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

by Angela Castillo

  Darla stared at him. She’d had no idea he could play. Stands to reason. He makes lovely carvings with wood, why not have the ability to create music as well?

  The first slide of the bow across the strings brought notes sweet and clear, which strung together into an old carol. Songs tumbled from the instrument, one after the other.

  During the music, Darla found herself longing to climb into the fiddle and float away on the melody, to become part of the song. She inched closer and closer to Ethan, until she was right beside him. If only I could rest my head on his shoulder.

  Her eyes met Samantha Bugle’s chilly stare, and she stopped short. She was almost tempted to check her heart and make sure it was still beating. Recovering, she returned the glare with a cool gaze. I’m pretty sure he likes me better than you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

  As the last note from the fiddle died away, the children’s eyes began to droop and a few of them rested against the walls or shoulders.

  Ethan smiled down on them. “Just one more, and then you may all go to bed.” He lifted the instrument again. Everyone, even Samantha, joined in to sing the beautiful song.

  What child is this?

  Who laid to rest,

  on Mary’s lap is sleeping?

  Darla’s lips trembled as she sang, and the melody sent shivers up her spine. She caught Ethan’s eye, and he winked at her over his fiddle.

  On the walk home from the orphanage under the twinkling stars, Ethan came to walk beside her. He pressed something in her hand. The moonlight revealed the little wooden rose, polished and perfect.

  “Oh, thank you,” she whispered. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I didn’t forget.” His smile shone from beneath the brim of his hat.

  Darla’s fingers trembled; she wanted to hold his hand so badly. Instead she clenched her fists and shoved them into the pockets of her pinafore.

  It had been the best Christmas of her entire life.

  8 ILLNESS

  Snow came in late January, normal for north Texas. Darla paused on her way to feed the pigs to watch an early calf frolic in the cold flurry. Sun sparkled on the white blanket that covered the house, grounds and outbuildings.

  “Now I want to lie down and make a snow angel,” she said to Lisbeth, and Indigo, who passed by carrying pails and bundles.

  “Too cold,” said Indigo with a frown.

  “Yep. Don’t get any notions in your head,” Lisbeth said. “You’ll catch a chill, like Ethan.”

  “Ethan’s sick?” Darla hadn’t heard the news. True, she hadn’t seen Ethan around the house, but she’d just assumed he was busy elsewhere.

  “Yes. Nothing serious. Ma Downs doesn’t want to call for a doctor just yet, but she made him go home and rest.” Lisbeth held up her pail. “We’re taking him some soup. Ma Downs always has us ladies go to his house in pairs . . . proprieties’ sake and all.”

  I’ve never seen his house. Darla knew Ethan lived in a little cabin out in the back acreage, but she’d never had an excuse to go there. She was seized by a sudden desire to peek inside and learn more about this quiet, kind man who’d taken her fancy. Plus, I want to see how sick he is for myself. I hope it truly is nothing serious.

  “Indigo, would you mind taking this to the pigs for me?” she coaxed. “I want to check on Ethan. Please?”

  Indigo’s face clouded, her scar darkening like it always did when she was upset. “Why?”

  “Well . . . because I want to see his house. I never have. Please, Indigo?”

  Indigo shook her head. “Dirty.”

  “Oh, come on Indigo. If you let me go, I’ll . . .”

  “How about she feeds the pigs for a week when it’s your turn?” Lisbeth said.

  “Fine.” Indigo snatched the slop bucket away from Darla and shoved her bundle into Darla’s hands. She turned and shuffled off in the direction of the pigpen.

  “Goodness, I didn’t realize she hated pigs so much.” A few drops of slop had landed on Darla’s hand in the exchange, and she rubbed her skin with snow to clean it.

  “It’s not just the pigs . . . she doesn’t like changes.” Lisbeth started down a little path that led behind the barn to a thick stand of trees in the back of the property. “Even the tiniest difference can upset her. It’s just the way she is.”

  “Oh. Well, I didn’t mean to make her mad.” Darla paused for a moment to stare at the tree branches dripping with icicles. The forest had been transformed into a fairy palace. She hoped Ethan would be well enough to come see it. “I’ve always wondered . . . how did she get that scar, anyway?”

