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

by Angela Castillo

  Darla put down the mirror. “What makes her so sour? She’s beautiful. And so brave! I could never carry snakes around my neck!”

  Ketzia shrugged. “Miss Miranda gets fussy sometimes. She’ll be all right tomorrow.”

  Fatima came by with her sons tumbling behind her, as usual. “Ketizia, can you mind the baby for a moment. I need to give the boys haircuts before we move on.”

  “Of course.” Ketzia spread her shawl over a patch of thick grass, and Fatima placed the baby on the soft, makeshift mattress.

  Fatima took a pair of shears from the pile of supplies Ketzia had piled on the rocks. “We’ll be back in a little while.”

  The sun filtered through the trees and settled on the ground in bright, brilliant splotches.

  Ketzia held out one of her bracelets to the baby.

  The little one grasped the thick metal ring, her eyes growing wide. She put the bracelet in her mouth and cooed.

  “They have to taste everything, don’t they?” said Darla.

  “She’s such a sweet baby.” Ketzia stroked the soft ebony curls. “It’s nice to have a tiny one in the camp. Fatima has kept us in good supply of children to play with.” She glanced up at Darla. “Do you like babies?”

  “As much as anyone, but I never thought I’d be good at keeping one,” said Darla. She rested her chin on her hand. “To tell the truth, I never thought I’d want to marry and settle down, either. Figured no one would want me, due to my chosen profession. But every now and again, I’d hear about a girl who got swept off her feet by some cowboy.” She shook her head. “Didn’t think there was a man alive who could offer me enough to be a wife.”

  “Ah, but look what could come of it.” Ketzia picked up the baby and handed her to Darla.

  As the baby snuggled against her shoulder, Darla sighed. If only.

  Preparations for Waco continued throughout the day. Even while they walked beside the wagons, the troupe polished and mended and practiced.

  Despite these distractions, Darla thoughts drifted to Ethan. Part of her hoped he’d discovered the truth. If he despised her, perhaps he could move on with his life. On the other hand, her heart throbbed when she thought of how poorly he must think of her.

  Best I don’t know. Maybe I was never meant to be a wife, anyway.

  When the group stopped for the midday meal, Johnny came to sit by Darla with his bowl of beans. He handed her a hunk of johnnycake. “No molasses left, sorry. Doctor says we’ll pick up some in town.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. I like it plain.” She nibbled on the bread.

  Johnny’s blue eyes followed every movement. “Hey, the doctor wants us to think of a new play for the fancy folks. I was thinking about a wedding.”

  “A wedding? What are you talking about?”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “Well, it would be pretend, you know. But you could sing a song, and wear a dress.”

  “Silly boy, who would I marry?”

  “I don’t know . . .” He poked at the ground with a little twig. “How ‘bout me?”

  “Oh . . . Johnny.” Darla resisted the urge to tousle the boy’s blond head. His face was so serious she knew it would insult him. “I’m an old woman, and you’re such a sweet boy. I don’t think we should do a wedding.”

  “I understand.” His jabs to the ground became fiercer. “It was worth a try.”

  Darla decided to try and change the subject. “Hey Johnny, you know just about everything that goes on around here, don’t you?”

  He sat up straight, and his chest puffed out a little. “Course I do.”

  “You have any idea why Miss Miranda told me I wasn’t allowed in the lead wagon?”

  He frowned. “That’s where they keep all the medicines and stuff. I’m not even allowed in there.”

  “But why not? What are they hiding from us?”

  Johnny Jingles shook his head. “You worry too much.” He licked the last drops of broth from his dish. “I’m gonna clean out Lucy’s pen.”

  Darla gathered the dishes and took them over to the washbasin. As she scrubbed them clean, the thought kept coming up in her mind, like a bad penny. What are they hiding from us? What if it’s something terrible? I have to find out.

  After she dried the dishes and stacked them in their crate, she walked over to the lead wagon, attempting to keep her eyes forward. Can’t check to see if anyone’s watching. I don’t want anyone to get suspicious. Her heart thudded dully in her chest, and her tongue rested like a dried prune in her mouth, though she’d just taken a drink.

