Hill Country Cattleman

by Laurie Kingery

  Violet turned back to Mrs. Detwiler, hoping her expression was void of the aggravation she felt at the other girl’s making off with the cowboy before she’d even had a proper chance to talk with him. “As I was about to say, I enjoyed your preacher’s sermon very much. Such an eloquent exploration of God’s love. I shall look forward to hearing him again.”

  “Yes, our Gil’s a chip off the old block, right enough. Wish ya could’ve heard his father preach.” She paused, then said, “Now, Miss Violet, don’t you mind that Ella Justiss. She came to Simpson Creek with next t’ nothing and she’s a bit lonely, but she’ll find her way eventually, same as we all do if we keep seekin’ the Lord. And that Raleigh, he’s not one to let the wrong woman lasso him.”

  Violet blinked. Had the old woman seen a lot more than Violet had wanted to reveal?

  She shrugged elaborately. “Oh, it doesn’t matter to me. We were merely exchanging pleasantries.”

  Mrs. Detwiler had a knowing look in her eye and seemed as if she were about to say something more on the subject, but just then Milly came back carrying her son at her hip.

  “How’re you, Mrs. Detwiler? Violet, we’d better head home. Nicky’s getting fussy, and I need to start dinner.”

  Violet gratefully made her escape before the old woman could say anything else. Surely there would be plenty of other opportunities to encounter Raleigh and glean material for her manuscript. Now that she knew Raleigh had a lady love in town, it would be a lot easier to remember that she, too, had a sweetheart elsewhere. No doubt Gerald was spending his Sunday missing her, so perhaps she should spend the afternoon writing him a long, loving letter.

  But later, when she sat with pen in hand, hovering over stationery with the engraved Greyshaw coat of arms, she couldn’t decide what to say. Her mind kept replaying images of Raleigh walking away with Ella’s hand on his arm.

  Chapter Seven

  Raleigh strolled down the boardwalk with Ella clinging to his arm like one of the morning glory vines twining up the porch rail at the ranch house. He’d have just about stood on his head to have avoided walking down Main Street with this girl hanging on him as if they were a sparking couple, but to have flat out refused to escort her would have been ungentlemanly and unkind. And the way Ella’s lower lip had jutted out every time she looked at Miss Violet, it might have precipitated a scene. He had to wonder how these two had gotten off on the wrong foot, but he wasn’t about to ask. Fussing females were worse than two mama longhorns with a one-day-old calf between them.

  He had to admit he was a little perturbed at the Englishwoman himself, after hearing her answer to his and Mrs. Detwiler’s question about her opinion of the service. Granted, Mrs. D. had changed the angle of the question somewhat when she asked Miss Violet to compare the church and the service to what she was used to at home. But it was pretty clear from how Miss Violet had answered that she thought the Simpson Creek church was just a rude little shack compared to her English house of worship. She’d concentrated on the physical characteristics of the buildings, never answering his question about what she thought about the service itself, and whether it had touched her heart at all.

  Now, it hadn’t been that long since the Lord had shown up in Raleigh’s life on the trail and changed him from the inside out, but he’d made it his business, as soon as they reached Abilene, to hunt up a parson in that wild cow town and have a long talk with him about how the new Raleigh Masterson should conduct himself. Something that had stuck in his mind was that if he ever wanted to settle down, he wouldn’t have much in common anymore with a woman who wasn’t interested in spiritual things and didn’t walk with the Lord.

  Was it possible Miss Violet Brookfield had no spiritual side to her? Was it possible that this lady was only beautiful on the outside, no matter how fascinating she was, with their mutual interest in horses and her aspiration to write novels?

  Well, hadn’t he already figured out that she wasn’t for him? She wouldn’t be in Texas all that long, and she’d told him her heart belonged to another. This was just one more sign from the Lord that Violet Brookfield was not meant for him, wasn’t it? Who knew if any woman was, for that matter? He’d probably be bunking with the other hands the rest of his days.

