Travis (23 page)

Travis turned away from the window. “Reckon I am.”

She was shaking from having stood so close to him. She didn’t see how she could continue to live here, loving him like she did and knowing he hated her. “I—I think I’ll pop some corn. Who wants popcorn?”

A chorus of shouts went up behind her, all the kids offering to help, and she went into the kitchen, eager to have something to do to pass the time.

While Travis and Harold settled down with the checkerboard, Violet and the others went into the kitchen. She stoked up the old iron stove and got out her big skillet. “Now you kids watch out—I don’t want anyone to get burned.”

The kids and the dog gathered around the stove while she got out the grease and the can of popcorn. “Here’s how you do it, see? You get the oil hot and put in the corn, then you keep sliding the skillet back and forth to keep the corn from burning until it pops.”

In minutes, she had a savory skillet full of popcorn. “Now we’ll add a little butter and salt.” She put it in a bowl and carried it into the living room, where Travis and Harold were playing checkers.

Kessie laughed. “We’re like a real family, aren’t we?”

Travis looked at Violet and frowned. “Sure. Just like a real family.”

She didn’t like the way he was glaring at her. The children all dived into the popcorn with both hands.

“I’ll make some more,” she said and hurried back to the kitchen. She had thought his anger might fade, but he still seemed as furious as ever. As she started popping corn again, all she could think of was the coldness of Travis’s dark face. In thinking about that, she wasn’t paying enough attention to the skillet and she grabbed the iron handle and then shrieked in pain.

Immediately, children surrounded her and she heard the checkerboard being overturned as Travis got up and came into the kitchen. “What the hell’s happening?”

“Her burned herself,” Bonnie sobbed. “Feathers burned.”

“I’m okay,” Violet lied, but she was shaking as she plunged her hand into a bucket of cold water.

She couldn’t hold back the tears as she held out her blistered hand.

“Damn it, how could you be so careless?” Travis reached for the butter and took her hand gently.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I—I was thinking about other things.”

“Sit down,” he ordered, “and you kids back away.”

“Is she okay?” Kessie asked.

Travis was holding Violet’s hand and she closed her eyes as he examined her burned fingers. “I think she’ll be okay. Houston, get a clean rag and I’ll wrap it up.”

Violet tried to blink away the tears without any luck.

Travis stared at her, still holding her hand. “It hurt?”

“Not much,” she said.

“You know I hate liars,” he said as he smoothed the butter on her fingers with a gentle hand.

“I know,” and then she burst into tears.

“Gosh, she must really be hurt.” Harold’s almond eyes got big and round.

“Stop crying, missy,” Travis ordered softly. “You’re scaring the kids.”

She closed her eyes as he deftly put a bandage on her hand, holding it in the palm of his big one. “Are you all right now?”

She nodded.

“I think you’d better go to bed,” Travis said. “I can deal with the kids.”

“Are you sure?”

He snarled, “Go on to bed.”

She started down the hall. Behind her, she heard him telling the kids to put away the checkerboard and get ready for bed. Her hand was throbbing so she lay down on her bed fully clothed. Would he come see about her later? Was there any chance he cared anything at all for her? Of course not. Not only had she lied to him, but she couldn’t compete with the beautiful, rich widow. She might have no choice but to run away.

No, she shook her head stubbornly. If she turned tail and ran, the kids would be at the mercy of that woman and they would all be sent off to boarding or military schools. As smitten as Travis was with the widow, he could be convinced that it was all for their own good.

She lay there, listening. Gradually the house quieted down. After a while she heard the sound of Travis’s boots in the hall and he paused outside her door. She could see his big silhouette looming there. He knocked softly on the doorjamb, but she decided not to answer. She wasn’t sure what to say to him.

He came into her room and he stood there, looming as a big shadow across her bed. “Violet? Are you asleep?”

She wanted to say, “No, how can I sleep when you hate me and I love you?” but she didn’t say anything. She pretended to be asleep. If she answered or held out her arms to him, would he come into her room, kneel by her bed and embrace her, or continue the terrible row from this afternoon?

After a long moment, he sighed and walked on. She lay there listening to him walk down the hall to his room. Her hand had ceased throbbing and she wondered now what would have happened if she had answered. Would he have come in and made love to her now that he knew she was a grown woman? Most men couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that, but maybe he was saving his passion for Mrs. Van Mayes. There was no way to know his true feelings. It was a long time before she dropped off to sleep.

