Texas Tall

by Kaki Warner

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “I know. Services rendered. But I prefer to think of it as a negotiation where each side gets what he wants. Men offer money, and in exchange, women—”

  “This conversation is over, Miss Weyland. Return to your duties.”

  Lottie slouched back in her chair, arms crossed. “Then what am I to do? How do I negotiate this with Ty so that we both get what we want? Becky says all a man needs is food, a dry place to sleep, and a woman to cuddle with. Surely, that can’t be all there is to it.”

  When Briggs didn’t respond, she glanced over to see him thumbing through the stack of mail on his desk.

  “What’s a rogering?”

  His head flew up, eyes round with shock. “Where did you hear that word?”

  “I overheard one of your countrymen use it. He said you needed one.”

  “Good God.”

  “What is it? Maybe if I got one for Ty, he’d be more open to my idea.”

  For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then, in his sternest voice, “I cannot believe a woman as smart as you, Miss Weyland, can be so bloody ignorant.”

  Bloody. Wasn’t that a cuss word? Why was he so angry?

  Not angry. Embarrassed.

  Understanding dawned. As Becky so happily—and often—pointed out, Lottie’s “ignorance” usually had to do with men. If so, then “rogering” must mean . . . that.

  She almost laughed. No wonder prudish Mr. Briggs was red in the face. To have his employees speculating on such a private matter must be awful for a man as guarded as he was. Still, he shouldn’t have called her ignorant. That wasn’t fair. Or true. And it demanded retaliation.

  “Why would he say that about you, I wonder?”

  No response.

  “And how does one present a rogering? Wrapped and tied with a bow?”

  “Miss Weyland.”

  “Do you know of a store where I could buy one?”

  His eyes were positively fierce. “I am not having this discussion with you.”

  Laughter burst out of her. Poor Briggs. He might look as mean as a caged bear, but inside, he was soft as plum pudding. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing you, Mr. Briggs. But you deserved it for calling me ignorant. And don’t worry. I won’t tell Jane. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “You are dismissed, Miss Weyland. Leave. Now. And don’t ever come back.”

  “Of course, sir. As soon as I finish with the books.”

  An hour later, she left the club, her steps considerably lighter than when she’d arrived. Sparring with Briggs always put her in a good mood. There was nothing quite so satisfying as putting a bossy male in his place, even if she came out a bit battered in the exchange.

  Yet, despite the teasing, she had learned something important today about how fragile a man’s pride really was. And how desperately he might try to protect it, even if it led him to make rash decisions and say things he didn’t truly mean. Like Ty refusing her help, or Briggs calling her ignorant. She would have to be wiser about how she handled future negotiations with men. She was just grateful Ty had come back last night to give her a second chance.

  Chapter 15

  The following weeks were busy ones for Lottie. The growing season was in full production in south Texas, and soon trains were heading north, loaded with fresh produce. By mid June, traveling greengrocers had set up booths outside the depot, and twice a week Lottie and Mrs. B. combed through the offerings to restock the produce bins at the store.

  A newspaperman from Dallas wrote a flattering article about Lady Jane’s Social Club and Greenbroke, and before long, business throughout town increased as more and more passengers stopped off for a visit or to try their luck at the tables. Lottie worried how that would impact Juno’s profits, but as he’d said, he and the club catered to entirely different clienteles.

  Increased business meant additional work for Lottie, but she didn’t mind. She had a grand plan now, and needed every penny she could earn to make it work. The consortium investments were beginning to pay off, too, as word of Greenbroke’s pleasant surroundings and easy rail access started bringing in land speculators and folks looking to move. It wasn’t exactly a boom yet, but the future looked promising.

  Lottie still worked at the bank, but only one afternoon a week now. Like in most towns, the local bank was the center of business, and Lottie liked knowing what was going on around her.

  Which was how she found out about the Buck place.

