by Janice Hanna
“I’d be happy to help.” Jake shifted his thoughts from the young woman at the window and climbed aboard the train behind Cody, ready to get to work.
First to exit the train was an elderly couple. Cody helped them down the steps and led them to the first truck. Next came a ragtag lot of men who looked as if they’d just been awakened. These fellas didn’t require much assistance, though one nearly tumbled down the steps to the ground below.
One by one they came, young and old—about twenty in all.
“Might I ask for your assistance?” A genteel voice rang out from the doorway.
Jake did his best not to gasp aloud as he saw the dark-haired beauty in the lavender dress. He’d caught a glimpse of her through the window minutes before, but seeing her in person could not compare. Those beautiful blue eyes. That lily-white skin with dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her slender physique. Those perfect lips.
She looked for all the world like that woman he’d read about in school, the one in that King Arthur story. What was her name again?
Guinevere. Her name was Guinevere.
Jake rushed to her aid, for the first time noticing the young girls standing behind her. She extended her white-gloved hand his way, and he felt her hand trembling in his as she took the first step down.
Jake felt himself tongue-tied. “C–careful, ma’am,” he finally managed.
Fine lines appeared between her brows as she gazed his way. “Ma’am?” Her emphasis of the word made him wonder if he’d some-how offended her. She stepped down onto the ground, the younger girls following.
“Well, sure.” He grinned. “You’re a lady. That would make you a ‘ma’am.’ Least around these here parts.”
“Would it now.” The woman’s once-somber expression shifted, and Jake thought for a moment he saw a hint of a smile cross those perfectly shaped lips. “I daresay this is the first time I’ve been called ‘ma’am.’ I felt sure that expression was reserved for older women. Still, there’s something about it that’s rather…”
“Silly?” the little girl behind her spoke up, ruining a perfectly good moment.
“I was going to say ‘quaint,’ ” the dark-haired beauty said. “It’s so…Southern.” Her eyelashes took to fluttering, and Jake focused on those captivating blue eyes. Boy howdy, a fella could get lost in eyes like that. And that fancy dress…definitely store-bought. Guinevere was a big-city gal, no doubt about it. How she’d come to land in a place like this was nothing short of a miracle.
“Well, we Southern boys are polite,” Cody spouted off from behind him. “Our mamas raised us right.”
At once the woman’s smile faded and her eyes clouded over. Jake wanted to elbow Cody but really couldn’t find just cause. Nothing unusual had been said—had it?
The youngest of the three girls shook her head and gave Cody a pointed look. “Our mama is dead.”
“I–I’m so sorry,” Jake managed.
“Sorry, little miss.” Cody removed his hat. “I had no idea.”
“Papa’s dead too,” the youngster added, her eyes filling with tears. “He died six weeks ago.” She turned and flung herself into fair Guinevere’s arms.
Cody knelt next to the little girl and patted her on the shoulder. “Please forgive me. Shouldn’t have been so careless with my words. And just so you know, I lost my mama last year. She was the finest woman I ever knew, and she worked really hard to raise me right, though I strayed a time or two.”
A time or two? Jake chuckled then found himself distracted by someone pulling on his sleeve. He looked down to see the youngest of the girls staring up at him.
“ ’Scuse me, sir,” she said.
“Yes, miss?” He couldn’t help but smile at the innocent face and bright blue eyes.
“Sir, are you a real Texas cowboy?” She pointed to his hat.
“Well, now, I hardly think you could call me a cowboy.” Jake shook his head. He pulled off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Though I do live on a ranch.”
“Do you wear a six-shooter?” The other girl—the one with the inquisitive face—asked as she pulled out a writing tablet.
“A six-shooter?” He fought to hide the smile as he shoved his hat back into place. “Nah. I work for the railroad. We don’t carry guns.” This girl certainly had an imagination.
“The railroad?” The middle girl’s nose wrinkled and she closed her writing tablet. “How can I possibly interview you for my story if you don’t carry a gun? There’s nothing romantic about that.”
