Travis

by Georgina Gentry

  Boo Hoo toddled over and climbed up on Travis’s knee. She was wet, but he didn’t move her.

  “I want to look at your wrist after supper,” Violet said.

  “It’s still sore as a pincushion, but it’s quit swelling,” Travis answered. “I reckon I’ll never be able to shoot worth a damn again—”

  “No cuss.” Little Boo Hoo shook her finger in Travis’s face.

  “I forgot,” Travis said. “Sorry.”

  The toddler leaned her small face against his wide chest.

  Violet smiled at him as she breaded the fish and put it in the skillet. “You look like you’re used to having a kid in your lap.”

  “Not hardly,” he snorted. “Of course Boo Hoo is special.”

  “We ought to give her a better name,” Violet said as she cooked.

  “Growler,” lisped the toddler.

  “The dog’s already got that name, honey,” Travis explained.

  Violet paused. “What about Bonnie? That was my mother’s name.”

  “Where is your mother?” Travis asked.

  Tears came to Violet’s eyes. “She’s dead.”

  “Tough luck,” Travis’s deep voice was sympathetic. “I don’t know what I’d do without my ma. She’d like you, young lady.”

  Violet merely smiled and continued poking the frying fish. “So it’s Bonnie then?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Travis smiled. “What do you think, kids?”

  Boo Hoo laughed. “Bonnie. I’m Bonnie.”

  “That settles that.” Travis nodded.

  The young girl had pulled the crisp fish out of the skillet and fried her hush puppies. They didn’t have much in the way of dinnerware, but they managed. Everyone dived in and there was plenty. Travis leaned back against a tree and watched them all eat. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so satisfied and here he was stuck with five needy orphans and not the slightest idea what to do with them. Maybe in the morning he’d find some good families or a preacher to look after them. After that, he’d figure out what to do about his future, now that he was too disabled to be a Texas Ranger.

  In the morning, as daylight broke and Violet poured coffee, he made a decision. “I saw some people building a church last night; I’m taking you all there.”

  Kessie’s homely little face crumpled. “We’re just getting used to you, Mr. Prescott.”

  Violet sighed and kept making biscuits. “Mr. Prescott is a Ranger, kids, and needs to get back to Texas.”

  Boo Hoo, now Bonnie, wrapped her arms around Growler’s neck so tightly Travis thought she might choke the dog to death.

  “Violet’s right,” he said as he sipped his coffee. “I’m a bachelor and got no use for a ready-made family. That preacher will find you all good homes.”

  No one said anything. Travis felt so guilty he could hardly eat. He knew he’d made the right decision, but then, why did he feel so bad?

  After breakfast, they packed up the oxcart and Travis told the boys to put out the fire. “Man’s got to know about putting out campfires,” he said. “Otherwise, you might start a prairie fire.”

  “I reckon we’ll never need to know that now,” Harold said as he poured a bucket of water on the flames.

  “That’s always good to know,” Travis insisted. “Now stir the ashes and make sure it’s out.”

  Finally everyone was ready to leave. Travis mounted up. “It was down this way.” He led off with the oxcart following him. He tried not to listen, but he could hear little Bonnie sobbing in the background.

  Two blocks away, he came to the people building the church. Travis dismounted and approached the honest-looking man holding a hammer. “You the preacher here?”

  “I am, brother.” The man held out his hand and Travis shook it with his left hand.

  “I’ve got these here five orphans I need help finding homes for.” He turned and gestured toward the group standing by the wagon.

  “Where’d you get them?”

  Travis hesitated. “I found them in Kansas, they’d got separated from their folks some years back.”

  “A shame.” The preacher nodded.

  “Yep, and I’m on my way to Texas. I was wondering if I could leave them with you and maybe you could find homes for them?”

  “I might could,” the preacher said.

  Travis took a deep breath. “Then it’s settled. I’d give you some money, but I don’t have any.”

  “That’s all right, brother, the Lord will provide. Come on, you kids.” He gestured. “My wife and I have a big tent you can move into.”

