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

by Angela Castillo

  He looked so much like a pouting little boy that Darla had to laugh. “Next time,” she promised.

  As they rounded the gate and started down the road, she listened for the sound of feet scuffling behind them. No one. Breathing a sigh of relief, she wrapped her fingers around Ethan’s arm.

  “Is everything all right?” He glanced down at her. “Please don’t fret about Ma. She gets in a frazzle about money and the benefactors and the state of the house. I keep telling her to trust in God, but she worries still. If she’s out of sorts, it’s because of all the other things.”

  I’m sure she’d be even more ‘out of sorts’ if she knew her son had taken an unfortunate to the fair. I’d bet she’d have a fit of vapors if she found out I was a former saloon girl.

  As they reached home, Darla pressed her fingers against her forehead. “I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’ll go lie down in my room until supper.”

  “You aren’t ill, are you?”

  No, no. I’m fine.” She patted his arm. “I had a really nice time today. At least until Samantha Bugle came along.”

  Ethan’s lips curled into a slow smile. “Don’t be too mean. After all, she is a dear family friend.”

  He reached over, faster than she could blink, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he strode through the front gate and off to the direction of the barn.

  Her fingers caressed the place where the kiss had fallen. On to the house she went, fighting the urge to skip up the front steps like a little girl.

  11 A FATEFUL NIGHT

  “Home already?”

  Darla’s fingers stopped, stretched towards the banister. She pulled them back and put her hands in her pockets. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned to face Ma Downs. “I was feeling a bit chilled.” Oh dear. She must have found out about Ethan taking me to the fair. This is it. She’ll ask me to leave for sure. A glimpse of her own reflection in a mirror over the woman’s shoulder showed her white, frightened face.

  “Darla, will you please come into my study?”

  She bowed her head and followed Ma Downs into the small room, complete with bookshelves stuffed with books and a roll-top desk with mountains of papers.

  Ma Downs indicated a chair. “I wanted to discuss something with you.”

  Sitting down hard, Darla held still, hardly daring to breathe.

  The feathers on the eternal black hat drooped almost to the desk as Ma Downs bent to look at a paper. “I’ve had so many letters to write. Patrons tend to forget their promises in the winter months.” She glanced up, frowning. “My father never begged for help, no matter how lean it got. Many times, I saw my breakfast ride away in the back of the poor folk’s wagon. My father always said we’d have treasures in Heaven. But that’s a hard thing for a five-year-old to understand when hunger’s gnawing at her belly.”

  Darla inhaled sharply, but didn’t reply. Ma Downs wasn’t lying when she said she’s had her share of tough times.

  “My father was too proud to ask for help, and my mother was too proud to sell any of the furniture or art from our family home. In the end, I’ve had to do both, and I don’t regret either.”

  Confusion pooled in Darla’s mind. If she’s asking me to leave, why can’t she get to it? She squirmed in her chair.

  “Providing help to women in need has been the most rewarding part of my life, besides raising my boys. Darla, I am happy to tell you your trial at Downs House is finished. You have proven to be a hard worker, and I see you truly want to follow God’s will, even though there might be some hiccups along the way. You may stay here as long as you wish.”

  Unable to stop the gusty sigh of relief, Darla sank back into her chair. “Thank you so much. I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

  Ma Downs held out a gloved hand. “I’m sure you will.” She stared deep into Darla’s eyes. “Don’t break his heart, Darla.”

  Even as Darla grasped the woman’s hand, a thought sped through her mind like a Texas tornado. This is the moment. I’ve got to make sure she knows about my past. But her lips stuck together, and the words would not come. She stood up and left the room, feeling as though Ma Downs’s eyes might bore into her soul.

  Darla didn’t see Ethan until after supper when she went outside to finish up the evening chores. His work boots stuck from under the wall beneath the kitchen window. When she peeked under the boards she saw one hand draped across his mid-section. The other was somewhere up under the floor, employing a hammer for some repair.

  What strong, capable hands. A tiny sigh escaped Darla’s lips.

