Travis (13 page)

It was late when he went inside. The house was quiet, but Violet was still awake, sitting in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. “Oh, I thought everyone would be in bed.”

“What went on out there?” she demanded and stood up.

“That’s between us men,” he said and set the shoe on the mantel.

Violet looked at it. “He won’t have to use a crutch anymore?”

Travis shook his head. “Nope, and I told them both to use my last name.”

“It’s all right if we all use your name?” She looked up at him.

He nodded. “All my kids can use it, but of course, you have to make me proud. My family wouldn’t be pleased if anyone shamed a name that’s been around since we fought redcoats by the side of George Washington.”

Without thinking, she hugged him. “And I thought you were going to whip them.” She reached up and kissed his cheek.

He looked shocked and stepped back. “Now, young lady, it wasn’t that big a thing.”

Oh, Lord, had she given herself away? She stuttered, “I—I mean, you’re just such a great dad to all us orphans. I can’t thank you enough.”

He shook his head. “Save those kisses for some young man someday when he’s on his knees wantin’ to marry you.”

“Of course.” She lowered her eyes demurely.

“I’m going to bed now. Young lady, you got school tomorrow. You need to get some sleep.”

“Sure. You go on, Travis. I’ve got lessons to read.”

He went into the bedroom and she sat back down in her chair and listened to him getting ready for bed and remembered how it had felt to hold him close, the taste of his leathery skin and the man smell of him. She couldn’t read. Instead she sat and rocked and wished she wasn’t saddled with this secret and could go crawl into bed and make love to him.

In his room, Travis went to bed, but instead of dropping off to sleep as usual, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He had been thrown off guard when young Violet had put her arms around him and kissed his cheek. Even now he could remember the softness of her body against his, the sweet, warm smell of her, and he had had to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her.

He cursed himself. What kind of monster are you? She’s an innocent little girl and you’re a grown man. Maybe you need to visit the local saloon since you haven’t had a woman in quite awhile. That would stop indecent thoughts about young Violet.

Yes, that’s what he would do. Otherwise, things might get out of hand and he was a Texan. He had to protect this poor orphan child and vent his lust on those slutty saloon girls next time he got paid.

Young Houston wore his new shoe to school the next day. He walked proudly without a crutch and without limping. “My name is now Houston Prescott,” he said and squared his shoulders, “and I’m a Texan.”

Of course the three Jenkins brothers, freckled-faced and tough, taunted him at lunch. “You ain’t a Texan, you’re a Yankee. We can tell from the way you talk.”

Violet stood with the two boys and even Kessie and Bonnie came to stand with them. Growler lay down next to them, baring his teeth at the bullies. “We’re Texans,” she declared, “as much as you are.”

“Yep,” said Harold. “Our daddy used to be a Texas Ranger and he says we’re Texans.”

“Aw, he ain’t a Texas Ranger, he just works in the gun shop,” the youngest one taunted, doubling up his fists.

“He used to be,” Kessie said. “But then he got shot by a crook and he can’t be a Ranger now.”

“Why not?” the middle brother asked.

“Because he can’t draw fast now,” Houston said. “But if you want to fight, we’ll take you on like Colonel Travis did the Mexicans at the Alamo.”

“Sure, unless you’re going to hide behind your sister’s skirts.”

Harold said, “We ain’t gonna hide behind a girl’s skirts. Violet, you need to step away and let us men settle this.”

“I thought you could use my help,” Violet said.

“We men can handle this,” Houston assured her.

“We’ll clean up the playground with you or we’ll sic our big brother, Leroy, on you,” the oldest of this trio, Jethro, threatened. Jethro must have been fourteen or fifteen, Violet thought. She remembered meeting Leroy at the general store and the way he had leered at her. Now the three brothers advanced on the small group, the other children gathering around to watch.

About then the school bell rang and all the children trooped back inside.

The oldest Jenkins leaned over to Harold. “We’ll get you some day after school. I’m Jethro. Remember that name.”

Violet, sitting next to Harold, heard the threat and leaned over to whisper, “You stop beating up my little brothers.”

He grinned at her. “You’re purty and you got spunk.”

She managed to smile back. “I’d like you better if you’d stop threatening my brothers.”

About that time, Miss Brewster rapped on her desk with a ruler.

Violet leaned back in her desk. Jethro was just a boy, but she had been charming all ages of men since she’d been thrown out on her own when her mother died. She could tell the teacher or find out who the brothers were and go tattle to their mother, but that would bring even more shame and disgrace to her brothers, and besides, she didn’t want to take a chance on running into that big oaf Leroy.

