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 and 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.
As he fought the current, Violet urged the big stallion to back up and the slack went out of the loop. Travis was fast running out of energy, but the lasso tightened around him and dragged him toward the shore. Finally he felt his feet touch bottom and he let go of the dog and fell into the shallow water and lay there, breathing hard.
Growler licked his face with a warm, wet tongue.
“You stupid mutt,” he gulped. “You ’bout got us drowned.”
Bonnie ran forward to put her chubby arms around the dog, who rewarded her by shaking his wet coat and getting everyone wet.
Violet backed up the horse and loosened the lasso. “Are you all right?”
He closed his eyes as she wiped his wet hair from his eyes. “I think so, just cold.”
“I’ll make some coffee.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” he gasped as he stood up, stepped out of the loop and stumbled over to sit under a tree. “Welcome to Texas,” he announced. “I reckon this is as far as we go today.”
Limpy used his crutch to hobble over to him. “Are you okay, Mr. Prescott?”
Travis grinned at him. “Call me Travis. You got the makings of a real cowboy.”
“With a name like Limpy?”
Travis leaned back against the tree. “You’re right. I think you deserve a new name, a Texas name. Let me think about it. Myself, I’m named for the leader of the men at the Alamo, Colonel Travis.”
Violet had started a small fire with driftwood. “You take off those wet clothes and dry out,” she said. “You boys stake out the livestock and see if you can catch some fish.”
Growler bounced over to him and shook all over, throwing muddy water on Travis.
“Damn you, old dog,” Travis swore. “I should have let you drown.”
“And listen to Bonnie cry?” Violet snapped. “I think not. Here, give me that wet shirt.”
He started to protest, then peeled it off, although he didn’t think it seemly to strip half-naked in front of three young girls.
She took it. “I’ll hang it near the fire to dry. Maybe you’d better take your pants off, too.”
“In front of little girls?” He shook his head. “Hell, no.”
“Mr. Prescott, you know what I said about swearing.” She went to get the coffeepot out of the wagon.
He watched her go. Right now. she didn’t seem like a kid, not the way she was taking charge.
She came back with the coffeepot and a blanket. “Here, wrap this around you. My, you’ve got a lot of scars.”
He took the blanket and draped it over his wide shoulders. “Too many days as a cowboy and a Ranger.”
“That river water can’t be good for that wrist.” She knelt and took his wrist in her two small hands. “I’ll wash the wound with whiskey after I make you some coffee.”
“We don’t have any whiskey, remember? You traded it.”
“Oh, yes. Well, you would have probably drunk it up by now anyway.” She shrugged and went to the fire.
“I would if I had some,” he snapped.
She sneaked looks at him as she made coffee, realizing again what a big, broad-shouldered stud he was. His scarred, dark skin rippled over powerful muscles. This was a man who could take care of and protect a woman. She wished suddenly she could be that woman.
While Bonnie and Kessie played around the wagon, she took Travis a cup of hot coffee and put it in his calloused hands. “Much obliged.” He nodded and sipped it.