“Give me strength,” whispered Miss Brewster under her breath, then she said, “I just can’t—”
“I’d be so obliged if you’d help me out.” Travis grinned at her. “I’m just a single man trying to raise five kids alone and I think learning under a pretty, smart lady like you would do wonders for them.”
The bony Miss Brewster’s face turned pink again and she appeared flustered. “Well, I might try it awhile and see if she’s any trouble—”
Violet stepped in. “Ma’am, I’ll make sure she’s no trouble.”
“But the dog—” began Miss Brewster.
Travis leaned even closer to the lady. “Ma’am, he’s just a little dog. Don’t you think you could find it in your heart not to notice him if he’s laying under her desk?”
“Lying,” Miss Brewster corrected. “Lying under her desk.”
“So it’s agreed then?” Travis stuck out his hand and took her limp fingers in his. “You’re such a credit to the teaching profession, ma’am, I hope to see more of you.”
Miss Brewster looked both flattered and bewildered. “But I’m not sure—”
“Thank you, Miss Brewster. You’re as nice as you are pretty.”
Violet watched the old maid teacher melt under Travis’s smile. “Well, what is a teacher for anyway, if she can’t help all the children she can?”
Violet snorted, but no one seemed to notice. Miss Brewster was smiling up at Travis like he was Romeo and she was Juliet. If that old maid thought she was going to grab Travis Prescott, she would have to step over Violet.
“All right, kids.” Travis turned to his brood. “You all find desks and Miss Brewster will tell you what to do. I’ll be at the gun shop when you get out of school. Have you all got your lunches?”
They all nodded. Violet stood there speechless and watched Travis walk out of the school, leaving her and the four children with Miss Brewster.
Miss Brewster pointed them all to empty desks. “Now children, introduce yourselves to the others.”
Violet felt like an idiot as she managed to say, “I’m Violet.”
Bonnie was too shy and Kessie had to introduce her. All the children laughed when Harold said his name.
The teacher looked down her nose at him. “Harold is indeed a strange name for an Oriental boy.”
“It’s a good name for a scientist or a doctor,” he answered and sat down.
Houston was slow to come forward, leaning on his crutch. He whispered his name and Miss Brewster snapped, “Talk louder, young man. We can’t hear you.”
“I am Houston, named for Sam Houston.”
The other children laughed and a fat boy on the front row said, “He’s crippled, he don’t deserve a good name like that.”
“He does, too,” Violet snapped. “He saved us from bandits down by the river.”
Houston’s thin face turned scarlet and he sat down while the other children tittered.
Violet wanted to grab the kids up and take them out of there, but of course, Travis wanted everyone in school.
Violet thought the morning passed slowly, but she had to admit that when the town children read she found the stories interesting.
At lunchtime, all the town kids gathered around the newcomers. “You all are tramps,” a big boy taunted.
“And that Chink should go back to China,” shouted another.
“I’m not from China, I’m from New York City,” said Harold as a boy pushed him.
“Stop it!” Violet said. “Stop bullying or I’ll tell Miss Brewster.”
“Oh, you’re just a girl,” another boy taunted. “We ain’t talking to you, missy.”
Now they were crowding around Houston. “Hey, look, he’s got a crutch. We don’t want no cripples in our school.”
Violet gathered her four together and faced the bullies. “Our father used to be a Texas Ranger, so you better leave us alone.”
About that time, the bell rang and everyone had to go back inside, including the dog. Growler lay next to Bonnie’s desk, snoring away, although he awoke now and then to scratch a flea.
Miss Brewster glared at the dog as if she was going to throw him out of her school, then seemed to remember. As the day ended, she patted Violet on the shoulder again. “Be sure and tell your father how much I liked the children. Maybe he can come up to school again and we’ll visit about how much you’re all learning.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Violet said as she gathered up her group and headed out the door. She had no intention of telling Travis anything. Miss Brewster might think she could interest Travis, but Violet had already planned that no single woman would have a chance with him—except herself.
Chapter 8
Violet carried Bonnie as she led the children home with Growler following along behind.
When they got inside, Houston grabbed her arm. “Don’t tell Travis about the bully, will you not?”
“That little rascal ought to be spanked,” Violet answered.
“But the boys will laugh even more if Travis comes up and tattles to the teacher.”
“Okay.” She turned to the others. “Here’s what we do; we don’t tell Travis about the bullies until we decide what to do.”
“What can we do?” Harold asked. “They’re bigger than we are.”
“But not smarter,” Kessie said.
“You’re right about that.” Violet nodded. “Now why don’t I make a batch of cookies and then we’ll clean our home some more?”
“Home,” Bonnie lisped and patted the dog. “Our home.”
“Anywhere love is is a home, right, kids?” Violet asked and hugged each of them.
“We all love you,” Harold said. “I wish Travis would marry you and then we could be a real family.”
That must have reminded Bonnie of their first meeting because she giggled. “Feathers, you are Feathers.”
Oh, that would give it away. “No, not Feathers. I’m Violet, remember? And I’m young, young enough to go to school.”
Houston grinned up at her. “Even with the bullies, this is better than the orphans’ home. You think they’ll ever come looking for us?”
