Travis (25 page)

Houston looked up. “I don’t think she likes us much.”

“She’s used to much better,” Violet said.

“There isn’t any place better than this,” Harold declared.

Travis grinned at Violet. “You’re right about that, partner. Now one more game and you kids go to bed.”

There was a roar of disapproval from the children, but Violet said, “Come on, I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

When she walked past Conchita’s door, she saw the light was still on. She paused and knocked on the door.

Violet opened the door and peeked in. The woman sat knitting. “I was just concerned you weren’t in bed yet.”

Conchita frowned at her. “I like to stay up late.”

“All right.” Violet shrugged and closed the door. Then she went to get all the kids in bed and told them a story.

Afterward she looked into the parlor. Travis sat there reading a magazine about livestock. Violet noticed he was holding it upside down. She decided not to comment on that. “Are you going to bed?”

He looked up at her. “I think I’ll read a while.”

She started to go.

“Violet.”

“Yes?” She turned to face him.

He looked up at her from his chair. “I can’t promise you anything.”

“I didn’t ask you to, did I?”

“You never ask for anything. Surely you must want more than this—looking after an injured shop clerk and a bunch of kids that aren’t yours.”

“They’re my kids,” she answered emphatically. “I’d hoped you’d feel like they were yours, too.”

He merely grunted and she sighed and went to her room to put on a sheer lawn nightgown and let down her hair. She got into bed with Bonnie and pushed Growler to the foot. It was a warm night, but a cool breeze blew through the window. It was almost dark and the northbound train whistled from the distance and slowly chugged into town. From her position by the window, Violet watched the train stop in the station. From here, she could see a woman on the platform waiting to board. It was a big thing for the train to stop, but a lady passenger was getting on. The red-haired woman wore a dark cotton traveling suit and when she turned her head, she looked familiar to Violet. Then as the train pulled out of the station again, heading north, she decided she had been mistaken. She didn’t know that many people in town anyway.

She lay there a long time, enjoying the cool breeze across her perspiring body as darkness fell completely over the town. She heard Travis get up and move around the parlor, then the thud as he took off his big boots. Now he would go out on the back porch and wash himself in the washbowl there. His black hair would be slicked down and his dark skin would be damp as he came down the hall, bare-chested.

She heard him pause at her door and she held her breath, hoping he would come in.

He didn’t. She heard him sigh and then move down the hall to his own room. Violet was disappointed. She had wanted him to make love to her for so long and yet he held back. She began to think again about leaving right after the holiday. It would be easy to slip away at night, catch a ride on a passing wagon. The kids would forget about her and Travis would marry the rich widow and run her big ranch.

Violet lay there a long time, listening. She thought she heard Travis turning over and over in his sleep as if unable to rest. She was restless herself in a way that she had never experienced before. She had had a lot of men, but she had never wanted a man before she met this big Texas Ranger. If he wouldn’t come to her, she would go to him. She had to know if he had any feelings for her.

She sat up in bed, wondering if he would rebuff her. That would be humiliating, but she’d never know until she tried. She got up and tiptoed through the darkness in her bare feet. She paused at his door. Did she dare chance it?

She opened his door, knowing she was standing there in the moonlight silhouetted in the filmy lawn nightdress. “Travis?”

“Yes?”

“Are you asleep?”

“No. What do you want?” He sounded guarded.

She shut the door behind her and tiptoed over to the bed, sat down on the edge. “I—I can hear you turning over and over.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t either.” She leaned on one elbow over him.

“You’re taking a big chance coming in here, missy.”

She picked up his big hand and kissed the knuckles. “I know.”

His voice was angry. “You don’t know anything about men, Violet. Go back to your own bed, before I—”

“Before you what?”

His big hand now encircled her small wrist. “I don’t like silly, innocent girls teasing me.”

“Suppose I’m not teasing?” She leaned over him and with a soft moan, he pulled her down to him, running his hand down to stroke her hips. His big hand was warm, possessive.

She lay on his chest, feeling the rippling muscles of his bare body through her sheer nightdress. It seemed to send flashes of fire through her nipples.

He breathed deeply, rapidly. “Missy, you don’t know what men do to girls, and you’re too innocent to find out without a white dress and a wedding ring.”

“I don’t care about those things.”

“You will. You’ll have regrets in the morning and then you’ll go crying home to Mama that I had my way with you.”

“I’m an orphan, remember?” She leaned over, brushing her breasts against his chest as she kissed him, putting her tongue against his lips until he opened them and sucked it inside while his big hands encircled her back and pulled her hard against him. His manhood came up, big and pulsating.