  Ethan scooted out and sat up, dirt and bits of grass sticking to his hair and face. “Hey there. Feeling better?” He looked her over, as though checking for signs of impending ailments.

  “Oh yes, much.” She smoothed her skirts and bent down to peer under the house. “What are you working on?”

  Reaching under the crawl space, Ethan pulled out a lantern. “These floor joists are almost rotted through in places. Very unsafe. I need to replace them somehow, but large pieces of timber are expensive. It might be even worse towards the center of the house, but I’d have to pull up the floor to find out.”

  He stood up, brushing off his clothes. “We don’t have any extra funds to spare right now. Even if I did all the work myself, we couldn’t afford the lumber.”

  “What about the benefactors?” asked Darla, picking a tiny leaf from Ethan’s sleeve.

  “Ma sent out more letters, but she isn’t expecting much. Times are tight right now, even for rich folks.”

  “Weren’t you just saying we need to stop worrying and trust in God?” Darla said. “Didn’t Reverend Martin say we should pray without ceasing last week?”

  Ethan nodded. “You’re right, Darla, I need to listen to my own advice.”

  “Things will work out, you just wait and see.” The giddy sensation brought on by Ma’s earlier announcement still filled Darla’s head. “I’d better get going. I was on my way to close up the chicken coop. See you in the morning.” Darla flounced off in the direction of the barn.

  She poked her head inside the small, triangle-shaped building to make sure the hens were all in for the night. Settled bundles of feathers poked out from nesting boxes.

  After latching the door, Darla went to the gazebo, which had become her regular place to pray and think. She sank down on the wooden bench, listening to the coos and clucks through the coop wall while the chickens said their goodnights.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined herself back on her dad’s farm. Her mother had passed away when she was three. Since her father had little time for anything but the farm, he’d dressed her in overalls and cut her hair short to keep away bugs. She had followed him everywhere. I would have been there still, if he hadn’t died. We’d be running the farm together. She brushed away a sudden tear. Difficult as chores had been these past few months, they held unexpected joy. Every smell and sound brought back memories of a safe home and her loving father.

  She left the gazebo, but paused when she passed the coop door. “Good night, you crazy biddies.”

  “Darla?” a rough voice called from the street.

  “Jethro?” Darla’s lips trembled so much she could barely form the words. “What are you doing here?”

  Trees sent jagged shadows over the front gate where Jethro stood. “Hey, girl, I tracked you down! Couldn’t let a pretty thing like you slip through the cracks.” He tipped his hat back and grinned. “What are you doing in a dismal place like this, anyhow?” His words slurred, and he struggled to focus on her face.

  “You should get to wherever you’re staying and sleep off that whiskey.” Her eyes darted around the yard, checking for members of the house. “Please leave me alone. I don’t want to speak to you.”

  “Come on, sweetie.” Jethro leaned over the rough wooden slats. “I’ll show you a good time. I know you missed me.”

  “Go away,” Darla hissed. “I left that life behind and I’m not going back.”

  “What?
Darla, you were the purtiest girl in the saloon. The fellows talk about you all the time.”

  Rocks crunched behind her, and Ethan moved to her side. Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh, Ethan. Please make him leave.”

  “You heard the lady.” Ethan stepped in front of her, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. “This is a safe house. Move on now.”

  Jethro gave a short laugh. “Wasn’t long ago, this girl asked for me, special. She always picked me to dance the hurdy-gurdies. Don’t you remember, Darla?”

  Ethan inhaled sharply. “Darla, you know this man?”

  Darla could bear it no longer. Clapping her hands over her face, she ran to the porch, through the door and up the stairs to her room. Lisbeth hadn’t come up yet. Where is she? I’m surprised everyone’s not outside hearing my life story from Jethro by now.

  Rushing to the window, she peeked at the two men, still staring each other down in the moonlight. Her breaths came in ragged gasps that fogged up the pane. She wiped it with her sleeve.

