Give Me a Texan

by Jodi Thomas

  Briar watched as a tall, slender figure suddenly stepped off the train, set down a valise, and faced the wind. “Well, who the high plains are you?” he asked aloud. The stranger wore a lampshade tunic with baggy trousers gathered at the ankle and a matching yellow turban that offered an exotic halo to a mixture of doe-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. A woman?

  She bent to retrieve something laying on the platform, studied it, and turned the item over in her hands. With a quick flick of the wrist, she deposited the article in a pocket.

  It was then he noticed her watching him. His first impulse was to back away from the window and pretend that he hadn’t been staring at her. Instead, something made Briar stand his ground. Meet her gaze.

  He longed for something different in his life lately, something other than his repetition of duties and responsibilities. He loved Violet and didn’t resent a moment of his time with her. She was all he had left. But when the world seemed active and he felt trapped in monotonous duties, he longed for a change…for anything that would bring some sort of adventure to his days. Something in the gaze that stared back at him now whispered that this strange-looking woman might have brought it with her. A muscle in his jaw tightened as his spirits threatened to dampen. He knew with certainty that it would bother him if she looked away as if he’d been mistaken in her interest.

  When she smiled and retrieved the treasure, holding it out toward him in silent question, blood surged hot within him. “No.” He shook his head as if she could hear him from the distance that separated them. “Not mine.”

  She shrugged and put it away, grabbing her valise while letting her gaze linger on him once again. Just as suddenly as she had exited the train, she turned and joined the stream of passengers heading toward town. He watched until the yellow of her clothing blended with the myriad of newcomers rushing to find transportation to their next destinations. The other women and their fashions now suddenly seemed plain or even frivolous.

  “No wonder you didn’t want to wear the blamed thing this morning,” he mumbled as he eyed the crowd for sight of his daughter among the stifling skirts that made the wearers’s steps more difficult. The little minx had argued that no “suffer-gette” would let herself be hobbled like a horse. When he asked where she had heard such nonsense, she told him that one of the doughboys who’d gotten off the train told another soldier that a “suffer-gette” was a woman who had a mind of her own and the gumption to walk in a man’s shoes.

  As odd as the woman in the turban had looked in her harem pants, he’d bet she had no problem moving in any manner she chose. Was she a suffragette? The idea of getting to know her well enough to discover her capabilities appealed to Briar just long enough to quickly dash it from his thoughts.

  If Violet caught sight of the stranger, he’d never hear the end of letting her wear pants!

  Tumbleweeds, buggies, and touring cars fought for supremacy over the roadway that transferred visitors from the train station to places of lodging elsewhere in the city. It was almost impossible to get a hotel or boarding room lately. Doughboys heading south to El Paso were even pitching their Sibley tents if lodging proved unavailable.

  Sand flicked the thick glass, sounding like angry insects committing suicide against the depot. The sun would be setting in a couple of hours and he hadn’t seen Violet since she had gone off to fly her kite. Frowning, Briar reprimanded himself for allowing the strangely dressed woman to distract him. His gaze wandered to a group of boys wrestling farther down the platform. The militant atmosphere that pervaded Amarillo the past few weeks had roused most of the citizens in some form or fashion. He’d bet today’s wages his daughter would be somewhere nearby. She tended to herd with the steeds and leave the mares to their grazing. If only Katie Rose were here. She’d know how to work through this little revolution Violet seemed so insistent upon.

  “I’ll black your eye and knock you two days into next Tuesday,” a tiny, familiar voice shrilled sharply through Briar’s thoughts.

  Behind him Briar heard a tick-tick-tickety-tick begin in earnest, signaling an incoming message. Yet, he was forced to ignore it. “Stop that,” he demanded, throwing open the door to the telegraph office and rushing down the platform to stop the group of boys. A tangle of hobbled skirt flipped end over end with a melee of trousers. Heads turned as others noticed the fight and stopped to see what had caused the ruckus.