Her heart was beating so hard, it felt like a war drum inside her chest.

He rolled her over on her back and pulled down her nightdress, stroking her nipples until she trembled.

Then he froze and she too, heard the creak of a chair from her old room. “Conchita is still up,” she whispered.

“Then you get out of here,” he ordered, breathing hard, and rolling away from her. “I don’t want your reputation ruined.”

If only he knew she had no reputation left. “I’ll go, but I don’t want to.”

Quickly she tiptoed down the hall and got into Bonnie’s room just as Conchita came out into the hall. Violet peeked around the door and saw the woman go into the kitchen and heard the dipper clank against the bucket. What a time for the woman to want a drink of water.

With a sigh, Violet closed the door and got into bed with Bonnie. She was still breathing deep, thinking about kissing Travis. She had almost made love to him. What would it have been like? Wonderful, she was sure. Now it might never happen, not with Mrs. Van Mayes’s spy living under this roof. What could she do to get rid of her? More importantly, what could she do to discourage the rich widow?

It was a hot night and her aroused passion had only made it worse. She felt the sheen of perspiration on her body. It was only three days until July Fourth and the kids were looking forward to it. Who knew what would happen after that?

Kate stopped off the train in Red Rock, Kansas, and headed for the Diamond Horseshoe Saloon. She smiled as she walked, smug with her own cleverness. When she told Duke where he could find Violet, he would be pleased and reward Kate by giving her money or better yet, offering her the spot as his favorite at the Diamond Horseshoe. Once she had been his favorite, taking Emily’s place, about four years ago. Then she herself had been replaced by Violet.

Around her as she walked down the hot, dusty street, little boys were amusing themselves by throwing firecrackers under horses’ hooves and running away as the angry owners chased them. The Fourth of July was only a couple of days away and the town was crowded with revelers, especially the saloons. She flicked the red dust off her dark traveling suit and walked through swinging doors into the Diamond Horseshoe. It was crowded all right, smelling of cigars and stale beer, scantily dressed young women perched on the arms of gamblers’ chairs as the piano banged away on “Camptown Races” in the background.

She looked around for Duke but didn’t see him anywhere, so she pushed through the crowd toward the bar. Once, men would have turned and ogled her, but now, she got scarcely a glance. There was a new bartender, a fat man with a pale face.

“Hey,” she shouted at him, “is Duke around?”

He hardly gave her an interested glance as he slid a foaming beer mug down the counter. “In his office.” He nodded toward the back.

With her heart beating hard, Kate elbowed through the crowds toward the back of the saloon. Duke’s door was closed. She took a mirror out of her reticule and glanced at herself, tried to push faded strands of red hair back up into her bun. Even with the heavy makeup on her face, she noted the lines and small wrinkles. Well, she was still pretty and maybe Duke would be glad to see her. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before knocking.

“Who is it?” He sounded annoyed.

“It’s—it’s Kate.”

“Who?” He sounded bored.

She got up the nerve to open the door. “Don’t you know me, Duke? It’s Kate.” She gave him her brightest smile as she stood before him, and he looked up and blinked, wrinkling his face as if trying to place her.

“You know, Duke, I used to be your favorite. You called me the Flame from Maine.”

He didn’t remember her; she could tell from his blank expression. “Okay, Flame, what do you want?”

She must not cry. “Aw, Duke, is that any way to treat me? Four years ago, you couldn’t get enough of me before you found that Violet slut. I replaced Emily, remember?”

He blinked. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I think I remember you. You’ve picked up a little weight.”

“Not much, and I can still sing and dance just like when I used to be a star here.”

He stroked his pencil mustache. “The years haven’t treated you well, Kate. What do you want?”

She still had that valuable information. That might be her ticket to returning here. She needed some whiskey bad. “Aren’t you gonna even offer me a drink?”

He sighed and the diamond horseshoe stickpin in his tie flashed in the light of the overhead lamp. “As I remember, Kate, you drank too much.”

“But not anymore,” she pleaded with desperation. “The Horseshoe looks like it’s doing well.”

He nodded. “It is.”

She saw the flash of the pearl handle under his coat. “I see you’re still carrying that two-shot derringer.”

He looked bored and out of sorts. “Comes in handy sometimes. Enough with the small talk. What do you want?”

Any moment now, he’d toss her out of his office. “Duke, listen, I have information that might interest you.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes suddenly bright as a snake’s as he stared at her. “Now what would you know that might interest me?”