  Travis mounted up and reined his horse around, passing the children, who all looked up at him. There were tears in their eyes. Well, they would get over it. They were too young to know that they’d be better off with this preacher’s family than tagging along with an injured Ranger who didn’t know where his next meal was coming from.

  As he passed Boo Hoo, she held up her arms to him, sobbing, and Growler barked and ran up and down as if not sure what to do.

  He reined in and nodded to the oldest girl. “Good-bye, Violet. I hope you find a good home with lots of other young girls.”

  Tears ran down her face, but she managed to nod.

  “Come on, Growler,” he yelled and started off at a walk. Behind him, he heard Growler bark and little Boo Hoo sobbing, “No! No! Doggie! Doggie!”

  He paused and looked behind him. He was a lonely man with little company but his horse and his dog, and now a toddler claimed his dog. Travis had never felt as alone as he did at this moment looking back at five children sobbing behind him.

  “Oh, hell!” he muttered and reined Mouse around, headed back to the preacher. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m taking them to Texas with me.”

  “But they’d be better off here where I could find them good homes, brother.”

  He hesitated. “I know, but none of them look happy about it and besides, I’ve gotten used to having them along. I’ll find them homes myself in Texas.”

  The children set up a cheer, and Growler barked and scampered up and down.

  Violet came over to him. “Mr. Prescott, you’re pretty soft for a Texas Ranger.”

  “Hell, I know it. Now get them kids in the wagon and moving before I come to my senses and change my mind.”

  “What are you going to do with us?” Violet called back as she scurried to obey.

  He shrugged. “I’d take you and let Ma raise you, but the ranch won’t support another family.”

  Violet couldn’t contain her happiness. “You’re gonna keep us all?”

  “I didn’t say I was gonna keep you.” He shook his head. “What’s a bachelor gonna do with five kids?”

  Violet felt her spirits fall. “I was just hoping—”

  “I figure once we get back to Texas, I’ll draw the rest of my pay to keep you kids awhile. I’ll bet my ma knows a lot of people and I’ll get her to find homes for all of you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Violet’s heart sank. She had decided she wanted this man for her own and she wasn’t about to be adopted. Either way, sooner or later, her age would come out and he’d be furious that she’d fooled him.

  She didn’t know how she’d manage it yet, but this Ranger wasn’t getting rid of her. She intended to stick tighter than a cockle burr to him. She’d decided they belonged together.

  Chapter 6

  Travis started off south on his stallion with the kids in the oxcart singing behind him.

  “Now that was a damn-fool thing to do,” he scolded himself. “What in hell is a banged-up Ranger gonna do with five kids?”

  Growler ran along next to him, barking happily. “Well, at least someone thinks everything’s fine,” he addressed the dog. “Was you really gonna desert me for a little girl?”

  He reckoned he’d never know. He liked being in control and as a Texas Ranger, he usually was, but in four days, he’d gotten hurt, maybe permanently, collected five kids and an oxcart, lost his chance to claim a farm, and was now headed to
Texas with little money and no idea what to do next.

  Somehow, he didn’t mind so much except his swollen wrist was throbbing again. Maybe that doctor was wrong. He could only hope.

  Behind him, driving the oxcart, Violet called, “Thank you, Mr. Prescott.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he yelled. “I’m still thinking how loco I am. I ought to take you all back.”

  “Don’t say that too loud, you’ll have Boo Hoo—I mean, Bonnie—crying again.”

  “Oh, Lord, I hope not.” He grinned to himself as he rode south, the oxcart bumping along behind. Actually, it felt good to have a little company, he’d been alone so long.

  For the next few days, they headed south toward the Red River and paused to camp and cook whatever Travis could shoot or catch fish in a stream.

  “Boys ought to learn to shoot,” he announced at the campfire one night.

  “What about girls?” Kessie asked. “Don’t you believe in equal rights?”

  He grinned. “You think you’re big enough to handle a rifle, missy?”