  Lisbeth froze. “I’ve never asked. You know she doesn’t talk much anyway. Ma Downs told me she found her in the poorhouse. It must have been right after it happened. She was curled up in the corner with a dirty rag wrapped ‘round her face. Wouldn’t let a doctor touch her, even though the folks at the poorhouse tried. Somehow, Ma Downs got her home and convinced her that she could be trusted. The wound turned septic and Indigo almost died. I can’t imagine how painful it must have been. But she pulled through.”

  Darla shuddered and touched her own face. “How terrible.” Suddenly the bumps and bruises Darla had received over the years seemed paltry. She resolved in her heart to be more patient with Indigo, whose strange habits could be frustrating sometimes.

  The cabin was nestled in a small grove of evergreen trees. Their bright needles peeped through the snow. Smoke puffed from the chimney, and a fresh set of tracks ran from the door to the woodpile and back again.

  “He’s not dead, anyway,” Lisbeth muttered. She gave Darla her pixie smile.

  “I should hope not!” Darla knocked on the thick door which had been fashioned from split logs and hung with giant hinges that looked as though they’d come from the door of a railroad car.

  “Come in.” Ethan’s voice drifted through the wall.

  He doesn’t sound very good. Darla took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  A cloud of warmth beckoned them in to the tiny room. A cozy fire crackled merrily in the stone fireplace, and the flame from a lantern’s tiny wick danced and flickered in its globe. Ethan’s old fiddle gleamed from a place of honor on an ornately carved mantel that seemed far too grand for the room. Wood carvings had been placed all over the room, animals and flowers and trees, each one more beautiful than the last.

  “Hello,” Ethan said in a shaky voice. He was propped up in a bed in the corner, his normally tanned cheeks pale and hollow. His curls were plastered to his forehead, and he brushed his hand through them and straightened his shoulders. “Hey, Darla, I didn’t know you were coming to see me.”

  “Of course I came.” Darla rushed to his side and reached behind to fluff the flattened pillow behind him. The thick cotton was drenched in sweat. “Oh, looks like you’ve been running a fever.”

  “We brought you some soup.” Lisbeth placed the pail on a stool nearby and pried the loaf of bread away from Darla, who still had it tucked tightly beneath her arm. “And I saw those tracks. Ethan Downs, you had no business going out in the snow!”

  “Eh.” Ethan waved off the words with a trembling hand. “I’m doing much better now. Should’ve seen me yesterday. Couldn’t even get out of bed. The fire was going down. I couldn’t let it go out, could I?”

  “You knew very well we were coming over to check on you. Wait next time,” Lisbeth scolded.

  Without thinking, Darla laid the back of her hand against Ethan’s forehead. “You do feel hot. She’s right. You shouldn’t be outside.”

  Ethan closed his eyes. “Your hand is cool. It feels nice.”

  Darla’s face grew hot and she drew her hand back. She looked over at Lisbeth. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see . . .”

  Lisbeth raised her eyebrows. “He does look better than yesterday. Still, we’ll have to set up a watch if he’s going to be trying to traipse off out in the cold. I need to tell Ma Downs. Can I leave you here for a few moments?”

  “I’l
l take care of him,” Darla promised.

  “Uh huh. I’m sure you will.” Lisbeth slammed the door behind her.

  Ethan lowered back on the bed. “Thanks for staying with me. I know everyone has work to do, and more of it since I haven’t been able to pull my weight. But it’s been lonely out here.”

  “How long have you been sick?”

  “I don’t know. What’s today? Ma sent me to bed on Sunday.”

  “You’ve been sick for three days? Oh, Ethan, I’m sorry. No one told me, or I would have figured out a way to check on you sooner.”

  His dry lips cracked into a smile. “I just bet you would have.”

  A jug of water stood nearby, and Darla poured some into a cup and held it for him.

  He managed a few swallows. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re an angel, you know that? A golden-haired, blue-eyed angel.” His eyes were half-closed, his voice soft.