She licked her dry lips, needing a drink so much, her hands trembled. “Offer me a drink and we’ll talk.”

He gestured her to a chair as he stood up. “You better not be wasting my time. This is our busiest season, the Fourth coming up.”

“I know, but this is something you’ll want to hear.” She moved forward and sat down across from his desk.

He grunted and walked over to the decanter on the sideboard, poured them both a drink.

She tried not to let her hand shake as she took it and tried to sip, but the need was too strong and she gulped it.

Duke laughed without mirth. “Stopped drinking, have you, you used-up slut?”

“I—I’m just thirsty, that’s all. It’s a long trip up from Texas and they won’t serve women in the club car.”

“Then you should go back to carrying a flask under the folds of your skirt like you used to.”

She held out her glass. “I—I could use a little more.”

“Haven’t changed a bit,” he growled and walked over to refill her glass.

She managed to just sip this one, although everything in her begged to gulp it. “I never drank until I met you.”

“So what?” He shrugged and lit a fresh cigar. “You were just a farm girl until I put you to work in my saloon.”

“And only sixteen,” she reminded him as she drank the whiskey and pulled a cigarette from her reticule.

“They’re always only fifteen or sixteen. I like ’em young. You sure as hell ain’t sixteen anymore, Kate. You look like five miles of bad road. You now working some cheap crib somewhere?”

She waited for him to light her cigarette, but when he didn’t offer, she lit it herself from the silver matchbox in her reticule. “I can still sing and dance, Duke. If I had some new clothes, maybe I could be the star here again.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Not likely. Now what’s this information you have?”

She yearned for another drink, but she dare not push it. “That last favorite of yours, that Violet girl.”

His face changed. “What about her?”

She looked into his eyes and realized he might really care for Violet—or maybe it was just that as she had been the star and favorite whore of the Diamond Horseshoe, he was angry that she had left.

“I know where she is.”

Now she had his full attention. He came over and took the tumbler from her hand, refilled it and brought it to her.

“Duke, I remember when you used to look like that when my name came up.”

He shrugged and smoked his cigar. His handsome face looked bored. “That was a long time ago, Kate.”

“Only a couple of years, Duke,” she pleaded, “and I was in love with you.” She gulped her drink.

“You think I give a damn about that?” he snapped and ran his finger over his pencil-thin mustache. “All these pretty young girls are in love with me when I lure them to work here and then they get too old and I replace them, just like you replaced Emily and Violet replaced you.”

She now felt like she had the winning hand, although she was a little bit drunk. “But have you replaced Violet?”

He shrugged and paced the floor. “No, she was special. Nobody could replace Violet.”

“But you put her to work as a whore, just like the rest of us.”

“Well, business is business. What makes me madder than hell is that I didn’t throw her out, she left. Me, Duke Roberts.” He thumped his chest almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “How dare that little bitch walk out on me? She’s got all the other saloon owners laughing at me behind my back.”

Kate leaned back in her chair, smoking her cigarette, enjoying that she had upset him so. “She left with a man.”

“What?” He wheeled around. “She was crazy for me.”

Kate shook her head. “No, I was crazy for you, but you were too blinded by her big violet eyes to notice me once she came on the scene.”

Before she could move, he strode over to her chair and grabbed the front of her bodice, half lifting her off the chair as the fabric ripped. “Quit playing with me, Kate!”

“I—I thought you might reconsider taking me back if I told you—”

He slapped her then, slapped her on both sides of her face until he dropped her cowering and bleeding back into her chair. She began sobbing.

“Now stop that blubbering and tell me what you know or you’ll feel my boots as I kick you out the door!”

She had dropped the cigarette and wiped her bloody mouth, crying. “All right, all right, Duke, just don’t hit me again.”

He walked over and stomped out her cigarette. “That’s more like it.”

Now she regretted coming here, but she had to tell him. She’d seen what Duke could do to women who didn’t cooperate. “She—she’s in Texas, with a guy, an ex-Texas Ranger, in Pleasant Valley.”

“You’re kidding me.”

She shook her head, shying away in case he meant to hit her again. “No, there’s a bunch of kids and they’re all living as a family.”

“Well, I’ll be goddamned!” He stepped to the door, opened it and yelled, “Slade! Slade! Get in here!”

The sound of heavy boots, music and laughter from the saloon as the door opened and then Slade stomped in. “What is it, Boss?”

Duke closed the door. “You remember Kate?”