She saw the worry on all four faces. “I’m an orphan myself and no one’s come looking for me, so I think the orphanage has forgotten about you. Now you all get busy with the cleaning and I’ll make some cookies. Harold, bring in some wood.”
An hour later, they had accomplished a lot of cleaning and the fireplace crackled merrily even though it was warm outside.
“I hope they’ll give me credit at the general store,” Violet said. “I’ll walk over and see. You all stay here and clean and study your lessons.” She went out the door into the May dusk and up the street to the general store. The middle-aged man behind the counter was stoop-shouldered and wore his thinning hair combed and plastered over his bald spot. “Howdy, miss.”
“Hello. Remember me from yesterday?”
He nodded and smiled. “How could I forget all them kids? I’m Herman Haskins, little lady. What can I do for you?”
“If you’ll give me credit, I’d like some flour and some coffee, please.”
He nodded. “I hear your bunch moved into the old, abandoned house.” He dipped into a barrel, weighing the flour on his scale.
“Yes, sir.”
“What a dump!” sneered a voice and she turned to see a big, freckled hombre leaning against the wall. He was almost as tall as Travis, but maybe only in his twenties. His clothes were dirty and he smelled bad.
“Now, Leroy, that ain’t polite,” scolded Mr. Haskins. “Go loiter someplace else.”
Leroy ignored him and leered at Violet. “Hello, there, you pretty thing.” He winked in a way that made her nervous.
She nodded and turned back to the counter.
“Don’t turn your back on me.” His tone was threatening.
“Now, Leroy,” said the clerk, “don’t bother the young lady. Can’t you see she’s just a kid?”
Leroy snickered. “She’s old e
nough.”
Violet took a deep breath and turned to face Leroy. “Did you know my daddy used to be a Texas Ranger?”
Leroy rubbed his unshaven face. “That a fact?” Then he turned and sauntered out the door.
She and Mr. Haskins watched him go.
“Watch out for Leroy,” he warned her. “The Jenkinses have a bunch of sons, but Leroy is the oldest and no good.”
“Thank you for the advice, sir.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “Now I also need a small sack of sugar and some cornmeal.”
“Your daddy got a job yet?”
“Looks like he’ll be working at the gun shop.”
The thin man nodded and measured the sugar and cornmeal out of the barrels. “I didn’t see no woman with you when you came into town.”
“She’s dead,” Violet said. “It’s just us five kids and our dad.”
“Such a pity about your ma.” The stooped man took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Give your dad my regards and here’s some peppermint sticks for the young’uns.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think we can afford—”
“It’s a treat,” he said. “Anything for a Texas Ranger. They been defending this state for sixty years against bandits and wild Injuns.”
“Thank you, sir.” She took her purchases and the candy, and went out the door. In the distance, she heard the northbound train whistle as it approached the town. Violet looked up and down the street for Leroy Jenkins, but he had disappeared. She took a deep breath of relief and walked down the dusty street toward home as the train rumbled through town without stopping.
She wasn’t really afraid of Leroy, having handled many a drunk or an angry cowboy in her time. There was only one thing that worried Violet: running into someone from her past. Kansas was a long way away, she reassured herself, so that wasn’t likely.
She went back to the house. All the kids were doing their homework as she put away her purchases. Then Travis walked in.
Without thinking, she ran to meet him and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad to see you.”
He was big and muscular, and she wanted to kiss him. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be a child. She stepped back and noted he looked uncomfortable. “I mean, we all are glad to see you.”
The children gathered around Travis and he picked up Bonnie while Growler danced around his legs and barked. “Well, kids, how was the first day of school?”
The kids all looked at each other.
“Just fine,” Violet said. “It’s a good school.”
“That old, skinny teacher told Violet to give you her regards,” Kessie said.
“Oh, she did, did she?” He took off his Stetson and headed into the parlor. “She seemed like a nice lady.”
Violet followed him into the room and took his hat. “The other kids call her ‘Bones’ Brewster behind her back.”
He grinned. “That’s not nice.”
She hung his hat on the wall rack near the door, where his holster and Colt also hung, and looked at him. “You couldn’t possibly be interested in an old pile of bones like her, could you?”
“Interested how?” He looked at her.
She felt flustered. “I mean, to call on.”
“You mean like a sweetheart?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Not hardly. What even gave you that idea?”
Violet heaved a sigh of relief. “I only thought we all might be so much trouble you’d think about a wife.”
“We’re managing all right without a woman, aren’t we? Now what about some dinner?”
“I was just about to start dinner.”
As she turned to go to the kitchen, there was a knock at the door. Violet went to open it. A thin, homely woman in her thirties stood there with a covered basket. “Is Mr. Prescott home?”
“Can I help you?” Violet asked.
“Well, no, honey, I really want to see your father.”
Violet managed not to slam the door in her face. She went into the parlor, where Travis sat with Bonnie in his lap and the children had all gathered around him. “There’s a lady at the door for you.”
“Oh?” He got up, put Bonnie down and came to the front door. Violet followed him.
“Hello.”