 

 

Travis turned restlessly in his bed. He had conflicting emotions toward Violet now that he knew her true age, and he wasn’t quite sure he believed everything she had told him. With Emily, he had had all the lying and ridicule he could take for one lifetime, and he didn’t intend to let a woman do that to him again. In his mind, he saw Emily as she left him, bragging about her handsome gambler with his fine frock coat and the diamond horseshoe pin on his necktie. He realized now that maybe he had never loved Emily as much as he had thought. It was only that he had had so much pride in winning her hand in marriage and had suffered so much humiliation when she left him.

He tried to focus his attention on the beautiful widow, who might be delighted if he changed his mind, but his thoughts kept returning to the naked girl with long brown hair standing by the washtub. His manhood came up and throbbed hard. He hadn’t had a woman in so long and there was a pretty little wench sleeping under the same roof with him. Immediately he felt like the worst kind of rascal. Yet he was a proud man and slow to forgive. The answer was to get enough money to buy Violet a train ticket and tell her to go away and never contact him again. He could marry the rich widow, and he and the kids could have an easy life with her.

And yet, when he finally managed to drift off to sleep, the warm thighs he dreamed of were Violet’s and in his sleep, his hot mouth sucked her small, pert breasts.

The next morning, Violet was awakened by the children running from one room to the other, laughing and playing tag. Little Bonnie and the dog both jumped on her bed, giggling and Growler licking her face. “Pancakes!” Bonnie shouted. “Want pancakes!”

“All right, I’ll get up.” Violet smiled as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and sat there a moment as the toddler and the dog romped on through the house. She heard Travis banging around in the kitchen and she hurriedly dressed and went there. “I’m sorry, I must have overslept,” she murmured as he looked up.

He didn’t say anything, only frowned. “Since your hand is burned, I started breakfast.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hurt; I can manage.” Her arm brushed his and she stepped away. Now that he knew her real age, it was awkward to behave like an adult when he had always regarded her as almost a child. “The kids want flapjacks,” she said, “so if you’ll give me room, I’ll get started.”

“Sure.” He didn’t even smile as he walked out of the kitchen.

If he was going to keep this up, being cold to her, she didn’t know whether she could stand it and besides, the children would soon notice it and might start asking questions. The tense atmosphere in the house these last few days had led to Bonnie wetting her drawers again and Kessie chewing her nails once more.

She heard him talking to the children in the parlor as she got out the eggs and milk.

“Hey, Travis, are we gonna practice shooting today?” Houston asked.

She peeked around the corner to see Travis ruffle the boy’s hair. “Yep. If you take that prize away from the men at the shooting match, they’ll get the shock of their lives.”

“Travis, won’t you enter the contest?” Kessie asked.

He shook his head. “You know the trouble I have with my wrist. It hurts too much to risk it.”

Harold grinned. “But if you did enter, you would win.”

Travis smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Violet returned to her cooking, listening to the hum of conversation from the other room. They had been so happy as a family until Travis found out what a liar she was. Now she wasn’t sure what to expect. She could only pray he didn’t find out the rest of it.

She stuck her head around the door. “Flapjacks ready.”

“About time.” Travis scowled at her. “You should have let me do it.”

“My hand’s okay,” she said as they all trooped in to sit down. She served up flapjacks with plenty of syrup and butter and big slabs of thick ham. “I’ll get the coffee.” She headed back to the kitchen. It felt awkward sitting down at the table, where she had to look at Travis ignoring her.

Finally she sat down. “Bonnie, stop feeding the dog all your food,” she said and then concentrated on her plate.

“Growler like flapjacks, too,” Bonnie lisped.

“Well, eat some of them,” Travis said. “Now, Houston, don’t forget to come by the shop at noon.”

Houston nodded, his face happy. “How could I forget? Violet, did you know me and Travis been practicing? I’m going to enter the shooting match.”

“I’m sure Travis will train you so well you’re sure to win.” She sneaked a look at Travis, but he kept his eyes on his plate.

“You men only have a few days,” Kessie admonished.

“Is July Fourth that soon?” Violet asked. “Time sure does get away fast.”

“And I’m gonna march in the parade with the suffragettes,” Kessie announced.

Harold snorted. “Women ain’t ever gonna get the right to vote, so you’re wasting your time.”

Travis looked up. “Well, I don’t see why ladies can’t vote. Some of them are smart as any man.” He stared directly at Violet. “Although some of them are pretty devious and lie like a rug.”