  Exasperation filled him. Wasn’t someone else going to do something about the situation instead of just standing there? Was everyone so ready to fight that they’d stand by and gawk as the children went at it? Well, the wire could just sing for the moment. Preserving his rowdy daughter’s dignity was of more importance.

  “You boys stop fighting.” He peeled one lad off another. “Violet, get up from there before you lose a tooth or…Now look at you…you’re going to have a black eye.”

  All the children stood as if someone had aimed a rifle at them; everyone but his daughter, who avoided a direct gaze at Briar. Black brows arched like check marks over eyes that had inspired her name. One gloved fist came to rest on her hip, the other shaking vehemently at the red-haired, freckled-face boy standing opposite her. Just wonderful, Briar thought. One of the Corbetts’ grandchildren. The newspaper moguls weren’t over Violet’s last jumble.

  “He said you’re a desk dandy, Daddy, so I went and hit him.” The eye that was not swelling and showing signs of bruising narrowed. “I told him I would, but he said it again. You said we should give one warning, and I gave it. It’s his fault he got the licking, not mine.”

  “Well, I’m gonna tell my daddy.” The boy started crying. “I didn’t tell no lie. You are a desk dandy.”

  “Don’t tell your daddy, Jim,” one of the other boys advised. “He’ll take a switch to ya for letting a girl whip ya.”

  “A suffer-gette girl,” Violet proclaimed as she lifted her chin proudly.

  The other boys started chanting. “Violet whipped Jim. Violet whipped Jim. Beat the fire out of him, he-um, he-um.”

  Violet giggled, setting off another scuffle. Fists went flying and legs kicking. Violet lunged forward. Briar spread his arms, blocking his daughter’s fist from joining in again. “You kids get out of here or I’m going to talk to each of your parents. Take this battle elsewhere, unless you want some explaining to do.”

  They scattered like rabbits chased by a wolf.

  “Come inside,” he insisted. “It’ll be suppertime soon, and you look like you could use some cleaning. We’ll go home early—”

  “I didn’t do nothing.” She stood her ground. “He laughed at my dress and called you a name. I told you I shouldn’ta worn it, but you made me. So it’s your fault.”

  Briar bent so she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him. He knuckled her chin gently and lifted it. “Honey, his words didn’t hurt Daddy, and he’s too young to know the value of a pretty dress.” Ripped at the empire waist, the garment would never be fit to wear again. Not that he would let her wear another one like it. It played too prominent a part in tangling her feet and, consequently, blacking her eye.

  The ticking of the telegraph persisted. Briar glanced toward the machine as if willing it to answer itself. “Come inside for a minute, pumpkin. I’ll answer the machine, then we’ll get you cleaned up and talk about this at—”

  “I gotta go get my kite. I left it,” she said, stepping away and pointing past him. “You said proper ladies take care of their things.”

  “Don’t be long, then.” Briar gave in, knowing she had used his own sense of propriety to take her leave. A momentary wave of parental ethics engulfed him. “But don’t think this has ended,” he warned and gave the top of her head a quick pat. “We’ll talk about this at supper.”

  Violet took off abruptly and turned around to wave, babbling that indecipherable chatter she and the other children used when they wanted to keep adults at bay. It irritated him to no end that he couldn’t understand a single word of the child-speak, b
ut she refused to include him in its meanings. He wouldn’t put it past the little firebrand if it was some sort of secret code used to mount an insurrection against parents. Briar laughed despite the seriousness of the possibility. He dearly loved everything about her, including her obstinate attitude.

  Tickety, tick, tick. “All right, all right,” Briar complained to the impatient instrument. “I’m coming.” His long-legged gate closed the distance in a few steps.

  No rest for the totally outmaneuvered, he told himself, silently warming to his daughter’s sweet manipulations. She was personality to the hilt and headstrong as her mother. The only thing she’d inherited from him was his dark hair and twilight-shaded eyes. Everything else was Katie Rose. How could he find fault in that?

  Briar listened intently to the incoming message. Relief flooded him. Nathaniel. Lord, but he was glad to hear from him.