  The Buck and Reynolds families had been among the first to homestead in the Greenbroke area. The Bucks had settled along the east bank of Middling Creek—the same one that ran south of town and flooded whenever it had the chance. The Reynolds had homesteaded on the west bank. For a time they had prospered. But after decades of Indian attacks, bouts of small pox, complications of childbirth, childhood accidents, war, and general bad luck, the two families were down to Delbert Buck, his wife, Nadene Reynolds Buck, and their simple-minded daughter, Ruby. And poor Delbert, with his failing heart, wasn’t long for this world. Worried what would become of his wife and daughter after he was gone, Delbert—who could no longer take care of the place anyway—was talking about taking his family back to Missouri where they had distant relatives.

  Which meant he would probably sell.

  Which meant Lottie was interested.

  She cornered Griffin late one afternoon before the bank closed. “How does one go about buying land?”

  He stopped stuffing papers into the drawer of his desk and gave her an amused look. “You buying land now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “The Buck place?”

  That surprised her. Maybe Griffin did more than nap at his desk in the afternoons. “I might. Thought I’d take a look-see first.”

  “It’s good land.” Griffin pushed the drawer closed, locked it, yelled for Humphries, and started shoving the papers atop his desk into neat piles. “Don’t know what the house is like now. Probably run-down some since Delbert took sick. But as I recall, it was built sturdy.”

  Humphries came in, dressed to leave and looking more sour than usual. Probably irritated at the delay in his drinking plans. “Yes, Mr. Griffin?” he asked, squinting down at his pocket watch.

  “What do you know about the Delbert Buck place?”

  Despite his sullen attitude and the permanent squint that made him look slow-witted, Humphries had a memory any card sharp would envy. He could store a wealth of facts in that round head of his and, when primed, could spew them back out with remarkable accuracy.

  “Just over five thousand acres, including both the Buck and Reynolds parcels. One useable house, two sheds, a barn with four paddocks. Some fencing. Year-round creek with seasonal flooding. Limited timber, but good graze—although Mr. Buck is more of a farmer than a rancher.”

  “Liens?”

  “Free and clear.”

  “Make sure the safe is locked on your way out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After Humphries left, Griffin rose and lifted his bowler off the hat rack. “So there you have it, Miss Weyland.” He set the hat at a jaunty angle on his balding head, herded her out of his office, then locked the door behind them. “Still interested?”

  “If so, what would I do?”

  “Settle on a price with Buck then come see me.”

  “About a loan?”

  “Unless you’ve got that much cash or Buck decides to carry the note himself. Good night, Homer.” He nodded toward the night guard who slept in the barred cell that housed the bank’s safe, then walked Lottie toward the exit.

  “What do you think he’ll ask for it?”

  Griffin named a figure.

  Lottie thought about it while he locked the front doors. It wasn’t a bad price for decent land but it was still a lot more than she had. “Is it worth it?”

  “Depend
s on how bad he wants to sell and how bad you want to buy.”

  Lottie nodded, excitement building. This might be just what she was looking for. “I’ll ride out tomorrow and look it over, then let you know.”

  Early the next morning, following the directions Gus at the livery had given her when she’d rented Daisy, her usual horse, Lottie rode south out of Greenbroke. The day was already growing warm, but the air didn’t yet have that dusty, lung-searing dryness that would come later in the summer. She breathed deep, enjoying the isolation and that sense of freedom she always felt when she left the bustle of town and all her troubles behind.

  Not all her troubles. It had been almost three weeks since Ty had left her with the promise that he would soon return. And still, no word. Perhaps after today, if she got the news she hoped for, she would write to him. The thought made her smile. By putting her ideas in a letter, maybe she could explain it better. And hopefully, it would give him time to get over his initial resistance and think about what she was proposing.