“Romantic?” He and Cody spoke the word in unison.
“Yes.” The youngster batted her lashes. “Don’t you see? I’m a writer. And the story I’m writing is about a handsome cowboy who rescues females in distress. When I looked out the train window and saw you…”
“You thought I was the hero in your story?”
“Well, of course.” She giggled. “Don’t you believe in stories coming true?”
Cody snorted.
Jake looked at the little girl and shrugged. “Never thought much about it, to be honest. I’m usually too busy working to read any fanciful stories like the one you’re describing.” Though I surely might be interested in rescuing this fair female in distress. His gaze landed on fair Guinevere, whose cheeks turned pink.
“Please excuse my little sister.” Guinevere nudged the youngster. “She’s got quite an imagination.”
“Annie, you’re just jealous because I come up with great stories and you’re so boring.” The youngster stuck out her tongue.
Annie, eh? So, Guinevere had a real name, one that wasn’t fictional. Jake gave her another quick glance, deciding she looked like an Annie.
“Emily, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, you need to get your head out of the clouds,” Annie said. “Plant your feet on earth for a change.”
“Nothing wrong with having your head in the clouds,” Jake said. “I’ve been accused of the very same thing.”
“Yep, Jake’s a dreamer, all right.” Cody grinned. “You should hear some of his big ideas.”
Jake gave Cody a warning look. Then he glanced at the little girl who’d riddled him with questions. “If it makes you feel any better about my current lack of weaponry, I’ve been known to carry a rifle during hunting season. My aim’s not very good, though.”
“What he’s trying to say is that he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn,” Cody threw in.
Jake elbowed him but tried not to lose his composure. Why did everyone feel like he deserved to be the brunt of every joke? A sigh threatened to erupt, but he shoved it back. No point in getting riled up. Better to just play along.
The little girl turned her attention to Cody. “Ooh, I’ll bet you’re a real cowboy.”
“Nah, I work for the railroad too,” he said.
Her expression soured.
“Don’t fret,” Jake said. “Where we’re taking you, there are cowboys aplenty. More than enough for any of your stories. And all their names start with J.”
“They do?” The little girl’s eyes brightened.
“Yep.” He grinned. “The O’Farrell brothers: John, Joseph, Jeremiah, Jedediah…and then there’s me—Jake.”
“And trust me when I say that all of Jake’s brothers will be perfectly willing to tell you why they should be the hero in your story,” Cody threw in and then laughed.
“Yes, my brothers love to play the role of hero.” The words didn’t sit well on Jake’s tongue, and he wished he could take them back. His brothers did enjoy getting the attention for their good deeds. Saving the ranch after their father’s death, for instance. And having the largest herd of cattle in Groom.
Thankfully the youngsters took to chatting again, freeing Jake to think about the beautiful dark-haired distraction next to him—Annie. From what he could gather, she was the older sister to the two younger ones. She seemed to be doing a fine job of tending to them, too, though she certainly had her hands full. Jake couldn’
t help but feel sad about her recent loss. To think these girls had parted with both mother and father…
He suddenly felt very protective of the ladies—one in particular. And the sooner he got them back to O’Farrell’s Honor, the better.
Chapter Five
Wondering where all the good, neighborly folk have gone? Why, they’re living in the Texas Panhandle, of course. The men and women in this area are ruggedly independent but always seem to wear a smile, even in the toughest of times. Their determination hasn’t kept them from helping folks who are new to the area. Indeed, they tend to newcomers with a gentle spirit that puts folks at ease. Need a new barn? No problem. Your Panhandle neighbors will lend a helping hand. Pining for a tall tale but don’t know where to find one? Visit any of the ranchers who’ve been around awhile. They’ll tickle your ears with exaggerated stories. Best of all, these friendships can be had at no cost. Link arms with your neighbors today…in the Texas Panhandle. —“Tex” Morgan, reporting for the Panhandle Primer
Most of the passengers from the train were loaded onto company trucks, but Jake helped the beautiful young woman and her sisters board Cody’s Model T. He sent up a prayer of thanksgiving when Guinevere accepted his offer to take the seat up front. Jake coaxed Cody into letting him take the wheel so that he could settle into the spot next to her, and Cody slipped into the backseat with the two younger girls.