“What that means?” Bonnie asked, her round face smeared with syrup.

Violet felt her face flush and she got up from the table. “I’ll get some more coffee.”

“It means,” Travis said behind her, “some women are big liars and keep secrets.”

“Men do, too,” Kessie said.

“Yeah, but women are best at it,” Travis answered.

In the kitchen, Violet leaned on the stove and gritted her teeth. If this tension was going to go on every moment she didn’t think she could stand it.

“What happened to the coffee?” Travis called.

“Coming.” She carried the pot back to the dining room and squelched the temptation to pour it in his lap instead of his cup.

He didn’t even thank her as he gulped the hot, strong brew. “Well, kids, I got to be leaving. Help Violet around the house and I’ll see you boys about noon.” He got up from the table and left, slamming the door behind him.

Harold looked at Violet with those big almond eyes. “What’s wrong with Travis?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Violet lied. “Now finish your milk and chop me some more stove wood. Houston, you can milk the cow and bring in some water so Kessie can wash the dishes.”

“Why do the women always wash the dishes?” Kessie whined.

“Because, silly,” Houston answered, “girls are too weak to chop wood and carry water.”

“I’ll show you how weak I am!” Before Violet could stop her, Kessie had dragged Houston from his chair and was pummeling him.

“Kids! Kids, stop it!” Violet jumped up, grabbed Kessie and pulled her away. “Now Kessie, if you want to trade jobs with the boys—”

“No, I’d rather do dishes.”

“Then stop fussing, for heaven’s sake,” Violet snapped.

Bonnie looked up at her. “You mad?”

Violet sighed. “No, just didn’t sleep well.”

All four sets of eyes turned on her.

“I just didn’t, that’s all.”

“Grown-ups,” Harold snorted. “Both of them are grouchy this morning.”

“Let’s clear the table,” Violet said. “And Bonnie, wash your face, you’ve got syrup all over it.”

She walked into the kitchen, came back to see Growler licking the toddler’s sticky face. “I said wash it.”

“Growler wash it.” Bonnie smiled.

“That’s not what I had in mind.” Violet grabbed a washcloth and pushed the dog away. “You three kids get on with your chores.”

It took awhile to get the house in order. The late June heat was oppressive and Violet opened all the windows to get a breath of air. The Fourth of July celebration was only a few days away and by then, she and Travis were going to have to come to some sort of truce. She couldn’t stand to live under this much tension.

Kessie looked out the window. “There goes Mrs. Van Mayes in her fancy buggy.”

“Oh? Where’s she going?” Violet asked.

“Looks like she’s headed to the gun shop.”

Violet gritted her teeth. “Maybe she needs to buy a gun.”

Harold laughed. “I don’t think so. I think she drops in to visit Travis. Sometimes she brings him lunch.”

“Is that so?” Violet snapped. “Well, she can’t take him picnicking because he promised you boys he’d help you with your target shooting at noon.”

“She brings a good lunch, Travis says,” Kessie remarked.

“I pack a pretty good lunch myself, so I’ll take him lunch.” Violet marched into the kitchen and got out a fresh loaf of bread, some pickles she had made, the leftover roast beef and some oatmeal cookies.

“I’ll take it to him when I go down for target practice,” Houston offered.

“No, I think I’ll take it down myself,” Violet said as she wrapped the lunch up in brown paper and started out the door.

“It’s a little early for lunch,” Harold pointed out.

“I just want to make sure he doesn’t get hungry,” Violet said as she went out.

 

 

At the gun shop, Travis looked up as the beautiful widow, dressed in soft blue, entered the store. “Oh, hello, Charlotte. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

She smiled at him. “I’ve decided to give you another chance.”

He shrugged, not wanting to start a row here in the store. “We’re doing a lot of business here with the Fourth of July coming soon.” He wished she’d leave, but instead, she came over to the counter.

“Travis, you intrigue me.”

“Oh?”

“Every man in the county would love to marry me, but the only one I want is you.”

He tried to busy himself with the display under the glass showcase. “You only want me because I’m not available, Charlotte. I’ve got a crippled arm and no money, plus a passel of adopted kids.”

She leaned on the counter and he could smell her expensive perfume and see her big breasts in her low-cut bodice. “I have the money for the best surgeons in the world. I could pay to have that arm fixed.”

“If it were healed, I’d return to being a Ranger.”

She batted her eyelashes coyly. “You wouldn’t settle for running my giant ranch?”

He shook his head. “You can’t buy me, Charlotte.”