  Violet looked up from her cooking. “Oh, Mr. Prescott, I don’t think a little girl should—”

  “Well, now, if she’s gonna be a Texan, she needs to handle a firearm. Who do you think stood off the Comanches out on those ranches when the men were away fighting the Mexicans and the Yankees?”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Violet said.

  “Me too! Me too!” said Bonnie.

  Travis picked her up with his good arm. “Now young’un, you’re too little. Wait a while.”

  Harold made a face. “I’m not interested in guns and stuff like that. I’ve decided I want to be a doctor, a scientist or an inventor.”

  Violet smiled at him. “What are you gonna invent?”

  “What about a horseless carriage or a flying machine?” Harold said. “Somebody’s gonna do it sooner or later.”

  Limpy snorted. “There’ll never be a flying machine.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Travis leaned back against a tree and rolled a cigarette. “They’ve got those telephone things some places and I heard about lights that come on without putting kerosene in a lamp.”

  “See?” said Harold triumphantly.

  “And girls are gonna get equal rights and do stuff, too,” Kessie declared, “starting with voting.”

  “Voting, voting,” babbled Bonnie.

  Travis yawned and watched Violet. She was young, but sometimes, her face and expression looked older, more mature. He’d grown to like her. He wished she was older.

  Why, you dirty bastard, he scolded himself. You’ve been too long without a woman. Next time you hit a town, you need to find a whorehouse. He didn’t have much money. He shook his head. He was skilled enough with women that oftentimes, whores would make love to him for free.

  They reached the Red River and he reined in and nodded to the kids. “The old Red lives up to her name. Look at that water, red as blood, and she’s got quicksand, too.”

  Limpy hobbled to the river’s edge and looked up at him. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve done a few cattle drives through here with my dad many years ago,” Travis explained.

  “I’d like to be a cowboy,” Limpy said. “But I guess with my bad leg, I don’t have a chance.”

  “A man who can handle a horse don’t need two good legs when the horse has four good ones,” Travis assured him. “No cowman walks when he can ride.”

  “Will you teach me?” Limpy’s dark eyes looked hopeful.

  “Sure, I’ll teach you as much as I can, until I find you a home.”

  Limpy’s thin face fell. “I keep forgetting you’re gonna give us away.”

  Now it was Travis’s turn to feel sad and guilty. “Not unless I find you a really good home,” he promised.

  Violet got out of the oxcart and came over to stand beside his horse. “How do we get across?”

  “There’s places where there’s no quicksand,” Travis assured her. “Don’t worry, little lady. I’ll get you and the other kids across okay.”

  She looked up at him and he thought how beautiful those smoky blue eyes were. “Okay, Travis, I trust you.”

  At this moment, she almost seemed like a woman, the way she looked at him, and he reminded himself she was just an orphaned kid.

  “There’s a place downstream, and since we haven’t had much rain, there’ll be some dry spots in the riverbed.”

  He dismounted. “First we got to get the wagon where it’ll float. Then Violet, you ride Mouse across and I’ll drive the wagon.”

  “I—I’m not a very good rider.” She looked scared.

  “Mouse is a good horse, trust him.” Travis stood looking down at her, and she looked so small and soft.

  “Well, I trust you, so I’ll do it.”

  “Good.” He dismounted and put his hands on her small waist, hesitated, looking into her eyes. She put her little hands on his broad chest.

  For a minute, she thought he was going to kiss her, the way he hesitated, and she wanted him to, but that would make a mess of things.

  Limpy shouted, “You two gonna stand there all day?”

  Travis jerked as if his mind was far away, and then he lifted her up into the saddle. “You don’t weigh as much as a newborn colt,” he murmured.

  The touch of his big, capable hands had unnerved her and she hadn’t wanted to leave his embrace. “You’d—you’d better get Bonnie.”

  He nodded and stepped away from the gray stallion. “Sure. She can ride over with you. I’ll bring the cart.”

  “Isn’t it heavy?” she asked. “Isn’t it liable to sink?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll make sure it don’t. Come on, boys, find me a couple of dead trees and we’ll lasso them to each side of the wagon and float it across.”