The woman smiled at him. She had a big nose and warts on her face. “Mr. Prescott? Word’s out all over town that you’ve just moved in, so I brought some food for your dear kiddies. I’m Miss Knowlen, the town librarian.” She handed him the basket, leaning toward him.
“Why, thank you, Miss Knowlen, it’s so kind of you.”
Violet said, “I was already fixing dinner.”
The homely woman reached out and patted her shoulder. “And now, dear, you won’t have to. May I say, Mr. Prescott, that it’s very brave of you to try to raise children all by yourself? Mr. Haskins at the general store told me about you.”
Violet said, “How nice of him to be concerned.”
Miss Knowlen ignored her and kept her attention on Travis. “Being single myself, just me and my five cats, I know how lonely you must be. If there’s anything I can do, just come to the library.”
Travis grinned at the woman. “Why, thank you kindly, ma’am. I’m sure we’ll be in the library a lot, studying.”
Violet said, “Yes, we will. Now you probably want to get home before it gets completely dark—”
“Oh, I’m not afraid.” The librarian was smiling up at Travis.
He said again, “Thank you so much for the food, ma’am.”
“Miss Knowlen,” the woman repeated. “Lavinia Knowlen. Remember I’m at the library any time you want to check out a book.”
“Thank you, we’ll remember, good-bye,” said Violet and managed to shut the door.
“That wasn’t polite,” Travis said. “Why, I do believe she would have come in and eaten supper with us.”
“I’m sure she would have, if we’d asked her,” Violet said and took the basket. “Every old maid in town must know by now that a new man is here and you’re single.”
He laughed. “And they’ll be saying my oldest daughter is quite rude. I’d think you’d be pleased to have women offering to take some of the load off you. It’s a lot for a young girl.”
“I don’t mind,” she said over her shoulder as she went to the kitchen. “We don’t need anyone else, do we, kids?”
“No!” yelled all the kids in unison.
“Don’t worry,” Travis said, following her into the kitchen. “She’d have to be something special for me to court her and pretty as a new colt.”
“Now let’s see what our eager librarian brought,” Violet said and opened the basket.
“Maybe she cooks better than you do,” Travis said with a grin.
“You don’t like my cooking?” She felt hurt and vulnerable. Cooking was not her strong point.
“I was just joking, young lady. You cook pretty good for a kid. Now let’s eat.”
The eager librarian had sent a chicken pot pie and a peach cobbler. They all sat down at the table and were just starting to eat when there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it.” Violet went to the door and opened it to a beautiful blond woman exquisitely dressed in light gray silk.
“Hello, dear, you must be Mr. Prescott’s oldest daughter. He’s so brave, raising all you children alone. Is he here?”
Behind her, Violet heard Travis coming from the dining room. “Why, hello, Mrs. Van Mayes.”
“Hello, I was so happy to meet you at the gun shop today.”
“Not as much as I was to meet you.” He gave her that smile that so entranced Violet. “Children, come meet Mrs. Van Mayes. I think you’ve already met the oldest of my children?”
“I’m Violet.” She didn’t smile. This woman was not only beautiful, she had money. There was an elegant open barouche out front with a liveried driver.
A nervous giggle. “So happy to meet you and the other poor, motherless children,” she cooed as the children gathe
red around the front door.
“Won’t you come in?” Travis asked.
“No, I just brought a basket for these poor children. It’s so brave of you to struggle along without a wife.”
“I run the house,” Violet informed her without smiling. “We make do just fine.”
“So brave.” The beautiful Mrs. Van Mayes dabbed at her blue eyes with an expensive lace handkerchief and reached to hug Violet, who stood like a stone, stiff and uncomfortable. “Well, I must be off. We’ll see each other around town.” The beautiful woman waved her handkerchief and returned to her expensive barouche with its fine black horses decked out in silver studded harness.
Violet closed the door and looked at Travis.
“She’s a widow,” he explained. “Came in for some cartridges for her ranch hands this afternoon.”
“I’ll bet the gun shop has never had so much business.” Violet shrugged. “She looks rich.”
“She says her elderly husband left her the biggest ranch in the county,” Travis answered. “You notice she’s still wearing light mourning.”
“Ha!” said Violet. “She’d marry you tomorrow.”
He started back to the kitchen with the big basket. “Well, she’s beautiful—”
“And rich,” breathed Kessie. “Did you see the jewelry she had on?”
“She could probably send you and Harold to college.” Travis smiled.
Violet was stung. “So you’ve already given her some thought?”
“Of course not,” he snapped as he opened the basket. “And anyway, the doings of adults is hardly the business of kids.”
“You’re very, very friendly to her,” Violet said.
“Texans are always friendly,” he said as he leaned over the basket and took a sniff. “Hmm, roast beef and apple cobbler.”
“Wow!” said Houston, his eyes wide. “If this keeps up, we won’t ever have to buy groceries again and Violet won’t have to cook.”
Violet now felt threatened. “I doubt Mrs. Fancy Carriage cooked this herself. She’s probably got other talents besides cooking.”
“Like what?” Kessie asked. “Is she smart, too?”
Travis Page 11