“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful,” Anne said, with her eyes fixed on the train, “but would you mind telling me where we’re going exactly?”
“To my family’s ranch—O’Farrell’s Honor. I hope that settles well with you.”
“A real Texas ranch?” Emily’s voice sounded from behind him. “Oh, this is perfect. I can study the ranch for my story. What a lovely interruption! Simply serendipitous.”
“That’s a mighty big word for such a small girl,” Cody said. “You must’ve had quite an education in…where are you from, again?”
“We’re from Denver,” she explained. “And besides, a true writer is a wordsmith. My schoolteacher said I have the vocabulary of a collegiate.”
Anne turned to look back at her sister, her gaze first lingering on Jake for a moment. “If only her humility matched the level of her vocabulary. Now that would be something.”
“Maybe they were so busy teaching her to be a collegiate that they left out the lessons on humility.” Jake quirked a brow and tried not to chuckle aloud.
Emily leaned forward between Anne and Jake and stuck out her tongue. “For your information, I’m ten times smarter than the both of you put together. And I’ll prove it too. Ask me anything you like about history or mathematics and I’ll answer.”
“See what I mean?” Anne looked at Jake and shook her head. “She could stand an extra portion of humble pie.”
“My mother’s the best pie baker in the county,” Jake said with a smile. “She’s a shoo-in at the county fair each fall. We’ll have to ask her to pack up her best humble pie and serve it in hefty slices.”
“It’s a real pie?” the youngest child’s voice rang out from the backseat.
“He’s just teasing you, honey.” Annie turned back to face her littlest sister. “There’s no such thing as humble pie. At least, not that you can actually eat.”
Kate lit into a story about pie, which led Emily to a story about a chef in London who murdered people for fun on the side. Jake tried not to chuckle as Emily’s story grew more animated. Cody played along by coming up with a story equally as dramatic.
Jake turned his attention to the beautiful young woman seated next to him, thankful Cody was keeping the sisters occupied. “So, your name is Annie, then?”
“It’s Anne, but my sisters have nicknamed me Annie. My father called me Anne. And my friends…” She paused and shook her head, making him wonder what words might’ve come next.
“I’m Jake O’Farrell,” he said. “Should’ve made proper introductions earlier. My mama would be embarrassed that I swooped you up without so much as a how-do-you-do.”
“This whole thing has been rather startling.” Anne began to fan herself with her hand. “One minute we were on our way to Dallas, the next we’re detained in…” She paused and looked out at the fields. “What did you say this place is called?”
“Groom.” Jake deliberately slowed the car’s pace so the drive would take longer. “Pride of the Panhandle.”
“I read a story about the Panhandle while we were aboard the train,” Anne said. “Seemed a bit exaggerated, if I do say so myself.”
“Must’ve been Tex Morgan’s column.” Jake grinned. “He’s a reporter from Amarillo. Comes through Groom every now and again when he’s working on a story. Seems nice enough, and I hear he has a wonderful family.”
From behind them, Emily’s voice rang out. “I’m going to be a writer too, Annie. Tell him.”
Anne turned to Jake and shrugged. “My sister is of the firm opinion that her stories are going to make her famous.”
“Yes, I recall hearing something about handsome cowboys,” Cody said.
“The story I’m writing now is going to be the best one ever.” Emily paused. “Just out of curiosity, are there Indians in this part of the country?”
“Indians?” Jake shrugged. “Well, there’s a Tonkawa reservation a ways east of here. And every now and again you’ll see an Indian come through.”