  The cowboy’s face had turned red. He was shouting something at Ethan, who looked ready to jump over the gate. Darla wished with all her heart she could open the window and hear what was being said, but the wooden frames stuck terribly, and would be sure to make noise loud enough for them to hear.

  A loud blast echoed through the walls. Ethan and Jethro both ducked down.

  Ma Downs appeared out by the gate, holding a shotgun.

  Jethro stood up slowly, his hands above his head. After he shouted something else Darla still couldn’t hear, he turned on his heel and walked away.

  Ethan and Ma Downs leaned over the gate and watched after him. After a long time, Ma Downs lowered the gun, and they both turned to look up at Darla’s window.

  She gasped and moved away from the curtains.

  What can I do, what can I do? Jethro must have told them. Her knees buckled, and she sat down hard on the bed. Well, that’s it. Tomorrow I’ll be thrown out of Downs House once and for all.

  She bit her lip until it stung. Getting thrown out of the house, she could endure. Ma’s disappointment would be hard to see, but she could handle it. The ladies would feel betrayed. But . . . Ethan. She couldn’t bear to picture the look on his face as she left in disgrace.

  Darla girl, time to think. She glanced at the door. Lisbeth would be up to bed any time now.

  The wagon she’d hid behind at the fair popped into her mind. Doctor Ebenezer’s Medical Marvels. That young boy was pretty convinced they’d take me on. Maybe I could clean the wagons for them or something. At least I wouldn’t starve.

  Darla pulled off her shoes and washed her face. Instead of putting on a nightgown, she changed into a day dress. She chose one she’d purchased, not one provided by Down’s House. She packed her few possessions in her carpet bag and shoved them under the bed.

  A hot tear slid down her cheek as she got under the covers and pulled them tightly under her chin. How could you think you’d make it here? You don’t deserve such a place, not after what you’ve done. Even as the harsh words grated on her mind, she knew they weren’t true. But she allowed them to flood through her anyway. Hope couldn’t have a place in her heart any longer. It hurts too much.

  A few minutes later, Lisbeth came into the room. “Darla?”

  Darla closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

  “Danny, I guess Darla’s asleep,” she heard Lisbeth whisper. ‘Goodness, I don’t know how she could have slept through that ruckus! Ma Downs must have thought that man was dangerous.”

  Darla lay quietly, waiting for what seemed like years, until she heard her friend’s gentle snores. I have to leave. What if Jethro comes back? I can’t bring danger to this place. These people are good and kind. They don’t need that.

  She got out of bed and stared at the sleeping woman. Danny was curled in Lisbeth’s hair, fluffy brown fur mixed in the red strands.

  I’ll miss you all so much. How can I bear it! Blinking away tears, she pulled on her socks and shoes, grabbed her carpet bag, and crept down the stairs and into the night.

  PART TWO: PASSAGE

  12 THE GATES

  Trees on both sides of the road leaned out toward Darla as she made her way down the lane. Brilliant light shone from the moon and stars, reminding her of the night a few months ago when she’d galloped away from her old life. It seemed fitting for this evening to be so similar. The flitting shadows led the way, as vague and shapeless as her future.

  When Darla reached the fairground entrance, it appeared to be deserted. The gates stood with beams crossed in defiance to anyone who dared try and invade them. The patient moon shone down as if to say, “I lit the way. That’s the best I could do.”

  What am I doing here? There’s no guarantee the medicine show will take me on. It’s more likely I’ll get hauled off to jail. Darla twisted a curl around her finger. Which would be worse, explaining her past to Ma Downs, or facing a judge? I’d rather go to jail. As long as Ethan doesn’t find out where I am.

  A glow from the left caught her eye. As she crept closer to the light, she saw a lumpy tent pitched to the far side of the gate, half-hidden in the brush. The spicy, choking scent of a cheap cigar drifted through the night. A few glowing embers in a pit lay before her. The light must be coming from a lantern, which meant the guard was probably sitting on the other side of the tent.

  Of course there’s a guard. Darla tiptoed back to the gates and examined them in the moonlight. The bars weren’t secured by a lock, but with thick lengths of rope, twisted into complicated knots.