  No one crossed her path. Everyone’s by the fire. I’ll only take a peek. I have to know.

  Darting around the wagon, she leaned against the side, trying to keep her breathing level. She made it to the wagon’s little door and rested an ear against the wood. Only silence came from within. The lock wasn’t fastened. She reached a trembling hand towards the brass door knob and swung the door open.

  Chests and boxes sat on shelves before her, strapped in so they wouldn’t crash to the ground when the wagons moved. She climbed up the steps and entered the wagon. A row of green bottles lined the shelf and she picked one up, squinting to read the label. It proved to be in a foreign language. She returned it to its place and walked towards the back of the wagon.

  She froze. Three large jars had a shelf to themselves at the end. They were full of a translucent liquid, and each had a different object floating in them.

  What could those possibly be? Darla scooted closer and touched one of the jars. A shaft of light fell on the container from the wagon’s tiny window. Suddenly it dawned on her and she staggered back. It’s a heart! Maybe even a human heart! And that must be a brain . . . is the third thing a liver? She slapped her hand over her mouth, trying to hold in her breakfast.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” A woman hissed.

  “Oh!” Darla pressed a hand against her chest. “Miss Miranda! I . . . I was looking for you.” Another lie.

  “I don’t think so.” Miss Miranda’s face had gone white except for two bright spots on her cheeks. She grabbed Darla’s wrist with surprising strength. “I bet you were trying to steal from us. Folks who’ve taken you in and cared for you all this time!”

  “Steal something? Oh no, of course not!”

  Miss Miranda yanked her down the wagon steps. “You know we keep the money in there.”

  Doctor Ebenezer puffed over from the fire. “Miss Miranda, what is going on over here?”

  “I caught her trying to steal money!” Miss Miranda pulled Darla forward. “She was in the lead wagon, after I strictly forbid her to go in there.”

  Doctor Ebenezer’s mustache trembled. “Is this true, Darla?”

  Tears ran down Darla’s cheeks. “No. I would never steal from you! I was just . . . curious, that’s all. I thought maybe . . . you were hiding something.”

  Other members of the troupe gathered around the wagon. Darla caught Ketzia’s worried stare and looked away.

  “What you’re saying is, you didn’t trust us.” Doctor Ebenezer’s tone was grave.

  Darla lifted her chin. “And for good reason! Why do you have those body parts, anyway? Are you practicing some kind of magic arts?”

  “No, Darla,” the doctor said quietly. “Those are medical specimens I have purchased over the years for study. I don’t show them to new troupe members right away for this very reason. I don’t want to frighten anyone.”

  “Oh.” Darla looked down at the ground. Of course they are medical specimens. Why didn’t I think of that? I was so sure there would be something bad.

  The Doctor took her hand and looked up into her face. Darla almost felt he was trying to read her very soul. “I will ask you once more. Were you planning to steal from me, and all of your friends, here?”

  Darla drew herself up. “Never.”

  He blinked and turned to the rest of the group. “I believe this woman. Curiosity killed the cat, but it does not mean she’s a thief. Everyone go bac
k to work, please. Let’s not have another word about it.”

  Miss Miranda’s mouth dropped open, and she looked as though she wanted to say a great many things. Instead she turned and went into the wagon, slamming the door behind her.

  The other troupe members turned and walked away, including Ketzia. The gypsy girl’s head was bowed.

  “Thank you,” Darla said to Doctor Ebenezer.

  Doctor Ebenezer’s shoulders sagged, and he looked much older than ever before. “Perhaps someday, Miss North, you will believe in me.”

  20 CARING FOR JACK

  Two miles from Willoughby, Jack’s gait shifted. Though the change was slight, years of riding had taught Ethan not to ignore the sensation. “Whoa. Whoa, boy.” He stopped the horse and dismounted.

  Tying the reins to a nearby elm tree, he used a stick to clean out the right front hoof. All of Jack’s shoes had looked fine last night. There had been no loose nails or gaps. Ethan dug deeper into the hollow, flicking out mud. No big rocks or thorns. There. Almost too small to see. A pea-sized pocket of pus.