  Have answer. Stop. Arriving Amarillo by morning of Feb 20. Nathaniel.

  Briar’s smile wavered. Though his friend would be home tomorrow, the partial message was unclear. Have what answer? The only problem they’d discussed before leaving was whom they could get to look after Violet while they worked. Surely, Nathaniel hadn’t gone and hired a governess in St. Louis. He wouldn’t do that without consulting him, would he?

  “You’re supposed to be bringing dresses,” Briar told the machine as if it were Nathaniel. “I can find somebody here to help us.”

  Heaven knew there were enough new people in town lately to choose among. Trouble was, he preferred hiring someone he and Nathaniel knew well. Someone they could trust to teach Violet about silk and sashes and show her the delicacies of becoming a well-bred young lady. Someone not easily daunted by a feisty seven-year-old. Briar knew that Violet needed a special magic, a social polish that he had never found within himself. Maybe the telegram meant just what it said. Interviewing a governess would certainly explain the telegrapher’s long absence.

  Briar watched the engine’s steam billow and swirl away with the gusts of air. “Blow some magic in with you, wind, will you?” Briar whispered. “If Nathaniel’s bringing someone back with him, make her an angel. One who has a will strong enough to do battle with a devilish, little imp.”

  One with a heart not as easy to win as mine, he added for good measure.

  Chapter 2

  “Are you an angel?”

  Mina grabbed the branch above to stabilize her perch atop the limbs of the large Chinese elm tree that held her, then peered down to catch a view of the voice’s owner. A little girl.

  “I couldna say that I’ve ever been called that, sweeting.” Mina laughed, shifting her position so she could finish what she’d set out to do. Perhaps the kite that had tangled in the elm belonged to the lass. “But if I do enough good deeds while I’m on this earth,” Mina continued, freeing the obstinate tail at last, “then ye might call me that one day.”

  The little girl’s eyes rounded and flashed like two amethysts dazzled by the sun. “I know a really good deed you can do.”

  Was that a bruise beneath one of her eyes? Mina made her way down, moving one branch then another to see better. Why, the poor little thing sported a bruise as dark as coal pitch. “Do me a favor first,” Mina insisted, wanting to investigate the child’s injury further, “then I’ll be for granting any deed ye wish. Catch this kite so I can jump down, will ye now? No, come a wee bit closer. There now, lassie, that would be the spot. Ready. Set. Ahh, ’tis a good hand at catching ye have!”

  Mina swung from the lowest branch and landed with only the slightest breach of poise. She quickly dusted off her clothes and thanked the lass for helping her.

  The girl giggled. “Do all angels talk like you?”

  Mina joined in her merriment. “Theirs would be a wee more refined than me own, but I’d like to think I could give the Lord a good laugh now and again, doncha know.”

  The ebony curls that graced the sweet child’s head bobbed, making Mina even more aware of how the eye injury would soon match the shade of its owner’s hair. She gently reached out to touch the lass’s cheek and was warmed by the fact that the little girl did not move away and trusted her to add no further harm. “How did ye come by this?”

  “Got into a fight.” The child’s lips lifted into a grin as she rocked back on her laced boots. “But I won.”

  I just bet ye did. Mina admired the winner’s pluck as she quickly surveyed for further damage. Only a torn dress that was definitely not anyone’s hand-me-down. The garment showed no signs of long wear, so the assumption that the girl might be a street urchin instantly evaporated. “Are ye father and mother aware of these fisticuffs?”

  “Daddy is.”

  Mina’s attention averted to their surroundings and the people walking in and out of the shops along the roadway. None of them seemed concerned that this child was talking to an absolute stranger. “Is he nearby?”

  “Huh-uh.” The girl looked away for a moment, then faced Mina again, her brow wrinkling. “Will you do that good deed you promised me now?”

  Whatever concerned the child seemed terribly important. “Of course, lassie. Ye caught the kite for me ye did.”

  “Will you come home with me?”