  But surely it was wrong to assume he knew the state of Violet’s soul from what little he had heard her say. Thanks to Ella’s maneuvering, he’d been forced to leave before Violet had finished answering the question. Maybe, if he ever got another opportunity to speak to her alone, he should probe further as to what she believed. As a believer, he was supposed to care about the lost, wasn’t he?

  “Well, here we are, Raleigh. Thank you for walking with me. You’ll come in and have some of Cook’s chicken ’n’ dumplings, won’t you?” Ella said.

  He was startled to see that she was right. They’d walked from the church to the hotel, and he hadn’t so much as commented on the weather to Ella. Talk about ungentlemanly behavior....

  Still, he didn’t want Ella to read more significance into his escorting her than he meant. “Oh, I don’t know, Miss Ella,” he began, “I’ve got a powerful lot of chores waiting for me at Colliers’ Roost. I should probably head back home.” Cook had probably left him some beans and biscuits, so it wasn’t as if he’d go hungry till supper.

  Ella looked like a child suddenly deprived of a peppermint stick. “Oh, come on, you shouldn’t have to work so hard on the Sabbath,” she pleaded. “Chicken and dumplings are the special, and it’s only two bits. I can treat if you’re short on cash.”

  “No, it’s not that,” he said. He was maybe the only man who’d gone on the trail drive, except Nick, who hadn’t spent most of his pay already. But he couldn’t think of any truthful excuse that wouldn’t hurt Ella’s already tender feelings. And besides, if he left now he and Blue would no doubt catch up to the slower-moving buckboard carrying the Brookfields home, and then he’d have to rein in and attempt to make further conversation with Violet and the rest. He might as well eat at the hotel and make one person happy, at least.

  “All right, sure,” he said, holding the door open for Ella. “Fetch me a plate of the chicken and dumplings, and make it pronto,” he said with mock-fierceness.

  Ella giggled.

  Knowing he was probably making a mistake by giving in, he followed her inside the restaurant.

  * * *

  “I’ll swing by after the council meeting is over and see if you ladies are done, Vi,” Nick said while Violet tied Lady to the hitching rail in front of the church. Nick had offered to hitch up the buckboard, but Violet had found the prospect of riding the mare far preferable to a lurching, jolting ride over the rutted road in the buckboard. Now, she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right choice. She’d certainly enjoyed the brisk gallop over the first mile or two, followed by a relaxing walk to cool down the horses, but did she smell of horse as a result? She’d worn a pretty blouse with ruffles at the neck, but would the ladies of the Spinsters’ Club look down on her because of her divided skirt, or the way the wind had tousled the ends of her pulled-back hair, despite the hat she’d worn? Well, there was no help for it now, Violet supposed.

  She was a member of a noble family whose name went back to the supporters of William the Conqueror as well as Saxon royalty, Violet reminded herself. The prospect of meeting with a few ladies shouldn’t intimidate her. She waved to Nick, straightened her shoulders and headed for the door.

  Maude’s greeting did much to dispel her nervousness.

  “Come in, come in! I’m so glad you agreed to join us,” she said, rising from her seat in a circle of chairs and beckoning Violet toward them. “Now, I know you’ve met Sarah Walker, Faith Chadwick and Kate Patterson,” she said, indicating them, “but I think there were a few you didn’t meet on Sunday.” She turned to the others. “Ladies, I knew you wouldn’t mind if I asked Violet to join us while she was visiting her
e. I’ll introduce Violet to the ones she hasn’t met. Louisa’s our schoolmarm, and cousin to Caroline Wallace, at Colliers’ Roost,” Maude said, gesturing toward a pretty, slender woman with light brown hair and twinkling blue eyes.

  “And Prissy is the wife of Sheriff Bishop, and daughter of our mayor.” The strawberry blonde with the interesting name beamed at Violet from her chair. She held a sleeping baby in her arms.

  Maude indicated the last lady, who had black hair and striking gray eyes that matched her dress. “Jane Jeffries is the sister of our telegrapher, Mr. Jewett, and she works at the telegraph office, too, now that her boys are old enough not to burn the house down when she’s not there,” she said with a wink. “As you can see, we’re a mixed group of single ladies and some of those who’ve made their matches. Others have moved away or, like your sister-in-law and Caroline Wallace, live too far away and can’t join us as often as they’d like.” Maude beckoned Violet toward one of two remaining empty chairs, then paused. “Does anyone know if Ella Justiss is planning on coming?”