The ugly gunfighter scratched his head. “I don’t know, Boss, there’s been so many of them—”

“Never mind,” Duke snapped. “Kate here says Violet is in Pleasant Valley. She ran off with a Texas Ranger.”

“Now, Boss, I told you to forget about that one,” the gunfighter soothed. “Ain’t you got your choice of young gals all coming west for adventure and money?”

“But damn it, nobody takes something that belongs to me. I want her back.”

Slade sighed. “Pleasant Valley? Ain’t that in Texas?”

Duke cursed under his breath. “What do I care? I want her back, I tell you.”

“But there’s a big price on our heads in Texas,” Slade reminded him, “and a Texas Ranger—”

“He ain’t a Texas Ranger anymore,” Kate said. “He got hurt somehow. He works in a gun shop as a clerk. The old sheriff is in bed suffering from a gunshot wound and the deputy ain’t but nineteen years old.”

Duke threw back his head and laughed. “It’ll be like stealing milk from a baby calf. We take the train down to Pleasant Valley, grab her, and who’s gonna stop us?”

“I dunno, Boss, with the Fourth coming up—”

“Aw, Frenchie can keep things running ’til we get back.”

“What about me?” Kate asked.

“Aw, you drunken slut.” Duke reached out and jerked her to her feet roughly. “Slade, have Frenchie give this old whore a drink for her trouble and toss her in the street.”

“But I deserve more than that,” Kate protested.

“Look, Kate, you’re old, and—”

“I’m thirty,” she protested.

“More like thirty-five and you look forty-five. My customers expect young, fresh gals.” He pushed her ahead of him out of the office. “Come on, Slade, we got plans to make.”

She was still protesting and wiping her bloody lip as the trio elbowed through the rowdy crowds up to the bar.

“Hey, Frenchie,” Duke yelled, “give this slut a drink and then throw her out.”

“You owe me more than that,” Kate protested.

“Honey.” He lowered his voice. “You’re no use to me—”

“But I loved you.”

“More the fool.” He laughed and leaned against the bar. “Now take your drink like a good little girl and get out.”

“But where can I go? I was just fired from the Cattle Drive Saloon in Pleasant Valley—”

“Drinking too much, huh? Go back to that Maine farm, you drunken whore, where you should have stayed.”

She didn’t argue, eagerly accepting the drink with a trembling hand.

Now there was a disturbance at a card table. Kate turned to watch a cowboy with too much liquor under his belt stumble to his feet and yell profanity at the dealer. “Damn you, I saw you slip that extra card outa your sleeve!”

Everyone turned to watch and the noise level dropped to a hush as the drama played out. Kate knew what was coming next; she’d seen it too many times in the past.

Duke, followed by Slade, walked slowly across the saloon to the card table, the crowds making way for them. Even the piano had stopped playing.

The cowboy wore a gun and he swayed on his feet as he looked around.

Duke walked up to him as the circle widened, and Slade stepped to one side. “Friend, I’m the owner of this place. You saying my card dealers are crooked?”

“You’re damned right I am!” the cowboy shouted. “He just took my month’s wages from me.”

Duke smiled at him. “Maybe I can buy you a drink, friend, and then you can leave with better luck next time.”

“Why, you cheap card sharp, you know your tables are crooked—” The cowboy tried to draw as women screamed and men backed away. Slade stood next to the cowboy and he reached out and knocked the barrel of the pistol up as the man drew. In a flash, Duke pulled the pearl-handled derringer from under his coat and shot the cowboy in the belly twice.

The cowboy grabbed for his belly, the scarlet blood running out between his fingers as he dropped his Colt and staggered.

“You all saw it!” Duke shouted. “He drew on me first!”

All the customers nodded assent as the cowboy stumbled toward the door, still holding his belly with the blood oozing between his fingers.

“Slade, get him out of here,” Duke ordered. “I don’t want him bloodying up my floor.”

Frenchie and Slade stepped up and caught the cowboy under the arms, half leading, half dragging him outside. He left a trail of blood on the scarred pine floor.

“Now, folks,” Duke shouted, “sorry for that disturbance. Free drinks on the house!”

There was a roar of approval as the men all bellied up to the bar, pushing Kate aside. She looked toward Duke, but she could tell by his expression that she no longer existed as far as he was concerned. Maybe she never really had. She walked outside, knowing she was a little drunk. It was hot out on the wooden sidewalk with the coming July heat. The cowboy sat against the saloon wall, unnoticed by the crowds as his life slowly drained away.