Twilight in Texas (20 page)

The Wells Fargo office bragged in their advertisements that the Concord Stage could carry nine passengers inside and nine more on top, but Molly didn’t see how. Most passages were booked for six, sometimes seven or eight if at least two were children. However, the children had to sit in seats against the doors, taking up other passengers’ leg room.

Molly bought the sixth and seventh spot for tomorrow’s stage. She knew she’d be greeted with frowns from the male passengers who’d lose their stretching room, but Callie Ann was going.

That night Granny hardly spoke at supper except to mumble comments like, “Hope he’s alive when you get there.” “Wonder where he took the shot?” “If it’s gut, he can count his remaining days on his fingers.” “Some men are never the same after a head wound, but still, that’s better than in the privates.”

Molly hurried through the meal and went up to pack. She had no idea how long she’d be gone, but having so few clothes since the fire, packing wasn’t a problem. She planned to get to San Marcos and bring Wolf back as quickly as possible.

Callie Ann crawled into bed with her, as she had since the second night they’d been at Granny’s. She was asleep before Molly turned down the light.

Closing her eyes, Molly tried to think of Benjamin. Except for the night after the fire, her dreams of him had been foggy, unreal. Tonight, he wouldn’t come to her at all. Worry over Wolf occupied her thoughts.

She thought of the way he’d held her in the shadows, dancing in the darkness, the way he’d hugged her at their wedding, the way he’d kissed her good-bye. She’d never feel passion with him, but there was something warm and safe about the man. She knew without doubt that he was a true friend. A forever friend.

“Be alive when I get there,” she whispered. “Please, be alive.”

She never remembered falling asleep. By dawn, she was dressed. As they stepped from Granny’s house, Charlie Filmore arrived. He’d managed to locate two boxes of medical supplies with the ten dollars Molly had given him. She wasn’t sure what she would find when she reached Wolf. Molly believed in being prepared for anything. She pretended she didn’t notice the boxes were marked with government codes.

“I think I found you a place,” Charlie whispered so Granny wouldn’t hear from the porch. “Not more than a half mile from your store. A real nice house if you got the money.”

“Really?” Molly found his statement hard to believe. She’d circled the area too carefully. At first she’d been picky, having a list of things a residence must have. But after the weeks at Granny’s, any place would be fine.

“It won’t be available until the owner sobers up, but it’s a nice size. Plenty of room for kids.”

“The owner sobers up?”

“Don’t ask.”

She wanted to know how much, but it didn’t matter at this point. She would pay dearly to have a house to bring Wolf home to.

“I’ll take it.” She jumped in with both feet. “How much?”

“Owner said he’d talk it over with your husband.” Charlie had been around her long enough to duck, figuring she’d hit him for what he just said.

Granny moved down the stairs. They’d been talking long enough to pique her curiosity.

But when she drew close enough to hear, Molly was asking Charlie to let Dr. Washburn know she wouldn’t be in for a few days. She then offered him more money for the supplies.

To Molly’s surprise and Granny’s shock, he took only half the money she offered him, refusing any more than what it cost him for the goods. He loaded the boxes in Noah’s wagon and waved good-bye as Molly helped Callie Ann up.

Noah left them at the station. The time posted for departure was eight o’clock, but the clerk told her the stage would leave as soon as it was full. So someone arriving late might find his seat sold to another and himself on the next stage. Or, if it was a slow day, passengers might have to wait until nine or even ten until everyone wandered in.

Molly read the rules posted on the door half a dozen times. The only one she found interesting was number three, which stated there would be no smoking on the stage if a lady were present. Chewing tobacco was allowed with the warning, all in capitals, SPIT WITH THE WIND, NOT AGAINST IT.

Finally, the driver yelled for everyone to board. While Molly helped Callie Ann fold the shawl Wolf had bought her, three men who looked to be salesmen tossed their cases up. They stepped inside without seeming to notice the women standing about.

A woman two seats wide almost had to make a running effort to shove herself in. The girl with her looked to be almost Molly’s age but had the manner of someone following behind a mother. She looked plain and bone thin with sad eyes.