  Darla bit back a snort of laughter. An angel from a saloon? Not likely. “You’re sweet to say so.”

  “I know so.” Ethan leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Poor man. Oh, I hope he gets better soon. Darla’s mind raced. She’d seen her share of sick folks. One saloon girl had passed away from a fever while Darla was holding her hand. Surely Ma Downs will know if something more should be done.

  She stood and walked over to a shelf on the wall. Leaning forward, she studied some of the carvings there, almost afraid to breathe lest she knock over a delicate figure and cause irreparable damage.

  An elephant and a tiger shared space with a pig and a giraffe. They were all made from the same dark, coarse wood, and these figures were more crudely fashioned than the other work she had seen from Ethan.

  “Those are some of my earliest carvings,” Ethan said from the bed. “My brother gave me my first pocket knife when I was eight, and I carved up everything I could get my hands on. Got me into all kinds of trouble.” He gave a weak chuckle, which ended in a coughing fit.

  Darla hurried back over. “Please don’t try to talk too much, you really should rest.”

  “Can you do something for me?”

  “Of course, Ethan.”

  “Will you sing?”

  “You might not like my voice.”

  Ethan rolled over to face the wall so all she saw was his curly hair peeping from beneath the quilt. “I bet I will. I hear you in church, you know.”

  Darla began on the first song that rose to her mind, an old hymn her father used to sing.

  “Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands,

  Robed in the blooming garb of spring;

  Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,

  Who makes the woeful heart to sing.”

  “Wish I could play my fiddle,” Ethan murmured.

  “Me too,” said Darla.

  She went on with the next part.

  “Fair is the sunshine,

  Fairer still the moonlight,

  And all the twinkling starry host;

  Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer

  Than all the angels heaven can boast.”

  The door burst open, and Ma Downs bustled in, carrying an armload of blankets. Mrs. Betty followed, lugging a small skillet with round stones inside.

  Ethan turned over and blinked. “Hey, Ma.”

  “Miss North, I thank you for staying with my son since he seems intent on catching his death,” Ma Downs glared at Ethan. “But it’s hardly proper for you to be here alone.”

  “I—I’m sorry. We didn’t know what else to do,” said Darla.

  “You could have come in with Lisbeth,” said Ma Downs. “What if the benefactors find out? They’ll accuse us of running a house of ill-repute.”

  Darla’s heart pounded in her chest. “I was just watching him so he wouldn’t go outside again. Didn’t Lisbeth tell you?”

  “Can’t the sick fetch a little firewood?” Ethan protested. “I’m much better today, Ma.”

  Ma Downs put her hands on her hips. “You do look better,” she admitted. “But if I catch you outside again . . . I’ll . . .”

  “I’d give him a hiding like I used to, if he weren’t a grown man now,” said Mrs. Betty.

  Ma Downs turned to Darla. “Go on home now. We’ll let you know if we need anything else. And I don’t want you or any of the other girls out here again. Mrs. Betty and I will bring out anything he needs from now on.”

  Darla sighed. “Get better,” she whispered to Ethan.

  “Of course I will.”

  9 A DAY AT THE FAIR

  “You’ll go with me, won’t you?”

  Darla jumped. “Jehosaphat! Ethan, you gave me a fright!” She fluttered earth-covered fingers before her face.

  “Sorry.” He knelt down beside her to examine the neatly sown rows of carrots she’d been planting. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Since after breakfast. I should be finished with these carrots by lunch time, especially if I have some help.” Ever since Ethan’s illness, Darla had stopped trying to ignore the sweetness smoldering between them, though neither one had acknowledged their feelings in words. And I’m fine with this. I’m happy with the way things are, she reminded herself.

  The last thing Darla wanted was to lose the trust she had worked so hard to build with Ma Downs. And Darla hadn’t missed the woman’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips every time she caught the two of them flirting.

  Ethan wiped off his hands. “Sorry, I can’t stay long. I just came by to ask if you’d decided to come with me today.” His chin was covered in stubble, and again she fought the urge to run her finger along his face while he talked. But I’m not that kind of woman anymore. I’m fine. Fine. She clenched the packet of seeds so tightly it burst, and a shower of carrot seeds flew into the air.