“Are they wild?” Her voiced sounded animated. “Do they attack when you least suspect it?”
“Attack?” He chuckled. “Well, the last time I was attacked by an Indian, I was six years old and my older brothers had dressed themselves up and put war paint on their faces. They converged on me when I was eating my oatmeal at the breakfast table. As you can plainly see, I lived to tell about it.” He glanced back at her.
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped forward. “That’s too bad.” She looked at the littlest girl. “Guess an Indian attack is out of the question.”
“You were hoping for one?” he asked.
“Well, sure.” Her voice grew more animated. “There’s nothing like a good Indian attack. ’Cause then the cowboys can come to the rescue.”
“I’m tired of Indian stories,” the youngest sister chimed in. “I told Emily that the heroine in this story should have dysmentary.”
“Dysmentary?” Cody laughed.
“She means dysentery,” Anne said.
Kate rolled her eyes. “Yes, but Emily says dysmentary isn’t romantic enough.”
“Ah. So I should be on the lookout for a romantic disease, then?” Cody asked.
“Yes, please.” Emily began yet another story, this one involving bubonic plague.
Jake tried to listen but found himself distracted. He could hardly wait to introduce these three to his mother. The youngest was a cute as a pixie with her dark curls. And Emily…well, he’d never met anyone quite like her. The oldest one, Anne, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever clapped eyes on. His thoughts drifted to her, and he wondered why she and her younger sisters were aboard the train to Dallas in the first place.
From behind him, Emily’s story slowed. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned his head a bit.
“Want me to teach you how to cheat at cards?”
“You’re a card cheat?” Cody sounded a bit taken aback by this revelation.
Jake glanced over at Anne, who rolled her eyes.
“The best in Denver County.” Emily released a dramatic sigh. “Not that I live in Denver County anymore.”
“And who, pray tell, taught you to cheat at cards?” Jake asked.
“Wild Eyed Joe.”
Jake shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
“You don’t read ‘Wild West Adventures’ in The Spirit of Colorado magazine?”
“Nope. Guess we don’t get that one around here.”
“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing. Wild Eyed Joe goes from town to town, making hundreds of dollars off unsuspecting card players. He’s very good at what he does.”
She paused. “I don’t think Papa was a very good card player. He gambled away all our money. Least, that’s what Uncle Bertrand says. So I figure if I practice, I can win it all back in a poker game.” She paused. “Do you play poker?”
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head, trying to hold back a laugh. “My father was never one for card playing, so I’ve never been taught.”
“Just leave it to me, then.” She leaned over and whispered, “I have a deck of cards in my handbag. Wait till you see how I shuffle. I’m the fastest you’ve ever seen.”
“Merciful heavens.” Anne fanned herself. “How you do go on. Jake, please ignore my little sister. She’s never played poker and wouldn’t know the first thing about cheating at cards. This is all part of some story she’s writing.”
“That’s what she thinks.” Emily giggled. “Just wait till later when she’s gone to bed and I’ll show you the cards. I’ll teach you to play too. And then I’ll win every hand. Watch and see. I’ll rob you blind.”
“I’ll have to be on my guard, then.” Jake nodded. “Wouldn’t want to be taken by a child.”
“I’m not a child.” She grunted. “I just turned ten three months ago—March 18.”
Jake bit back a chuckle and tried to keep his voice steady. “So, tell me more about this Wild Eyed Joe character and why he’s your hero.”
As the youngster dove into another of her stories, Jake turned his attention back to the road. Well, mostly to the road. Out of the corner of his eye he kept a watchful eye on the beautiful woman to his right. Her gaze rarely shifted from the plains surrounding them. Likely she was enraptured by the beauty of the area. Or maybe she was just too shy to glance his way. Either way, he planned to garner her attention before the day was over. And there would be no card cheating or Indian attacks to accomplish the feat, either. No, he would go about it the old-fashioned way. He would work double-time to catch her eye. If he could just figure out how, exactly, that was done.