  “Oh, Jack, I can’t drain it here. Let’s try to make it into town and see if we can get you some help.” Ethan kicked at a glop of mud. The road had been damp for most of the journey. A situation like this wasn’t surprising, even though he’d been careful to clean Jack’s hooves every time they stopped.

  He started to remount, then shook his head. Better not. It’s not that far to town anyway.

  An hour later, he reached the town of Hamilton. Long shadows lined the streets from houses on the sides. Dogs barked at him, and housewives shopping for last-minute supper items hurried past.

  An inquiry and a pointed arm led him to a boarding house, next to a saloon. He tied Jack to the hitching post. When he pushed on the ancient, half-rotted door, it creaked open on leather hinges. The sharp scent of mildew and rot filled his nose and tickled his tongue. Wish I’d brought in my canteen.

  An old woman sat on a stool. She leaned against a wall, looking through a catalogue.

  After eyeing the peeled wallpaper and stained floor, Ethan sighed. It’s not like I have a choice. “Could I please have a room for the night?”

  She looked him up and down, and a smirk tugged at her wizened lips. “With or without companionship?”

  Heat rose to his face. “Oh, gosh. Without, please. I will need a stall for my horse, a place where I can fix a bad hoof.”

  Opening her catalogue again, she waved a dismissive hand. “It’ll be a quarter for the room and a dime more for the stall. You might find some tools in the stable, if the last lout didn’t take off with ‘em.”

  “Thank you kindly.” Ethan placed the money on the counter and tipped his hat, though the gesture went unnoticed.

  Piles of manure and puddles of mud filled most of the vacant stalls. Ethan sighed. Better to sell Jack to a knacker now than let him stay in this place the way it is. He spent over an hour cleaning out the least disgusting stall and spread out several layers of straw from a pile behind the stable.

  After leading his horse into the dark building, Ethan managed to find a hoof-pick and a bottle of liniment. His nose wrinkled when he pulled out the cork. “Something that smells that bad must be powerful stuff, Jack.”

  Jack snorted and turned his head.

  With experienced hands, Ethan cleaned the hoof and drained the pus. He made a poultice from the liniment and moss he’d picked up in the woods. Darla could be in this town right now and I might miss her again. His hands shook as he re-corked the bottle. I just don’t think I could stand it. But he knew better than to ignore his horse’s malady. Folks had lost perfectly good mounts from far less serious ailments.

  An hour later, he left the stable and walked down the town’s dusty little streets, scanning walls and fences for handbills. Scoundrels scowled at him from wanted posters, and advertisements for remedies screamed for his attention. He saw nothing about Doctor Ebenezer.

  He counted days in his head. Could he have passed the caravan somehow without realizing it? No, he had taken the only road the large wagons could safely pass. He couldn’t have missed them.

  A young girl hurried by with a basket of eggs.

  “Hey there, Miss.” He touched her shoulder. “Did a medicine show pass through here?”

  The girl looked him over with a wary eye. “Yes,” she stammered. “About two days ago.”

  Pulling off his hat, Ethan ran a hand through his hair while the child scurried off. Could I have missed it? Could the man in the last town have been wrong about the dates?

  At the post office he found what he’d been searching for. A handbill, held by one corner. “Professor Ingleburt’s Marvels.” A different show.

  Darla’s group must have gone somewhere else. He staggered back against the post. The troupe could have gone in any direction. With a partially lame horse, there was no sense even trying to figure out where.

  Ethan sank against the wall. Such a foolish journey. I wasted money better spent for other things. I left my mother to struggle with Downs House on her own. And I followed after a girl who wouldn’t have left in the first place if she cared for me.

  A tiny flame burned in his heart, carrying a message in a flickering light. What if she does care, just as Sarah cared.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for leaving another woman alone in her sadness. I must bear it. I’ve done everything I can.

  Catching sight of his reflection in a shop window, he grimaced. No wonder the little girl had looked so alarmed. Curls tumbled from beneath his hat, and scraggly hairs stuck out from his beard like rusted wires. He hadn’t had a bath since he’d left the Duncan’s home.