  In her various professions Darla had dealt with her share of knots, but the dim light made progress difficult. She wished she hadn’t been so quick to relinquish her dagger and pistol. She poked and prodded at the rope until her fingers stung from the coarse fibers. Lord, please help me get inside.

  In her frustration, she jostled the gate and the boards protested with a loud creak.

  The tent moved, and a lantern swung around the side of the tent.

  Darla jumped back, blinking in the sudden light.

  “Hey lady, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” The guard was stocky and squat, with a bushy beard that cascaded down his chest like Spanish moss.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, sir.” Darla smiled her sweetest smile. “I need to get inside, please.” She allowed her lip to tremble.

  The guard gave her a wary glance-over. “Hmph. I’m not supposed to let anyone in the gate after ten of the clock.” He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a watch and peered at it in the lantern light. “It’s now half past eleven. So you’ll just have to wait until the morning light of dawn, ma’am.”

  “Oh please, please let me in.” Darla clasped her hands in front of her. Sudden inspiration struck. “My daddy will kill me dead if he knows I’m out here.”

  The guard’s thick eyebrows lifted. “What do you mean? And if you belong with someone in there, why do you have that?” He pointed to her traveling bag.

  A blink or two, and a few tears squeezed from Darla’s eyes and coursed down her cheeks. She gazed towards the heavens. “Oh, I’ve been awful. You see, I met Harry last week on the first night of the fair. He gave me all this sweet talk and won me a prize from the strong man contest! But Daddy didn’t like him one bit. Daddy calls the square dances.” She stole a glance at the guard, who was listening with his mouth hanging open.

  “Anyways, Harry asked me to run away with him, and I packed up all my worldly goods.” She held up her bag. “And took off like a wicked, evil girl. Can you imagine, good sir? After all my daddy has done for me, raising me like I was his very own?”

  The guard blinked. “Wasn’t you his own?”

  “Of course I was—am,” said Darla in haste. “But you wouldn’t think it the way I’ve treated him, now would you?”

  To her satisfaction, another, much larger tear slid down her cheek. In the past those tears had bought her money, jewelry, and even a pet poodle, which she’d
sold to a small town widow for fifty cents.

  The tears did not lose their power with the bearded man. Reaching a meaty paw into his pocket, he brought out a surprisingly clean handkerchief and handed it to her. “Don’t fret there, miss. Maybe your Pa’ll forgive you when you show up in the morning.”

  “You don’t understand.” Darla batted her now tear-fringed eyelashes. “I must get back before dawn. If he wakes up to find me missing, why, he might just fall down in a fit. He’s had them before. In San Antone,” she added for good measure.

  She wiped her eyes a final time and handed the handkerchief back to the guard.

  He folded it carefully and placed it back in his pocket. “Well, if it’s life and death like you say . . .” He shuffled to the gate.

  Even through her elation Darla could feel the lies burning the back of her throat. I’m sorry, God. A bit shocked by how easily they still came, she pressed a hand against her forehead. Well, I can’t back out now. I have no choice.

  “No choice?” A still small voice spoke. “Is this a choice I’ve set before you?”

  Darla glanced over her shoulder, though she knew the whisper had come from inside. Surely that can’t be God. Why would He choose to speak to me now? After that day on the street by the Dallas saloon, she’d longed to hear the voice of God once more. But now she doubted He’d give her the time of day after the flurry of untruths that had poured from her mouth.

  Before she could decide what to do, the guard had finished untying his mysterious set of knots.

  He swung the gate open and nodded to her.

  “Wait,” said Darla, “I need to tell you . . .”

  Rattling wheels interrupted her would-be confession as a caravan of gilded wagons paraded towards the gate. Lanterns hanging from the fronts of the wagons bobbed like ghostly beacons in the night.

  A slight, thin boy with hay-like blond hair appeared in the door of the wagon that was second in line. He rushed to Darla, the bells on his shoes jingling with every step.