Molly lifted her skirt and stepped in. As she had feared, the only seat left was in the center space between two men. No wonder the men were less than chivalrous. A window seat would be prime property on this long, hot drive.

She lowered the small folding seat that rested against the door for Callie Ann. The colorful shawl made a perfect cushion. The seat had straps on either side to keep the passenger in place should the stage stop suddenly. It seemed to cradle her comfortably.

“I’d like to ride up top the second half of the trip, Momma,” the sad-eyed girl mumbled as she tried to squeeze between her mother and one of the salesmen. She appeared to be layered in clothes too big for her.

“You will only if I say so, missy,” the mother snapped. “I’ll have to check the weather. I’ll not be dragging a sickly child along who rode in the rain.” She flipped the covering from the window. “I swear to goodness, on a cloudy day like this, you’d think it would be cooler.” She shoved her daughter in an effort to gain more space.

“Wish it would rain,” the man next to the girl said, as he turned sideways trying to allow her room. He had black curly hair and a mustache that almost reached his ears. “Cool everything off for a few hours at least.”

Molly watched him closely. Of the three salesmen, he appeared to be the drummer. She guessed the name came from men who “drummed” up business as they traveled. He was flashy, with a gift for talking and an easy smile.

“I’ve always enjoyed a little rain. How about you, miss?” He smiled at the girl.

The mother gave her daughter a sharp look, daring her to speak to the stranger.

The girl melted down in her place, her eyes staring straight ahead. She was taller than both her mother and the drummer, making her look all the more strange as she tried to shrink between them.

“Where will Uncle Orson sit?” Callie Ann asked. Two of the men groaned and glanced toward the door, expecting another person to try to crowd in. “He has to have a place. I don’t want him catching cold from sitting up top in the almost rain.”

No one but Molly appeared to notice how Callie Ann mocked the mother.

Molly pulled the door closed and lowered the second extra seat. “Here.” She grinned. “He’ll be comfortable in this seat. That way he’ll be straight across from you.”

Callie Ann smiled. “He said, ‘Thank you kindly.’ I think he’ll enjoy sitting in a chair just like mine.”

The oldest salesman, who reeked of whiskey, laughed and winked at Molly as if he understood the game. The other two men didn’t seem to care as long as no one took the seat and therefore the leg room. But the huge woman puffed up in disgust. She folded her arms as best she could over her chest.

The stage rocked into action. For a few minutes, Molly thought the large woman wasn’t going to say a word and the ride would be made in blessed silence. But peace didn’t last.

As soon as they were away from Austin, the woman began talking to no one and everyone. “I’d never let a daughter of mine weaken her mind with imagining. There is enough of real life to deal with.”

Molly didn’t respond. Callie Ann pulled two tiny handkerchief dolls from her pockets and didn’t seem to be listening.

“I said,” the woman grew louder, “I said, I wouldn’t allow a daughter of mine to weaken her mind with such foolishness.”

The older salesman who’d winked leaned forward. “Why, ma’am, I would be surprised to learn you had a daughter old enough to talk. You being so young.”

The woman thumbed toward the silent girl. “I got her and two more younger at home. So don’t go trying to sweet-talk me.”

“I’d never tell anything but the truth to a woman so obviously intelligent.” His eyes might be bloodshot from drink, but his tone was smooth as fine whiskey.

“Better not,” she answered with less conviction.

“And may I say,” the man continued, “that it is rare I see a woman with such delicate skin in this hot climate. Peaches and cream, ma’am, peaches and cream.”

The woman patted her round cheek. “I do always wear my bonnet in the sun. Just like I’ve told my daughters a thousand times, the Lord gives us fine skin. It’s our responsibility to take care of it.”

Molly caught the older man’s gaze as it cut briefly to the drummer with the black hair and mustache. The drummer smiled and nodded slightly toward the senior salesman.

The older man paid yet another compliment to the huge woman. In an instant, Molly understood his game. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The thought of warning the woman never reached her lips.

She listened to flattery that stretched further into fantasy than Uncle Orson. The third salesman fell asleep against the frame and snored in rhythm to the stage’s rocking. The shy daughter pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and made Callie Ann another doll. The drummer remained silent, but the hint of a smile never left his face.

