  Sadie clasped her hands and said, “Isn’t it wonderful? It’s all so wonderful!”

  Ethan surveyed the room. “It’s the best it’s ever been.” He caught Darla’s eye. “You did a great job.’

  Darla’s smile hurt her cheeks. “We all worked together. It wasn’t just me.”

  “But you had the best ideas,” said Lisbeth.

  A knock came at the door, and Ethan went to open it.

  A middle-aged couple Darla was sure she recognized entered the room. Following them was a woman wearing a very stiff black crepe dress with puffed sleeves that almost brushed her ears and a starched collar. Ma Downs came in behind her. Last in was a young woman with snapping eyes and brown curls that settled like sausages on her shoulders.

  Oh yes, how could I forget? Darla’s shoulders sagged. Samantha Bugle. The Bugles were benefactors. Of course they would attend the supper.

  “May I take your coats?” Lisbeth stepped forward.

  Samantha shrugged off her mink coat to reveal a stunning cranberry velvet gown. She handed her coat to Lisbeth without a word of thanks.

  Darla looked down at her own shapeless dress, suddenly conscious of how very dirty and disheveled she must look after the afternoon’s work.

  “Hello, ladies, we have come to see your progress,” said Ma Downs. “Most of you have met Mr. and Mrs. Bugle, and this is Miss Comfort, the orphanage director.”

  “And I’m Samantha Bugle,” the young woman said, her eyes fixed on Darla.

  Darla supposed she was addressing her, but the girl swept up to Ethan and held out a gloved hand. “How are you this evening, Mr. Downs?”

  Ethan stared at the offered hand and finally shook it with limp fingers. “I’m fine, Miss Bugle.”

  “Oh!” came from Ma Downs. She stood as if rooted to the floor, staring at the Christmas finery around her.

  Darla tore her eyes away from Samantha, who she had privately labeled ‘the snoot’ and went to stand by Ma Downs. “We just now finished with the decorations. Do you like it?”

  Ma Downs continued to stare, her eyes widening. “Why, Darla, it’s just . . . just . . .”

  “Preposterous,” Mr. Bugle broke in, waving a black cane topped with a brass knob. “How much money was wasted on all this frippery? Those coppers should have been spent on food, or clothes.”

  “Absolutely right, Daddy.” Samantha adjusted her gloves. “After all, orphans shouldn’t have things too nice. They might start expecting more handouts.”

  “If this is the way the hard-earned money of Downs House benefactors is being spent, perhaps it should be better placed,” Mr. Bugle said to his wife, a plump woman with clouds of white hair who had yet to speak.

  Darla caught a knowing glance from Lisbeth and sucked in a breath. Should she even try to argue? They hadn’t spent a cent of money on decorations, just time and hard work. And the Bugles haven’t even seen the gifts by the tree.

  Ethan moved to her side. “If I may have a word, Mr. Bugle.” He spoke in an even tone, but his fists were clenched by his sides.

  Ma Downs stretched out a trembling hand towards her son. “Yes, Ethan, could you please explain?”

  Darla had never seen her with such lost composure, even the other day with Reverend Martin.

  “Mr. Bugle.” Ethan swept his arm out. “Every decoration here was hand-made by these ladies, including the gifts under the tree. The supplies came from odds and ends destined for the trash barrel, and even from the woods. The only thing purchased was a ball of twine to hang things, and I used my own funds for that.”

  “Even so,” Mr. Bugle blustered, “these are orphans. They must learn that life isn’t all about gumdrops and rainbows.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” Samantha purred, “If Ethan’s in charge, it must be all right.” She gave Ethan a simpering smile that made Darla’s stomach clench.

  Miss Comfort, whom Darla had almost forgotten, moved out from behind Mrs. Bugle and took Darla’s hand. “It looks lovely,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “The children will be so delighted. How can I ever thank you?” A tear gleamed in the corner of her eye.

  “I was an orphan myself, and all of us ladies have been through hard times,” said Darla. “It was our pleasure.” She gave a defiant glance at Samantha, who pursed her lips and looked as though she was tempted to stick out her tongue.

  Ma Downs stood a little straighter and went to the door. “Well, Ms. Comfort, there are two dozen hungry children waiting outside. Should we call them in for supper?”

  The boys entered first, shoulders squared, standing tall like soldiers. The little girls followed them, walking in dignified grace. Despite their effort, tiny squeals escaped from their lips as they saw the beautiful decorations.

  I don’t care. I don’t care if I get thrown out on the street for this. Darla decided. It was w
orth it. And suddenly she felt a stirring in her heart that had never been there before. I have a purpose. I am useful in this world, and God has a calling for me. Despite my past. He has truly forgiven me.

  She was tempted to kneel down right there on the floor and thank God for His goodness and mercy, but she didn’t think it would go over well with the Bugles.

  Behind the parade of orphans came Mrs. Betty, carrying a large covered skillet, and with her, Patience.

  “You came!” Darla ran to her and took one of the baskets hanging from the little girl’s arm.

  “Yes.” Patience’s big brown eyes shone in the candlelight. ‘Mama said I was old enough this year.” She sat her load on the table. “And look at these.” Pulling out a small parcel from a basket, she revealed four cloth butterflies, painted with brilliant colors. “Cut them from a flour sack this afternoon.”

  Darla clasped her hands. “How lovely! Let’s hang them from the tree.”

  After the little girls and boys ate every crumb of the simple but delicious supper, everyone gathered around the Christmas tree. The presents were passed out, and sounds of tearing paper and shrieks of joy filled the banquet hall. The dolls were tiny masterpieces, each with two hand-sewn dresses created by Lisbeth. The boys’ wooden whistles had been painted by Patience.

  After the presents were opened, Mr. Bugle gave in to the spirit of the day long enough to read the story of Christ’s birth from the Bible and even led a warbling version of ‘Oh Come, All Ye Faithful.”

  Where did Ethan go? He’d been by Darla’s side a moment ago. She scanned the faces. Her eyes rested on Samantha’s scowl. At least she’s not with him. Darla North, you’re acting like a school girl.

  The door opened, and Ethan came in with a battered fiddle. He held it up and everyone clapped and cheered.