  A twinge of longing swept through Mina so sharply that it nearly took her breath away. How long she had waited to hear those words? How often had she dreamed they would be offered in such kindness? Just as many times as there had been nights spent huddling behind tarps or hiding in secret nooks along the wharfs of St. Louis. The lass had no clue how deeply her request touched Mina. “What is yer name, sweeting?”

  “Violet. Violet Duncan.”

  Duncan? “Are you related to Briar Duncan, the station master?”

  Violet nodded. “He’s my papa, but then you probably already knew that, being an angel and all.”

  “Angel-in-training,” Mina corrected, not seeing any harm in going along with the child’s insistence for a moment. “Is yer father still at work or is he somewhere about?”

  “He’s always working.”

  The way the lass said “always” told Mina everything she needed to know. Her mother obviously did not care where the child played, not providing adequate supervision and allowing her to run the streets. Saints and begorra, what if someone with less moral decency had found her? She knew what it was like to be a child without the security of a parent or guardian. At least she knew where to take Violet, and once she did she would give the man a good tongue lashing. Employment be hanged. She would just have to find another way to pay back Nathaniel.

  “Is that yer kite?”

  Violet nodded. “You want it?”

  Mina shook her head. “I will fix it for ye, then ’twill fly again, it will.”

  The child handed the toy to Mina. “No, you keep it. I don’t need it no more.”

  She accepted the offering, deciding Violet would change her mind once it was repaired. “Did ye walk here?”

  Violet pointed to the approaching streetcar. “I rode that. Come on, it won’t cost no money. I get to ride free.”

  But I canna, Mina worried silently as she grabbed her valise from the base of the tree where she’d set it. She would need to preserve the few coins she possessed until she found other employment, now that it was sure and certain Violet’s father would not be hiring her.

  Much to Mina’s surprise she also rode for free. Violet seemed an apt manipulator of boosterism for Amarillo. The conductor agreed with the child’s reasoning that it made good sense to give a stranger a lift now and then just so the stranger could tell others about the pleasure of the ride.

  “Whew! I thought we’d never get here.” Violet started running for the depot. “Daddy’s already turned up the gaslights.”

  The child was not looking where she was going. Mina noticed a touring car coming at an incredible speed. Violet would not reach the platform in time. “Watch out, lass!” she yelled, dropping the valise and kite. She dashed after the child, grabbing Violet’s hand and jerking her bac
kward to safety just as an obnoxious honk emanated from the passing motorized Flivver.

  “Violet!” a masculine voice shouted. “Are you all right?”

  The tiny heart beat fast against Mina’s hip, nearly drumming through the child’s back. Mina turned her around and surveyed her face. “Ye okay, lassie?”

  “I’m a-all right, angel,” Violet finally managed and hugged Mina tightly.

  “How can I thank you, ma’am?” asked the man who came running up to check on them. Mina looked up and stared into a familiar face. His eyes were a shade deeper than his daughter’s but the Duncans had the same lock of hair that curled just over the peak of their brow. The same full upper lip. The resemblance was unmistakable. Briar Duncan was the man in the window. Mina’s breath did not slow despite her effort to ease it.

  The station master’s chest swelled as he tried to catch his own breath, making him seem even broader than earlier sight of him suggested. Anger and disappointment rose to battle with the attraction kindling inside Mina. How could such a fine-looking man be such a cur of a father? “Ye can thank me by not letting yer child walk the streets on her own. She could have been hurt.”

  “You’re right, of course,” he said, though the friendliness in his gaze narrowed into purple slits that glinted like stone. “It’s almost dark and I should have had closer watch on her. Violet, thank Miss—?”

  “McCoy. Mina McCoy.”

  “Tell Miss McCoy how much you appreciate her help, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “She’s coming home with us, Daddy.” Violet’s hold on Mina tightened. “She’s my angel and I found her. I’m gonna keep her.”

  “I suppose I should be explaining.” Mina’s anger began to ease because of his obvious concern for his daughter.

  “No need, Miss McCoy. I’m sure it has everything to do with the kite.”