  “Oh goodness, look what I’ve done!” She tried to scoop the tiny seeds back into the packet.

  Ethan laughed and helped her scoop up the mess. “We’ll just have a big batch of carrots in one place. People will come for miles to see the giant mystery clump. They’ll wonder why some farmer decided to plant so many in one spot.”

  “Oh stop . . .” Darla went into a gale of laughter, leaning against the fence. She wiped her eyes and looked up. Ethan was staring at her, eyes softened, his lips curled into a smile.

  He cares for me more than I thought. The realization hit her like a wagon load of rocks. She turned away, pretending to focus on covering the scattered seeds with dirt. But he couldn’t love me if he knew. She wiped dirt from her fingers. It’s wicked of me to deceive him . . . but I can’t let him find out the truth, he might tell Ma Downs and then I’d be out of here in two shakes of a rattler’s tail. No matter what she said before, I know she wouldn’t want a saloon girl in her house. Or flirting with her son. Where would she go? She’d learned so much here, and helped so many people.

  “Hello.” A tan hand waved in front of her eyes. “Is Princess Darla off in Dreamland?” Ethan tipped his head to the side.

  “Oh.” Darla blinked. “I’m sorry. You were asking me a question, weren’t you? You wanted me to go somewhere with you?” Her shoulders sagged. “Did the cow get bogged down in the pond again?”

  “No, silly. Don’t you remember? I told you about the little fair in town, a mile away. It’s a bit soggy still. I’ll never understand why they plan these things in March--but I bet we’ll have fun anyway.” Ethan rested his chin on folded hands. “Please say you’ll go with me.”

  Darla bit her lip. “But what about your ma? Will she let me have the day off?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Darla, you’ve been working yourself to death ever since you arrived here. We all work hard. Everyone deserves a break every once in awhile, don’t you think?”

  She opened her mouth, and the protest must have reached her eyes because he held up a hand.

  “Don’t worry about Ma. I’ll see if I can convince her to give half the girls a few hours off today, and the other three can go t
omorrow. She knows young ladies need some fun. After all, she was young once,” he said with a hint of doubt in his tone. He leaned closer, and Darla breathed in the sawdust-honey scent that was all his own. “Come on, Darla.”

  We’re here and now. Who knows where I’ll be in the next month? Or even a week. “Of course I’ll come. How could I say no to the most handsome man in town?”

  His eyes widened, and a grin spread over his face. “All right, we’ll leave after lunch. Maybe the sun will have time to dry the worst puddles.”

  After he left, Darla finished with the carrots and went to the pump at the side of the house to wash her hands.

  Ethan’s voice floated over the porch railing. “Ma, some of the ladies have been asking for a half day, and I thought today might be good for it.”

  Darla heard a sigh. “Don’t we need to get the back pasture cleared?”

  “The pasture isn’t going anywhere. Everyone’s been working so hard with planting. They need a break. Let them go.”

  “I suppose you’re right, son. I’ll let Indigo, Mrs. Brodie and Darla go today, and everyone else can go tomorrow. I simply cannot spare them all at once.”

  Darla ducked in the side door before anyone could find her eavesdropping. She was disappointed Lisbeth couldn’t come with them to the fair. I’ll bring a few pennies and buy her a trinket.

  Attempts to contain her excitement through lunch proved successful, all except for one foot that would tap the floor in a brisk rhythm no matter how many times she stilled it. Lisbeth raised her eyebrows at her a few times, but no one else seemed to notice.

  After the meal, Darla hastened upstairs and looked over her few possessions.

  She’d used some of the money from Soonie’s five-dollar gold piece to buy items of clothing that fit, decent under things, and hair ribbons for church. Her favorite purchase was a smart little hat, with black feathers and an artificial flower on the top. She pushed a hat pin through the velvet surface to make sure the hat wouldn’t be lost in an errant wind and pinched her cheeks. Narrowing her eyes in the mirror, she sighed. This will have to do. Any more fancy primping and someone will get suspicious.