One Texas Night

by Jodi Thomas

  He took her tiny hand in his. “I wish you luck, Agnes,” he said, realizing how much he meant it.

  Just before she shoved at the door, she whispered, “My friends call me Aggie.”

  He placed his hand above her head and added his strength to hers. “Aggie,” he said so close to her that he could feel her hair brush his face as the door opened. “I like that name.”

  Chapter 2

  Hank blinked at the light as he stepped inside. Aggie walked ahead of him and stopped just over the threshold as if too afraid to go on.

  He looked at the two men at the table. They both glared open-mouthed at her as if she were some kind of creature and not human. His fist clinched, and if she hadn’t been in front of him, he might have closed their mouths with one blow. He didn’t care what she looked like; she seemed a kind person who had a right to some degree of respect.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said as if she hadn’t noticed the way they stared. “One of the calves Charlie brought home from the stockyard is sick, and I had to make sure he’d eat before I came in.”

  Charlie smiled a lopsided grin and shrugged as if taking the blame for his sister-in-law’s tardiness. “Once in a while they cull out the little fellows too weak to make the trip north. If I don’t bring them home, I have to bury them behind the lot.”

  No one but Hank seemed to be listening.

  Potter and William bumped heads trying to stand at the same time. Both were stumbling over words.

  Hank stood behind Aggie, proud of her. She timidly offered her hand to each as if these two idiots made sense. The banker started playing with his watch chain and Potter talked even faster than he had at dinner. They were both “honored” and “privileged” to meet her.

  The banker pumped her hand up and down so fast Hank feared he might break bone.

  Potter kissed her fingers while he mumbled something in French. Hank would bet even money that he learned the phrase in Fort Worth’s rough section called Hell’s Half Acre.

  If Hank didn’t know better, he’d swear both men had been drinking.

  “And Agnes, I believe you must have met Hank as you came in.” Charlie sat down, adding only, “He often does business at the stockyard when he’s in town.”

  Aggie turned to offer her hand to Hank.

  “Nice to meet . . .” was all he got out before he saw her face. He’d braced himself for a plain girl, maybe one with pockmarks or scars, thick glasses or a birthmark. But what he saw almost buckled his knees.

  She had the face of an angel, with perfect skin and curly auburn hair tied into a mass of curls at the base of her neck. And, he noticed, the devil twinkling in her blue-green eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris,” she said shyly. “Would you like a slice of my sister’s pie?”

  There it was again, he thought. The sparkle in her gaze—daring him—challenging him.

  “If the others left a piece,” he managed to say. “I’d love one.”

  He sat down and watched her as she talked with the others. He ate the pie Dolly passed him without tasting it.

  Aggie asked the other two men questions, as if she’d been coached, about their life and what their plans were. Hank didn’t try to speak up. His life on a ranch would look pretty stale compared to Potter Stockton’s travels and parties, or the magnificent house Randell planned to build in the center of town. She’d probably be bored to hear the details of raising cattle in West Texas.

  He was proud of his house though. She might consider it plain with the high ceilings and wide, uncovered windows. But if Hank could have gotten a word in, he would have told her how from every direction she could see for miles, and how when the clouds hung low, close to the ground, his home seemed suspended between heaven and earth.

  The banker and Potter found their footing on her questions and began to compete for her attention. They said pretty things to her, flattering her with words Hank could never hope to put together. Within minutes both men were hinting that she should consider marrying them. William Randell seemed good-natured with the competition, but Stockton’s bragging carried an edge. He seemed a man who was used to fighting for anything he wanted, and he claimed Aggie was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

  Aggie listened politely, without comment. It crossed Hank’s mind that she’d probably heard such talk all her life. For a woman who said she liked working alone, the idea of entertaining and the dinner parties that Randell talked of must seem frightening. Potter boasted of traveling with his work and staying in hotels across the country.