At home that night, she decided to trust Travis with this problem and quietly told Travis what had happened, all except about Leroy. She didn’t want to start trouble with that crazy hombre. “The Jenkinses are big, tough boys and they say they’re gonna whip Harold and Houston. I don’t know what to do.”

“You ain’t gonna do anything, young lady.” Travis leaned over and kissed her forehead. “This is something for men to settle. Girls need to keep out of it.”

She was angry. “So I’m just supposed to let the boys get bullied and beat up?”

Travis shrugged. “I’m teaching them to fight.”

“Oh, that’s the way you men settle everything.” She went off to the kitchen in a huff.

After supper, Travis corralled the two boys. “Let’s go out back to the barn.”

The three started out the door. Kessie laid down her book to join them, but Travis paused in the door. “Sorry, Red, this is not something little girls ought to get involved in.”

“Now why not? Aren’t I as smart or smarter than those dumb boys?”

Travis grinned. “Maybe so, but this is for men. Go help your big sister with the dishes.”

The three males went into the barn.

“Now,” said Travis, “I hear the Jenkins boys are bullying you.”

“Who tattled?” Houston asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Travis said. “The question is, what are you gonna do about it?”

“They want to fight us,” Harold said, “but they’re big and tough. I think we’ll get beat up.”

“Yeah,” Houston admitted, “I’m afraid.”

“Well, I reckon even Sam Houston was afraid at times,” Travis answered. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, but sometimes you have to go ahead on even if you’re shaking in your boots. You see what’s right and keep right on coming. Now that’s real bravery.”

Harold looked glum. “We don’t know how to fight.”

“I told you I was gonna teach you,” Travis said.

“You know how?” Harold asked.

“Of course. Every Texas man knows how to fight. Texans been fighting all their lives.” He stopped and looked at his right wrist. The wound had healed. Maybe the doctor back in Kansas didn’t know what he was talking about. “First you double up your fists and put them up high to protect your face.” He demonstrated.

Both boys tried to copy his movements.

“No, you got to double up your fists,” Travis corrected, “like this. Now if he comes at you, you better be fast on your feet and be able to duck and punch.”

Both boys tried to box.

Travis grinned. “Now you come in under his fists and punch him in the nose or kick him between the legs. That hurts like hell and they won’t want to fight after that.”

He had the two boys face off and practice their punches. “No, not that way, Harold. Look, let me show you.” Travis crouched to get on Houston’s level and they exchanged light punches. “Now you’re getting it.”

He brought his fist up to show Houston how to do a right cross and their fists collided.

A searing flash of pain went up Travis’s arm from his wrist and he thought for a moment he might faint. He stumbled two steps and leaned against the barn wall, smothering a groan.

“Oh, gosh, Travis, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Houston’s face turned pale.

He was still having spasms of pain. “It—it isn’t your fault. It’s this damned wrist.”

“I’m telling!” Travis looked up to see little Bonnie standing in the open barn door. Before he could stop her, she turned and ran for the house.

“Okay, boys,” he murmured, striving to stand up straight, “we’re about to have girls out here clucking around and scolding like hens.”

Sure enough, in seconds, all three females were standing in the barn door.

Violet’s pretty face was white. “Travis, are you all right? What happened?”

“Quit fussing over me,” he gasped, “and help me sit down.”

“Here, put your arm over my shoulder,” she commanded, “and I’ll walk you to that hay bale.”

He leaned on her, liking the smell of her clean brown hair and the warmth of her petite body. “It’s just that bum wrist. Houston accidently hit my hand and the fragment must have dug into a nerve.”

She sat him down on the hay bale. “You men! Don’t you remember what the doctor in Kansas said?”

“I thought he might be wrong,” Travis admitted, enjoying her fussing over his arm. Her touch was gentle.

“Well, obviously he wasn’t, so you’ll have to be careful ’til you can have it operated on back east.”

“Which is never,” Travis griped.

“Then remember it can go out on you at any time and leave you almost helpless,” Violet scolded. She looked up at him and he saw tears in those pretty blue eyes.

Houston said, “He was teaching us to fight.”

“That’s right,” Harold chimed in.

“Can’t men settle a dispute any way but fighting?” Violet was still examining Travis’s wrist.

Her hair looked so soft and brown that he wanted to reach out and stroke it, but he didn’t. “Sometimes there ain’t no other way.”

