see what you think.”
As Travis watched, dumbfounded, Clyde mounted the stallion and sat there proudly. “Miss, would you like to ride up behind me?”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Travis snapped, “but let’s talk turkey.”
The other man frowned. “I don’t think I want to talk to you, mister. I want to talk to this young lady about making a deal.”
“She’s just a girl,” Travis protested. “You can’t do business with a young girl. Horse trading is men’s business.”
However, in the end, Clyde did business with Violet and Travis stood there like a wooden cigar-store Indian while the girl cajoled and charmed the man into throwing all his gear into the deal.
When they drove away fifteen minutes later in the ox-drawn covered wagon, Travis complained, “You took everything he had, even the change out of his pockets. Good thing he wasn’t wearin’ false teeth.”
“I could have traded him out of those, too,” she said.
“Remind me never to get into a trading deal with you.”
“Oh, don’t be so huffy,” Violet answered. “He’s got a much better chance in the run now and we’ve got a rig that will carry all the kids.”
“And leaves me without a spare horse,” Travis grumbled.
“Isn’t Mouse fast enough for you to race on ahead and get a claim?”
“Maybe,” Travis said. “This is just until we reach Guthrie, right?”
She nodded. “Just get us to Guthrie and we’ll try to make out on our own.”
He glanced sideways at her. She seemed even smaller and more defenseless. He didn’t have any confidence that this bunch of children could make it alone, but of course, that wasn’t his problem. He had enough of his own. Right now, his wrist was throbbing and he had to clench his teeth to hold back a gasp.
They drove into the camp and all the children ran to meet them.
“An oxcart?” Limpy asked.
Kessie frowned. “Oxen are slow. They can’t outrun a turtle.”
“How are we going to get a claim on a farm if we’re slow?” Harold asked.
“No.” Travis shook his head. “No, you don’t understand; I’m the one racing for a claim. You all are going to the territorial capital and that’s where I leave you.”
“Oh.” The children all looked downcast and he felt guilty as hell.
Violet said, “Don’t worry, kids. Mr. Prescott is going to at least take us that far and it’s good of him to do so, isn’t it? We can make it on our own.”
They all nodded and Travis felt like he’d stolen candy from the baby who was clinging to Growler’s neck.
He wished he had a drink to quell the pain. “Look, here’s what we do now: let’s break camp and head south. I have to be waiting at the starting line by noon tomorrow when the gun goes off.”
They gathered up the blankets and pans, and Travis saddled Mouse with the boys helping him. It occurred to him that he could help that crippled kid by making him a shoe that would make the short leg as long as the other, but of course, that wasn’t going to be his problem after tomorrow when he left them all at the capital.
Violet got in the wagon seat of the oxcart. “I think I can drive this. Now all you children get in.”
They all got in as Travis mounted up on Mouse.
Boo Hoo began to cry. “Doggie, my dog, Feathers.”
Violet looked uncertainly up at Travis. “Do you mind?”
“I reckon not. I don’t know what the world’s coming to when a dog that’s walked all over Texas now has to ride in a wagon like a baby carriage.”
Violet snapped her fingers at Growler and he hopped up into the wagon and licked the tears off Boo Hoo’s little face.
“Damn,” Travis muttered. “What have I let myself in for?”
“Mr. Prescott,” Violet said primly, “please don’t swear in front of the children.”
And so they started off south toward the Kansas state line, an injured Texas Ranger on a big gray stallion, and an ox wagon full of kids with Growler’s head poking out the back as he barked happily.
They
As Travis watched, dumbfounded, Clyde mounted the stallion and sat there proudly. “Miss, would you like to ride up behind me?”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Travis snapped, “but let’s talk turkey.”
The other man frowned. “I don’t think I want to talk to you, mister. I want to talk to this young lady about making a deal.”
“She’s just a girl,” Travis protested. “You can’t do business with a young girl. Horse trading is men’s business.”
However, in the end, Clyde did business with Violet and Travis stood there like a wooden cigar-store Indian while the girl cajoled and charmed the man into throwing all his gear into the deal.
When they drove away fifteen minutes later in the ox-drawn covered wagon, Travis complained, “You took everything he had, even the change out of his pockets. Good thing he wasn’t wearin’ false teeth.”
“I could have traded him out of those, too,” she said.
“Remind me never to get into a trading deal with you.”
“Oh, don’t be so huffy,” Violet answered. “He’s got a much better chance in the run now and we’ve got a rig that will carry all the kids.”
“And leaves me without a spare horse,” Travis grumbled.
“Isn’t Mouse fast enough for you to race on ahead and get a claim?”
“Maybe,” Travis said. “This is just until we reach Guthrie, right?”
She nodded. “Just get us to Guthrie and we’ll try to make out on our own.”
He glanced sideways at her. She seemed even smaller and more defenseless. He didn’t have any confidence that this bunch of children could make it alone, but of course, that wasn’t his problem. He had enough of his own. Right now, his wrist was throbbing and he had to clench his teeth to hold back a gasp.
They drove into the camp and all the children ran to meet them.
“An oxcart?” Limpy asked.
Kessie frowned. “Oxen are slow. They can’t outrun a turtle.”
“How are we going to get a claim on a farm if we’re slow?” Harold asked.
“No.” Travis shook his head. “No, you don’t understand; I’m the one racing for a claim. You all are going to the territorial capital and that’s where I leave you.”
“Oh.” The children all looked downcast and he felt guilty as hell.
Violet said, “Don’t worry, kids. Mr. Prescott is going to at least take us that far and it’s good of him to do so, isn’t it? We can make it on our own.”
They all nodded and Travis felt like he’d stolen candy from the baby who was clinging to Growler’s neck.
He wished he had a drink to quell the pain. “Look, here’s what we do now: let’s break camp and head south. I have to be waiting at the starting line by noon tomorrow when the gun goes off.”
They gathered up the blankets and pans, and Travis saddled Mouse with the boys helping him. It occurred to him that he could help that crippled kid by making him a shoe that would make the short leg as long as the other, but of course, that wasn’t going to be his problem after tomorrow when he left them all at the capital.
Violet got in the wagon seat of the oxcart. “I think I can drive this. Now all you children get in.”
They all got in as Travis mounted up on Mouse.
Boo Hoo began to cry. “Doggie, my dog, Feathers.”
Violet looked uncertainly up at Travis. “Do you mind?”
“I reckon not. I don’t know what the world’s coming to when a dog that’s walked all over Texas now has to ride in a wagon like a baby carriage.”
Violet snapped her fingers at Growler and he hopped up into the wagon and licked the tears off Boo Hoo’s little face.
“Damn,” Travis muttered. “What have I let myself in for?”
“Mr. Prescott,” Violet said primly, “please don’t swear in front of the children.”
And so they started off south toward the Kansas state line, an injured Texas Ranger on a big gray stallion, and an ox wagon full of kids with Growler’s head poking out the back as he barked happily.
They
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