  Hank seemed the only one who noticed she didn’t smile. In fact, if he was reading her right, Aggie was one step away from bolting out of the room.

  Hank also noticed that the more she drew everyone’s attention, the sharper Dolly became. It must have been hard on four sisters with the baby being so beautiful. That might explain why the father kept her tucked away in the back workshop. Hank wondered if she’d stayed in back because she was naturally shy, or if the sisters had forced her to remain in the shadow. Whichever, one fact was obvious to Hank. Beautiful Aggie was afraid of people.

  He watched her carefully. She wasn’t believing a word they said. She kept her hands laced tightly together over her frilly dress. He felt her loneliness more than he saw it. She was on display, something to be sold to the highest bidder, and no one stood by to help her. In fact, her sister made it plain that if she could decide for Agnes, little sister would already be packing up her things.

  After an hour, Dolly ended the torture, not for her sister’s sake, but for her own. Dolly complained that her feet were tired and it was time for bed.

  As the banker moved to the door, he held both of Aggie’s hands and kissed them. “I’ll dream of you this night,” he said with practiced flow. “Think of me also.”

  Potter was bolder. He swore he’d fallen in love at first sight and asked for her hand in marriage. He said she was the first woman he’d seen in Texas who would be perfect on his arm, and now that he found her he saw no need to hesitate. Without waiting for her answer, he began listing his qualities and continued to do so as Charlie showed him the door.

  Aggie politely said she’d consider his offer.

  Both men stood at the doorway and waited to see what Hank would say, if anything. Obviously, neither considered him a threat, but they had no intention of leaving him inside with the prize.

  Hank stood and put on his hat. When he walked past Aggie, she seemed so small. He hoped his height didn’t frighten her. She didn’t look up, and he wondered if she was embarrassed by all she told him in the darkness. After all, her family had made her options limited and for all her brave talk outside, she might still have little choice but to marry.

  “Thanks for the meal.” Hank nodded toward Dolly. “And for the invitation,” he added to Charlie. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Aggie.”

  She still didn’t look up. He leaned and unbuckled the gun belt he always wore when he traveled. “There’s a train leaving Fort Worth about midnight. If you’re on it, you’ll be in Amarillo by morning.” He lifted her hands and placed his weapons in her grip. “If it’s a partnership, equal and forever that you want, I’ll pledge my Colts that it will be true.”

  The silence in the room was complete for the first time that night.

  Finally, Charlie whispered what everyone was trying to believe. “You’re giving her your guns?”

  Hank nodded once.

  When William Randell and Potter Stockton finished laughing, they yelled things like, “You don’t give a woman a gun, you give her flowers,” and “Give a ring.” One of the men even suggested that maybe this girl was the first woman Hank had ever been around. Both seemed to be rehearsing the story that they planned to tell many times over.

  Dolly swore at Charlie, calling him a fool for inviting someone so crazy to their dinner. “Waste of good food,” she yelled as the men mounted.

  Aggie stood in the doorway, gripping the Colts and looking up at Hank.
He saw the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty, but he also caught a hint of a smile on the side of her lips.

  They were all laughing, except her. As he turned his horse, he caught a glimpse of Aggie buckling his gun belt around her skirts, and he knew as sure as he knew the sun would rise that she’d make the midnight train.

  Chapter 3

  Aggie didn’t say a word on the ride into Fort Worth. She sat on the bench of Charlie’s old buckboard feeling like she was waiting for her life to start. She barely noticed the cold wind whipping from the north, or the rustle of brittle leaves that still clung to the live oaks along the creek. Her brother-in-law made this trip each morning and evening, so he knew the road well even in the darkness. Five miles was a long way to travel to work, but between her sister and the cattle auctions, she guessed it might be the only silence he knew.

  Hank Harris had asked her to marry him, or at least she thought he had. It wasn’t like any proposal she’d ever heard. He’d offered a partnership, equal and forever. Then, he’d unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to her. And, for the first time in her life, she found she couldn’t say no.