  The eight miles out to the Buck ranch went by fast, even though she kept the mare at a fast walk. She’d never been to their place, although she had seen the family in the market many times over the years. They were quiet folks, bent with age and hard work, and deeply devoted to the slow-witted child that had arrived late in their lives. Ruby was a sweet girl—woman, actually, since she was older than Lottie—and always had a ready smile for anyone who passed by. Remembering her fondness for peppermints, Lottie had brought two sticks from the store, as well as a potato sack of fresh produce for Mrs. Buck, and a tin of the tobacco Mr. Buck usually bought.

  After fording shallow, meandering Middling Creek for the third time, Lottie saw the house ahead. It sat on a rise a quarter mile from the creek and at least sixty feet above flood level, as seen by the debris line stretching several yards above the low bank. Lottie thought it wise of Buck to build his house and buildings on high ground, since the creek had a tendency to flood after heavy rains.

  About thirty yards from the house stood the barn and paddocks and two sheds. The sheds had fenced areas around them—stout wood and poultry mesh. Maybe a chicken house, and a garden shed or pig sty. Both needed work. Rising behind the house was another hill, topped with a cluster of wind-bent live oaks that probably shaded the house somewhat from the late afternoon sun.

  The house was a big two-story box with evenly spaced windows along both levels and a small inverted V roof over the front entrance. Plain, but sturdy. Lottie’s imagination filled in the first change she would make. Since the house faced east, she would add a wide, covered porch and balcony all across the front, so she could sit in a rocker or a bench hung from the eaves, and enjoy the sunrise in the morning and escape the heat on summer evenings.

  As she drew closer, she studied the barn. Barns were almost as important as houses in rural areas and, by their condition, could give a fair indication of the prosperity of the holding. Buck’s barn showed no sags in the roof, although a few shingles were missing and some of the plank siding on the sides would have to be replaced. One of the double front doors had busted off its hinges and several paddock rails were almost chewed through. All that would be easy to fix. What couldn’t be fixed was the land itself.

  And it wouldn’t need to be. Judging by the fat cattle she saw as she rode up from the creek, it was as good as any grazing land she had seen around Greenbroke.

  She tried not to get too excited, but it was hard not to. This could be the place. This could be a home.

  The house had a small front yard enclosed by a three-foot picket fence, once whitewashed but now almost obscured by a riot of day lilies poking through the slats. Sweet Ruby was waiting at the gate, smiling and bouncing on her toes. “Hi-do, Miss Lottie,” she called, waving vigorously. The elder Bucks watched from the small front stoop, smiles of welcome on their faces.

  “Hi, Ruby. How are you today?” Lottie dismounted. After looping the mare’s reins over a rail outside the picket fence, she loosened the horse’s girth a notch then untied the potato sack hanging from the saddle.

  “What you got in that sack, Miss Lottie?”

  “Some things I brought from the store for your mama and papa.”

  “Nothing for me?”

  Lottie pulled the candy sticks from her pocket. “Nothing but these. And this.” She lifted a small rag doll from the sack. It wasn’t much. A sand-stuffed figure in red gingham with yellow yarn hair, blue button eyes, and pink painted lips and cheeks. An impulse buy. But it had reminded Lottie of the doll her mother had made for her that she’d dragged around until the seams split and the stuffing fell out. Nothing to it, really. But seeing the girl’s joy awakened bittersweet memories—Mama smiling and giving the rag doll to her. And years later, Grandpa saying, “You’re too old for toys now,” and throwing the tattered remains into the stove.

  “Pep-mints! And a dolly!” With a squeal of delight, Ruby snatched them from Lottie’s hands and raced up the dirt walk to show her parents her treasures.

  Lottie followed. Once she’d handed over the sack of produce and tin of tobacco, and the Bucks had expressed their gratitude, they led her into the kitchen where Nadene had coffee warming and oatmeal cookies fresh out of the oven.

  While Ruby played with her new doll in the front room, the adults sat at the worn kitchen table, Lottie munching on warm cookies and sharing the latest doings in Greenbroke. Although their place wasn’t that far from town, even short trips had become an ordeal for Mr. Buck, so they didn’t get into Greenbroke as often as they once had. Lottie knew from her own experience how the smallest tidbit of news could feed lonely people for weeks. So she talked until she ran out of gossip and the cookies were gone and her coffee cup was empty. Then she told them the purpose of her visit.