  As Violet watched, the big Ranger pointed out two sturdy dead trees and the three dragged them over and tied them to each side of the wagon.

  Then he spoke to the kids. “Boys, hang on to the sides of the wagon in case we run into quicksand. I’ll lead the ox.” He took big strides across the sand to the oxcart and took Bonnie in his arms.

  “Doggie,” she whimpered, looking back. “Doggie.”

  “Growler will be fine, honey,” he assured her as he carried her over and put her in the saddle ahead of Violet.

  “Mr. Prescott, be careful.” Violet took the toddler.

  “I’ll be all right, I’ve crossed the Red before.”

  He walked back to the oxcart. “Kessie, you stay inside with the dog and I’ll lead the ox across.”

  “I’m not afraid,” the red-haired child declared.

  “Good, that’s a Texas girl. Now you just stay calm. The wagon will float, and if the current don’t get us, we’ll be across and safe.”

  Growler began to bark.

  Kessie said, “I’m not sure I can keep him in here.”

  “Just hold on to him, he doesn’t need to try to swim the river,” Travis warned.

  He turned and watched Violet knee the horse and start off into the water, holding on to little Bonnie.

  She was a brave kid, Travis thought. Someday she’d make some lucky Texan a good wife and be the mother of some fine cowboys and Rangers.

  “Keep moving,” he yelled. “Don’t stop and bog down.”

  He watched, holding his breath, and after a long moment, the gray stallion had crossed the water and walked out on the other side.

  He looked back at Kessie holding on to the barking dog. “All right, redhead, we’ll cross now.” He took off his boots and tossed them into the wagon, then he grabbed the ox by the halter and tried to lead it into the water. It stopped, not wanting to go. The boys looked at him expectantly.

  Oh hell, now what was he gonna do? He stepped out into the knee-deep red water, and dragged the ox in by the sheer strength of his left hand. He was afraid to stress his right hand yet, even though he thought it was healing.

  He was waist deep now, the ox swimming an
d the wagon floating, a boy on each side holding on to the logs.

  “Hang on, redhead,” he yelled and then the bottom gave way and he was swimming, and urging the ox forward into the dark current. The water was cold as death and red as blood, he thought as he swam. He remembered many a good cowboy had lost his life crossing this river. He saw Violet’s anxious face on the other side and she yelled encouragement even as Growler pulled out of Kessie’s arms and jumped into the water, swimming along beside him.

  Bonnie screamed and began to cry as the dog began to float downstream. “Doggie! My doggie!”

  “Dammit, Growler, you stupid mutt!” Travis cursed at him, but he couldn’t stop now, he had to lead the oxcart across. He swam as hard as he could to make the other side while Bonnie cried and the dog fought the current. Then his feet touched bottom and he took a deep gulp of air, knowing he was almost safe.

  “Here, boys, take over!” he yelled as the ox came up on the far bank, dripping water, and Travis turned and plunged back into the river, going in to save his dog. “Damn you, Growler, why don’t you stay where you’re put?”

  The dog tried to swim toward him, but the current was pulling the brave little mongrel downstream. Travis made a mighty effort and grabbed the dog, then turned back toward the distant shore. He could see all the kids now, watching him with fear and concern. It occurred to him that if he drowned, he’d be leaving five helpless kids out here on the prairie alone, and that spurred him on.

  Now Violet had dismounted and grabbed a lasso off his saddle and tried to throw the loop into the stream.

  “Boys, help her!” Travis choked on the dirty water, hung on to his dog and kept battling toward the shore.

  At his command, Limpy grabbed the rope, made a loop and tossed it. It came up short.

  The shore seemed farther away and he realized the current was pulling him downstream. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. Any other man might let go of the dog and save himself, but Growler was his buddy and he would rescue the spotted mutt or die trying.

  Limpy made another loop and tossed it. This time, it landed in front of Travis and he managed to grab it, loop it over his body.