“And that’s why I find you so intriguing,” she purred. “Anyway, that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Oh?” He picked up a pistol out of a case and began to clean it.

“Well, you should know people are beginning to whisper.” She lowered her voice.

“About what?”

“Mind you, I tell them they’re wrong, but people are saying that it’s not proper for a single man to be living with a girl who is in her early teens.”

“They’ve got dirty minds!” Travis snapped and slammed the pistol down. “Violet is innocent and sweet.”

She shrugged and turned away from the counter. “All I know is people are whispering.”

“About what?” He was seething.

“Well, you know—”

“No, I don’t.”

“She’s pretty and there’s just the two of you, and—”

“And four other kids. This somebody had better not be smearing an innocent girl’s reputation.”

“Well, people will talk. I know it’s innocent and you want to protect her and I’d like to help.” She turned and looked out the window.

“How? What do you mean?”

“If you were married or had a housekeeper living there as sort of a chaperone, no one would think there was anything scandalous going on.”

“There isn’t.” He ground his teeth in rage. “Who is smearing Violet’s reputation? I swear I’ll—”

“You can’t fight the whole town.” Charlotte smiled a little too sweetly. “What if I loan you Conchita, my old Mexican housekeeper?”

Travis snorted. “Violet does the housework with some help from the kids and she does a damned good job of it, too.”

“That’s not the point, Travis. Do you want to protect that girl?”

“Of course I do. In Texas, a man will fight to protect a woman’s reputation.”

“Then let me send Conchita to stay a few weeks. Violet will be properly chaperoned and the gossip will die down.”

Travis sighed. “I really don’t want your housekeeper.”

The widow reached over to pat his arm. “I understand, Travis, but you’d do it to protect that young girl from ugly gossip, wouldn’t you?”

He shook her hand off. “Of course I would. I don’t want anyone talking dirty about that sweet girl.”

“It’s settled then. I’ll pack her up and send her over tomorrow afternoon.”

Travis snapped, “This town is getting too much for me.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. It’s just like every other town; idle people need something to talk about and a grown man living with a young girl who isn’t his daughter would cause gossip in any town.”

“It’s not like that, I tell you.”

“I believe you.” Her tone was soft, soothing. “But this will stop the gossip.”

“I can’t have your housekeeper forever. My house isn’t that big.”

“Well, maybe things will change. You might decide to get married.” She smiled up at him and walked to the window. “Oh, here comes the sweet little thing now. I presume she’s bringing you lunch, but in the middle of the morning?” She laughed.

 

 

Violet saw the fancy buggy tied up at the hitching rail, squared her shoulders and marched inside the gun shop.

Mrs. Van Mayes leaned over the counter, giggling at something Travis had said. “Oh, Mr. Prescott, you are so witty!”

“Isn’t he though?” Violet said and slammed his lunch down on the counter.

“Violet, what are you doing here?” Travis frowned.

“I thought you might be hungry early,” Violet snapped.

The pretty widow looked annoyed. “How nice that such a young girl is so thoughtful, but you needn’t have bothered. I brought a lovely lunch for Travis.”

The two women glared at each other and Travis cleared his throat in the silent tension of the room. “I’m mighty hungry today, I reckon I can eat two lunches.”

“Or share it with the kids,” Violet said. “Remember you promised to help the boys with target practice during noon today?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Van Mayes looked disappointed. “Travis, I was hoping you’d go driving with me at noon.”

Travis shook his head. “I am sorry, Charlotte. I clean forgot I had promised the boys. Houston is hoping to win the shooting prize July Fourth.”

“You know, I donated the prize—a fine black quarter-horse filly named Onyx.”

Travis nodded. “Houston would love to have his own horse.”

The rich widow fluttered her eyelashes at him and touched his hand across the counter. “And I’m sure, with your help, he will.”

Travis blushed. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Mrs. Van Mayes frowned at Violet. “Well, now, dear, since you’ve brought your daddy his lunch, I guess you can run on.”

Violet didn’t move. “I thought I’d wait until the boys got here.”

“Oh,” the widow said. “Well, Travis, I guess I’ll be running along. There’s just so much to do on a big ranch, you know. I’ll send Conchita tomorrow. Oh, by the way, there’s a ladies’ choice dance the night of the Fourth. I do hope you’ll be my partner.”

“Who’s Conchita?” Violet asked.

“My housekeeper.” The lady shrugged. “I’m sending her over to help you run your house.”