  She smiled to herself. Her sister had argued all the while Aggie packed. At one point Dolly even insisted Charlie Ray stop Aggie from going with the crazy cowboy who thought a proper engagement gift was a gun. But Charlie, for once, spoke up and said he’d had enough. He claimed Hank was a good man and if Aggie wanted to go with him the only duty he saw as his was to see that they were married before the train left the station.

  Hank and Aggie might be in Amarillo come morning, but they would be wed tonight.

  The night air cooled Aggie’s tears as she gripped her hands together in her lap. She’d never been brave, she reminded herself, but the fear of everything remaining the same was worse than the fear of the unknown. She had to go. She had to take Hank’s offer. She had to end the torture of being passed from house to house.

  “I never heard Harris swear,” Charlie interrupted as the lights from town blinked on the horizon. “That’s one good thing about him, I reckon.”

  Aggie took a breath. “Yes.” She had one brother-in-law in Kansas who thought “damn” should serve as an adjective to every noun he used. Not swearing was definitely a good trait, she decided.

  “Though I don’t think he has much money, he always pays his bills at the stockyard. Some ranchers, even after they have the cash for the sale, try to slip by without paying.” Charlie spit a long stream of tobacco into the night. “Paying your bills is good.”

  “Yes.” Aggie guessed Charlie was trying to calm her. Maybe he thought she might jump out of the wagon and run away wild into the night. But, to be honest, if he didn’t hurry she was more likely to bolt and run toward the station. Charlie Ray Tucker was the best of her brother-in-laws and he was barely tolerable. After being passed from sister to sister she’d noticed that all their husbands had bad habits.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to guess Hank’s.

  “If he goes to the whorehouses he ain’t one to brag about it.” Charlie interrupted her thoughts again.

  “That’s good.” Aggie tried to forget all the lectures her sisters had given her, as though each man she’d turned down had been her flaw. She grinned, realizing that accepting a proposal hadn’t halted the lectures. If Dolly had had the time she would have ranted for hours.

  All her sisters thought Aggie was weak-minded. Poor, beautiful, slow-witted Aggie. She can’t cook, can’t sew, can’t remember the time of day when she becomes interested in something. The only way she’ll find a man, they claimed, was to remain silent until the wedding. They barely noticed what she could do, all the things she fixed, how dearly she loved animals. All they saw was the way she hid in corners at socials and refused to talk to strangers.

  Charlie didn’t seem to notice her silence as they passed the pens of cattle waiting to be shipped. He was on a roll praising Hank. “And he’s clean. I swear some of them boys come in smelling worse than the cattle.”

  Aggie nodded as she watched the station draw closer. She had no trouble making out the tall man standing with his feet wide apart at the end of the platform. He must have been waiting for her for over an hour. She thought she saw a slight nod when they drew close enough for him to recognize Tucker’s wagon, but his expression was hidden in the shadow of his wide-brimmed Stetson.

  “What’s your bad habit, Mr. Harris?” she mumbled to herself. “What will I have to put up with?” With a slight nod, she greeted him, realizing whatever his shortcomings were, they couldn’t equal hers. He’d be the one shortchanged tonight.

  Charlie pulled up to the platform and tied the reins around the brake handle. “I’ll go wake the preacher. He don’t live but a block from here,” he shouted so that Hank could hear him. “You two might as well get acquainted.”

  She watched her brother-in-law disappear into the clutter of homes behind the station. For a while she just stared into the darkness wondering what she’d say to this man she was about to marry. Getting acquainted wasn’t easy when neither liked to talk.

  When she finally turned, Hank Harris looked as nervous as she. He offered his big hand and helped her down from the wagon. As his sleeve slipped a few inches up his arm she noticed a white bandage.

  “Are you hurt?” If he’d had a bandage on his arm at dinner, surely she would have noticed.