By the time the driver yelled, “San Marcos,” three hours later, the bossy mother had bought half the creams and lotions in the older salesman’s sample case. As they stepped from the stage, Molly saw the drummer slip the salesman money. This was obviously a game they played to pass the time from place to place.

“I’ll be getting off here,” Molly told the driver as he offered his hand to help her down.

He grunted without interest. It obviously made no difference to him what she did. He was paid to drive, nothing more.

The huge woman leaned out of the window and then nodded her permission for her daughter to ride up top. The mother glared at Molly. “Why would anyone in their right mind want to stay in a godforsaken place like this?”

“It’s Uncle Orson’s home,” Molly answered politely as she took Callie Ann’s hand and moved away. “He owns a ranch just west of town. Runs a hundred head all by himself.” Molly linked her arm to the air as though she were walking with a man.

She could hear the woman spouting her wisdom about the weak-minded to all who would listen. Molly couldn’t help but grin. The drummer who sold her next would have his work cut out for him.

Crossing to the livery, Molly thought how good it felt to be free here in Texas. Trouble had certainly been raining on her, but at least she no longer had to bear the constant criticism of her aunts. The woman on the stage reminded her of how good that felt.

It took only a few minutes to rent a wagon. While waiting for the stable hand to hook up the team, Molly got directions to the mission.

By the time the stage pulled out across the street, Molly was climbing into her wagon. She’d put Callie Ann in the back with their bags and supplies boxing her in. The child was already curling into a ball atop her shawl, like a kitten at nap time.

Molly took the reins in her hands. Ephraim had taught her to drive a team years ago, but since the war, she hadn’t had much practice. The feel of the reins came back to her though.

Just as she slapped the horses into action, a person from seemingly nowhere stepped in front of the wagon.

Jerking the lines, Molly stood to make sure a horse hadn’t knocked the bystander down.

The girl who’d ridden all morning across from her hurried to the side of the wagon. “I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I didn’t mean to step out like that. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was trying to stay out of my momma’s sight.”

Molly glanced at the dust of the Concord a half mile away. “Aren’t you supposed to be on that stage?”

The girl looked like she might cry. “I asked Momma if I could ride up top. For once, she let me. Then she was too busy shouting at you to notice I didn’t climb up. She won’t know I’m gone until San Antonio, and there’s not another stage back this direction until morning.”

Molly was in a hurry to get to Wolf, but she couldn’t help asking, “You’re running away from home, aren’t you?”

The girl shook her head. “I’ll be twenty this fall, I think. My momma never celebrates a birthday for me so I ain’t sure. I’m not running, though, I’m just leaving home. I’ve got enough money to catch the next stage to Austin, where I hope to find a job. Momma won’t come after me. She always said she’d never look for a dog or child who didn’t have sense enough to come home.”

“Have you ever been on your own?”

Tears bubbled in the girl’s eyes. “No,” she answered. “But I had to leave. Momma always said none of us could make it without her. I figure I’d rather die of hunger on the street than live at home one more day. She won’t even let me go to the privy until my chores are done ever’ morning. She says we’re all too dumb to get married, so we have to live with her ’til we die.”

Molly moved over on the wagon bench. “Can you drive a team?”

The girl looked up in surprise and nodded.

“Then you can go with us, if you like. I have to pick up my injured husband and get him back to Austin. If you’ll do half the driving, you can keep your money and still get to Austin.” Molly had a feeling she’d be having a talk with herself later about being so impulsive, but right now another pair of
hands sounded like a good idea, and she couldn’t leave the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Early. Momma tried to convince the man she married that I was just gonna come early. But he knew enough not to let me be called by his last name when I weren’t, and he left Momma for trying to fool him. The name Early just stuck. Momma married a man, not long after I was born, named Ed Willis, but he didn’t want me using his name either.”

The girl smiled as if she’d just completed the longest speech of her life. She climbed up and took the reins with callused hands. “You won’t be sorry, ma’am. I won’t be no more trouble than Uncle Orson.”