“We’ll practice,” Harold said.

“Not tonight,” Violet snapped. “And such a poor example in front of the girls.”

Kessie said, “I bet I can fight. I bet I could beat up those Jenkins boys.”

Travis shook his head as he got to his feet. “No, Kessie. In Texas, ladies don’t fight. Let Texas men protect you.”

“Oh, ladies don’t get to do anything fun,” the redhead complained. “When I’m grown up, I’m going to change all that. Ladies ought to be able to fight, too, if they want to, besides voting and running for president.”

“Here.” Violet took Travis’s arm. “Lean on me and I’ll help you back to the house.”

“Young lady, you’re gettin’ awfully bossy.” Actually he didn’t need her assistance, but having her close felt so good and comforting he let her help him. Then he reminded himself that she was just a schoolgirl and he shouldn’t like her touch so much.

They returned to the house, Bonnie trailing behind with old Growler.

 

 

The next morning, before all the children left for school, Travis took Houston aside. “You ready for that fight?”

Houston looked nervous. “Yes, sir, but they’re bigger than we are.”

Travis winked at Houston. “Let them start it, but make sure you get in the first good punch. Texans never start fights, but they damn well can finish them.”

Kessie came into the room. “What are you talking about?”

“Just men’s talk,” Houston said.

“Humph!” Kessie put her nose in the air. “I don’t care anyway. I’m just waiting for Violet and Bonnie to get ready.”

“Everyone got their books?” Violet called and the children gathered up and went out, walking down the street, the May weather warm and pleasant. Travis left them at the gun shop and they walked on down the road to school.

Violet was nervous, sure the Jenkinses would pick on the boys today. “Now, Harold and Houston, you just ignore their taunts and don’t fight them.”

“We can’t do that,” Houston said. “We’re Texans and nobody insults us without either paying for it or backing down.”

Violet said, “I’ll tell Miss Brewster.”

“Don’t you dare!” Houston said. “This is between men and you ain’t a man.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Kessie snapped, marching into school and sitting down at her desk.

Violet wasn’t sure what to do. She listened to Miss Brewster ringing the big school bell outside and saw the freckled Jenkins brothers come swaggering into the building. They looked toward Harold and Houston, and sneered.

It occurred to her that Jethro was the most formidable of the Jenkins trio. Maybe she could make him lose interest in fighting. As he sat down at his desk, she turned and gave him her warmest smile and battered her eyelashes at him.

The big, clumsy boy flushed furiously but focused his attention on her. As Miss Brewster started the class, he sent Violet a note down the row of desks.

Making sure Miss Brewster was intent on writing on the blackboard, Violet opened it. It read:
Can I carry your books home from school?

She scribbled back.
Yes, unless you beat up my brothers.

She watched him. He gave her a silly grin, obviously smitten with her, and sent her a note back.
I won’t, but I can’t speak for my brothers.

She nodded and smiled at him. She thought maybe Houston and Harold could handle the younger boys. Of course the idea of walking home from school with Jethro didn’t thrill her, but if it would keep him from beating up her little brothers, it would be worth it.

Come lunchtime, all the children went outside with their lunches while the teacher stayed inside to eat hers. Violet settled herself on the steps with her sandwich with Kessie and Bonnie near her. Bonnie was sharing her sandwich with Growler as usual.

Violet sighed. “Bonnie, honey, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Dog hungry, too,” Bonnie lisped and kept feeding him.

The boys had gobbled their lunches and disappeared around back of the old frame building.

Kessie said, “You know they’re going to fight now.”

“I’m doing my best to stop it,” Violet answered. “Let’s go around.”

Sure enough, the boys were squaring off back of the building.

Violet fluttered her eyelashes at Jethro, the big one, and he stepped away from the circle and started over to her.

“Hey, Jethro, where you going?” yelled his younger brother. “We need you in this fight.”

Jethro ignored his brother and came over to stand by Violet. “You’re wearing a purty dress,” he said and blushed again.

“Thank you,” Violet answered.

“Jethro, ain’t you coming?” yelled his brother.

“You don’t need me to whip them two sissies,” Jethro said, smiling down at Violet.

Violet looked up at him. “It’s more fair that way,” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at her like an idiot, completely smitten.

And so the fight began. The two younger Jenkins boys against Houston and Harold with all the children gathered in a circle, cheering them on.

“I’m telling!” Kessie started for the schoolhouse, but Violet grabbed her arm.

“They got to fight it out or this will never get settled.”