  Ethan returned to the boarding house steps, paused and counted his money. Sighing, he went back inside and stood at the counter. He waited for the woman to look up from the catalogue she still read.

  “Do you have a bath house here?” he asked.

  “Sure do, mister. Soap’s extra. If you want, I’ll throw in a hair cut and a shave by my husband out yonder. Everything for ten cents.”

  Ethan handed the woman another precious dime and pushed his way into the second room, where he was greeted by a rusty wash basin and an ancient scrub-brush with half the bristles missing.

  He was about to pull off his shirt when the woman walked in without knocking. She handed him a soft hunk of homemade soap and a none-too-clean flour sack.

  “Thanks,” said Ethan.

  “Hmm hmmm.” She went out the door.

  Ethan plunged his arm in the icy water, where the soap dissolved into tiny useless bits that floated on the surface. He stared at them and shook his head.

  Yes. Tomorrow I’ll head for home.

  ###

  “Johnson City,

  Johnson City,

  Where all the girls

  Are so pretty”

  Johnny sang in time to the jingling of his shoes.

  “Aren’t you a little young to be thinking about pretty girls?” Darla teased.

  “Yes, but it’s a nice little ditty,” Johnny sang. He glanced over at Darla. “Besides, none of the ladies there will be prettier than you and Mrs. Ketzia.”

  “Why, Master Jingles, you’re making me blush,” said Darla, making a show of covering her cheeks with her hands.

  After the incident with the lead wagon, most of the troupe had avoided her. She didn’t blame them. It made sense they would believe Miss Miranda over a newcomer. She’d spent last night rolled up in a blanket by the campfire, alone.

  The hardest was Ketzia, who hadn’t said much, only looked at her with sorrowful eyes. Darla’s only friend now was Johnny, who pretended as though nothing had happened at all.

  “Are you finished, with your chores, Johnny?” Miss Miranda’s sharp voice interrupted Darla’s thoughts. She stood behind them, hands on her hips, eyebrows drawn to her nose in a fierce point. “Make sure you feed the snakes today. I don’t want them fractious.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll check the traps
.” Johnny Jingles tipped his hat and ran off towards the woods.

  “Darla.” Miss Miranda gave her a rare smile. “I have a favor to ask of you?”

  “Me?” The snake charmer hadn’t spoken to Darla since yesterday, and the looks she’d shot her when they did meet could have killed a rat.

  “Doctor Ebenezer wants you to run into the town nearby and pick up a packet of hairpins and some ribbons. He wants all of us ladies to match in Waco. I think blue would be nice, don’t you?”

  “Even Ketzia and Fatima?” Darla had never seen the gypsy women wear anything in their hair but scarves.

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Miss Miranda handed her a dime. “This town is small, but the general store should have what we need. Just be quick about it.” She pointed through the trees. “Follow that path. Should take you less than twenty minutes to run the errand. We’ll be here for at least another hour.”

  “Shouldn’t I see if someone can go along?” Darla glanced around. Ketzia was grooming the horses, but Darla couldn’t bear to face her friend’s sad smile today.

  Surely we have enough ribbons. But she was familiar with Doctor Ebenezer’s eccentricities, and he’d been very particular in his preparations for Waco. He’d even told Johnny to polish the snakes. Darla looked after Miss Miranda’s departing figure and bit her lip. I’m certainly not in a position to protest. I’ll go and not complain about it.

  The sun had burned through the gray clouds at last, and bright new wildflowers dotted the sides of the path, including Darla’s favorites, the flaming red Indian Paintbrushes. As a child, she’d always thought the cold of winter would never go away. But every year spring unfurled like a dress with brilliant patterns in every fold.

  True to Miss Miranda’s word, houses soon appeared through the trees. The town consisted of a few staggered buildings, plain without the bother of false fronts, built around a main street. No one walked the dusty roads.

  A creaking noise came from a building near the end of the block. When Darla walked closer, she saw a battered sign that read “General Store” hanging by a rusted wire. The breeze hit the sign, and it squeaked again.