  Hank pulled his shirt over the wound as he shook his head. “It’s nothing really. Right after I bought our tickets, some fellow I’ve never seen before thought I should have a drink with him. When I said I was waiting for someone he pulled a knife.” Hank brushed his coat sleeve as if the wound could be dusted away. “The doc in the saloon across the street stitched it up for me. He was well into his whiskey, but he did a fine job. He wasn’t much of a doctor and it wasn’t much of a cut, so he only charged the price of a bottle. I was more worried about not being here when you drove in than the blood.”

  She frowned.

  Hank continued, “I think the fellow mistook me for someone else. He was drunk enough that, by the time he realized his mistake, he decided to be mad at me instead of himself.”

  Her smile returned. “I can see how he’d take you for another.” She scanned the length of him. “There must be quite a few men your size catching the midnight train.”

  Hank hated comments about his height, but somehow he didn’t mind her teasing. “Be careful or next time I’ll tell the guy to stay around until my wife arrives to shoot him.”

  “Did he try to rob you?”

  Hank shook his head. “No, just a drunk wanting company.”

  Aggie brushed her fingers along his arm, lightly feeling the bandage beneath layers of shirt and coat. When their eyes met, they both turned away, embarrassed at her boldness.

  He quickly stepped to the wagon bed. “This all of your luggage?” he asked as politely as if she were a stranger he’d offered to assist.

  She glanced at the carpetbag and two boxes tied with twine. “I’ve a trunk my father said he’d ship once I settled. That’s all.” She knew it wasn’t much. Most brides came with all the necessities for setting up housekeeping, but without a mother to help her, Aggie had neither the skill nor desire to quilt and stitch a dowry.

  He picked up her belongings and loaded them on the train. When he returned, she whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” was all he answered.

  They just stood, side by side, as mismatched as any couple she’d ever seen. Her fingers twisted together, she shifted in place, straightened her skirt, retied the bonnet Dolly had insisted she wear.

  Hank could have been made of stone. He didn’t even seem to breathe. They both stared at the few lights of Fort Worth. On the breeze she thought she heard the tinny sound of a piano and guessed the only thing open this time of night would be the saloons.

  “You cold?” He startled her with his question.

  “No,” she lied, pulling her cotton dress coat around her. She wasn’t about to complain
or tell him this was the only coat she had. Her father had bought her three new dresses to “go on her courting journey.” Only, when she’d left for her first sister’s house, it had been late spring. Now, in another month it would be Thanksgiving. Her three fine dresses were worn from washing and pressing, and no brother-in-law had offered to loan her money for winter clothes. Not that she would have taken a single coin from them. All any of them wanted from her was her absence. She was another mouth to feed and something for their wives to complain about. Nothing more.

  She watched Charlie hurrying down the platform. A chubby young man, trying to pull on his long black coat, rushed behind him.

  “I finally found a preacher,” Charlie grumbled. “We can get this done now.”

  The preacher introduced himself as Brother Philip Milton. He shook Hank’s hand with a strong pumping motion. “First,” the young man said, straightening to his full height, “I have to ask if you’re still wanting to marry this lady.” He looked nervous, as if this might be his first ceremony. “I don’t push nobody down matrimony road that don’t want to go.”

  Hank swallowed, then nodded. Aggie wished she could see his face and know for sure that he wasn’t having second thoughts. She wanted to warn the lean cowboy that all she’d ever been was trouble. Her mother died giving her birth. Her sisters had to take care of her when they were little more than babies themselves. Her father carted her to work with him until she’d been old enough to go to school. She didn’t like, or trust, people, and she smelled of gunpowder and oil most of the time. If this man had any sense, he’d run now while he still had the chance.

  Brother Milton patted Hank on the shoulder and turned to her. “You feel the same about him?”

  She fought down a scream as she managed to whisper, “Yes.”

  While the preacher continued, she told herself nothing could be worse than being passed around. At least she’d have a home, no matter how small or plain.