  Violet suppressed a groan as she took her seat. She had enjoyed the sense of welcome the ladies extended, and no one had looked askance at her riding skirt. But the waitress was a member of this group, too? It seemed she could not avoid her nemesis.

  As if on cue, the door was thrown open and Ella Justiss dashed in, untying her apron as she came. “Sorry I’m late!” she cried. “We had some late diners and Cook wouldn’t let me leave until every last dish was washed, dried and ready for sup—” She stopped speaking when she spotted Violet.

  Yes, I’m here, and you’re going to have to sit next to me, Ella, Violet thought, grimly resolving to be pleasant and civil, no matter what the other girl did. She pasted a determined smile on her face as Ella, unsmiling, took her seat beside Violet.

  Ella looked at nothing in particular and sniffed. “Smells like a barn in here.”

  “Ella,” Maude began, “have you met Miss Violet Brookfield, visiting with her brother?”

  “Yes, we met at the mercantile,” Ella said shortly, eyes trained at Maude as if she couldn’t bear the sight of Violet. “Can we get started with the meeting? I’ve only got a little time before I have to be back at work for the supper crowd.”

  Ella looked down at her shoes after saying this, so she missed Maude’s raised eyebrows and the apologetic look Maude and two or three others shot toward Violet.

  “Very well,” Maude said. “Before we go on to a discussion of the event we’re planning, I want to pass around a letter from Polly Shackleford Henshaw. She’s one of our recent brides,” she explained to Violet, then turned to the others. “She sounds blissfully happy with her new husband in Austin. They’re just settling his affairs there and planning to move back to Simpson Creek as soon as the house and druggist’s shop are sold.”

  There was a spattering of applause, and smiles exchanged by the members. All for one, one for all, Violet thought, like the musketeers Dumas had written about. Evidently the spinsters were a close-knit group, and spiteful Ella an anomaly.

  “Now, as to our summer barbecue, to be held on the lawn at Gilmore House Saturday after next, or in the ballroom in case of rain. Do we have a report from the correspondence chairwoman?”

  Jane Jeffries stood and waved a sheaf of letters. “I’ve had notes, which I’ll pass around, indicating interest from bachelors in and around Lampasas, Mason, Llano and Gillespie counties.”

  Murmurs of satisfaction arose around the circle.

  “Hopefully there will be more than the usual cowboys who show up for a good time and good food and have no intention of settling down,” Maude commented drily.

  “Amen to that,” commented Louisa Wheeler, and Violet saw nods of agreement among the ladies. Apparently men were much the same the world over, Violet thought, whether they were rough cowboys or the bored scions of dukes, earls and baronets. She wondered suddenly if Raleigh fell into that group and was dedicated to avoiding matrimony. Or perhaps it was merely that cowboys didn’t have the means to get married and provide for a wife and family.

  “I trust we may count upon your cousin Anson as usual, Prissy?” Maude asked, turning to the strawberry blonde with the baby.

  Prissy chuckled and rolled her eyes. “I imagine so. He always likes our parties, so I expect he’ll show up, especially after he hears we have a beautiful new, if temporary, member,” she said, grinning at Violet. “He’ll positively salivate when he hears you talk, Violet, but you mustn’t believe a word he says. We’re all onto his ploys here.”

  There were confirmatory chuckles all around, and Violet was pleased to be included in their repartee. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye, however, confirmed that Ella’s jaw was tight and her lips thinned into a straight line. She resents the attention paid to the newcomer. Violet sighed, wondering if there was anything she could do to erase the tension between them.

  “And now, from the music committee?” Maude went on. Louisa Wheeler reported that they had secured a fiddler and a caller—whatever a caller was, Violet thought—and mentioned both men by name.

  Maude next called for the food chairwoman’s report.