  The old people looked at one another—sort of a sad look, heavy with meaning—then Delbert Buck nodded. “Sure, and we’ve talked of moving back to Missouri. Still have family there. And with no one around here to leave the place to . . .” He glanced toward the front room where Ruby was playing and shook his head. “Just hadn’t figured on doing it this soon.”

  Lottie watched tears fill Nadene’s faded eyes and felt a rush of sympathy. She knew how it felt to leave everything behind.

  Seeing his wife’s distress, Delbert patted her hand. In a falsely hearty voice, he said to Lottie, “You think you can run a place this size all by yourself, missy?”

  Lottie smiled. “Not by myself.”

  “Got a fellow, do you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “He better have a strong back.”

  “He does.”

  Nadene leaned forward, her earlier sadness forgotten. “Someone from town?”

  “No, ma’am. But he comes through now and then. He was one of the rangers in the shoot-out last summer.”

  “A ranger! My word.”

  They discussed the shoot-out and rangers for a time, then Delbert planted his gnarled hands on the tabletop and pushed himself to his feet. “Nadene, why don’t you show Miss Lottie through the house. When you’re done, give a holler, and I’ll give her a tour of the barn and such.”

  The Buck house was as Griffin had described. Worn, but sturdy. The central staircase led up to four bedrooms, although the Bucks used one of them for storage and another as a play area for Ruby. If it was up to Lottie, and there was enough water pressure, she would install indoor plumbing and convert one of the unused bedrooms into a dressing area and water closet.

  Downstairs was a parlor and a big kitchen with an eating area. Lottie liked the roominess of the house but could see it needed refreshing.

  Mr. Buck’s tour of the outside area didn’t show Lottie anything she didn’t expect. The barn held four stalls, a tack and feed room, and plenty of space in the overhead loft for hay. Everything seemed solid. What wasn’t, looked repairable.

  The paddocks off the barn would have to b
e replaced, but the rest of the fencing—what there was—was barbed wire and seemed in passable shape except for a few rotted posts. The well was in good condition, and the water Buck pumped for her was sweet and clear. But the creek was the biggest asset. A ranch couldn’t operate without ample water. Mr. Buck said it ran year-round, and the seasonal flooding wasn’t a big problem unless he was in a hurry to get to town, which he rarely was nowadays.

  Excitement built. Plans raced through her mind. The place was perfect for her and Ty.

  Not wanting to appear too eager, Lottie let Mr. Buck bring up price. It was higher than she’d hoped, but not high enough to put her off. They danced around it for a while then Lottie admitted she only had enough for a down payment of fifteen percent, and asked if Delbert would want to carry the balance for five years at low interest.

  He said he’d think about it.

  She said she’d do the same.

  And that was the end of their first negotiation.

  Lottie thought it went well. She would know how well if Buck made a counter offer she could live with. She would discuss it with Griffin and see if he could do better with a bank loan, but so far, it was looking good.

  As she rode back to town, she dreamed of all the changes she would make. Flowers and a porch across the front. Fresh paint and new curtains. A windmill to pump water up to a tank on the hill behind the house so they could have gravity-fed water for indoor plumbing. A bench swing hanging from the eaves that was big enough for her and Ty to cuddle together on cool evenings.

  She couldn’t wait to write him about the wonderful place she’d found. Then the next move would be up to him. If he was serious about trying his hand at ranching—and her—he would know exactly what he had to do.

  Three days later, Lt. Tyree Benton stepped off the train onto the loading platform of the Greenbroke railroad station, the knot of dread in his belly as tight as a clenched fist. He’d thought about sending word that he was coming, and why. But he was still reeling from shock and wasn’t sure what to say. Besides, it might have complicated things. Or made them even worse. If that was possible.