  To Violet’s surprise, Ella popped up. “The hotel’s furnishing the food, courtesy of Mayor Gilmore,” the girl said flatly, and sat back down.

  There was enthusiastic applause by the rest of the members and the corners of Ella’s mouth twitched, but never quite formed a smile.

  “Ella, are you going to get off work to come?” Maude asked. “Surely your boss will allow you, since the hotel’s profiting from the event.”

  The girl shrugged her thin shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t have nothin’ special to wear, even if I do get the night off.”

  There were immediate offers from the other ladies to lend her a dress, though not many were as short and thin as she was. Ella didn’t seem excited by any of the prospects, and Violet thought she understood this, at least. Wouldn’t any woman prefer a dress of her own, one she could keep?

  That, at least, I can do something about, Violet thought. She’d been left with ample funds and could well afford to perform a bit of charity. It would have to be a secret gift, Violet knew. She guessed Ella would rather leave town than accept anything from her. She’d have to see Kate Patterson and get the girl to take some money from her to provide Ella with money for a new dress length of fabric—and some extra to have the dress made, if Ella wasn’t handy with a needle. Was there a seamstress in town, or would she have to involve Milly in her scheme? Violet didn’t know how the waitress would find the time and means to get out to the ranch for a fitting, or if Milly would have time to come into Simpson Creek. That was asking quite a lot.

  One step at a time, Violet reminded herself. First she had to find out if Kate would help her do this good deed.

  “Does anyone have anything else to add?” Maude asked.

  Sarah Walker stood. “As chairwoman of the Spinsters’ Club graduates, I’m pleased to announce that we married members are going to do the serving at the party so that our single members will be free to mingle, flirt and dance.”

  “Well, isn’t that nice?” Maude said, and the other unmarried women clapped.

  “If we’re adjourned, I say it’s time for refreshments,” Sarah announced. “I brought fresh-baked cookies and lemonade.” She pointed to a cloth-covered plate, jug and cups on a side table.

  The ladies drifted from their seats toward the treats and began to chatter. Violet was surprised to see that Ella did not rush out of the meeting, but gravitated to the cluster of the single ladies. So the waitress’s curt remark about having to return to work had been merely an excuse to be rude to her, Violet surmised.

  For a moment her desire to anonymously give Ella a dress wavered, but then she resolved to stick to it. Perhaps the girl’s manner was just the outward evidence of a lack of self-confidence. Pe
rhaps having a new dress for the party would furnish Ella with that confidence, and she would stop needlessly feeling threatened by Violet.

  That change couldn’t come a moment too soon, she thought as she glanced back at the other group and saw Ella speaking to them while nodding in her direction. One by one, as if their gazes were held by invisible strings and Ella was the puppet master, they glanced at Violet, their expressions wary or even suspicious.

  The baggage! It was as clear as crystal that Ella was poisoning the other misses’ minds about her. Violet struggled to quench the urge to wade in among them and set Miss Ella Justiss straight.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, though. Maude sighed heavily next to her, and said, “Ella seems to be playing ‘divide and conquer.’”

  “It seems so,” Prissy muttered.

  Maude turned to Violet. “Now that several of our number have married, some of us fear that we may eventually turn into two groups with different interests, married and single ladies.”

  “Oh, I hope not,” Faith murmured. “We’ve had such a good time. There’s strength in numbers, and the advice of y’all who married first certainly helped me when it became my turn.”

  Violet wanted to speak up and say that she thought it was only her that Ella didn’t like, but she didn’t know if that would be wise. She was still a newcomer to the group, after all. So she only said, “Thank you for inviting me, ladies. I’d better see if my brother is outside waiting for me.” Perhaps Ella would relax once she was gone.

  Violet wondered if Nick would mind a stop at the mercantile. There wasn’t much time before the party to accomplish her good deed.

  “Be sure and come to our barbecue, Violet,” Maude called after her. “You’re one of us now.”

  Outside, she saw not Nick but Raleigh Masterson waiting on his roan by the hitching post. She blinked, sure he was some sort of mirage, but when she opened her eyes again it was still Raleigh, not Nick, who waited for her.