Pinto Lowery Page 15

  “It won’t,” Elsie said, joining them. “People believe what they’ve a mind to. Can you believe it? Ryan, my own cousin’s husband, asked if you’d taken liberties!”

  “Might be bes’ if I was to move on.”

  “Best for whom?” she snapped. “Not for us. Now turn around and get yourself back inside. Christmas mornin’ is comin’ along, and I won’t have discord in my house on a day meant to celebrate peace. Hear?”

  “Yes, Ma,” Truett said, taking Pinto’s bedding and stepping back through the door.

  “Pinto?” she asked.

  “Got a thing or two in de barn to get,” he told her. “I’ll do what you think bes’, Elsie, but I worry after it.”

  “Don’t. I haven’t had so much attention since Tully courted me. I wasn’t but fifteen then, you know. Tru’ll be fifteen next month. That’s half a lifetime.”

  “Sure, I know,” Pinto confessed. More’n half fer some, he thought, remembering Jamie Haskell’s pallid face.

  * * *

  Christmas morning came early. Long before even a crack of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon, Winnie was running around, rousing her brothers.

  “Bet there’ll be presents,” she cried. “Lots of ’em.”

  “Hush and go back to sleep,” Ben grumbled. Brax, on the other hand, threw off his blanket and hurried to get dressed.

  “We’ll get some breakfast goin’,” the younger boy told his sister. “Fryin’ bacon’ll rouse even Tru!”

  So it did, too. Crackling grease might torment the ears, but the wondrous scent of bacon browning on a griddle overpowered even Pinto’s resistance. Elsie complained it was too early, but she nevertheless got into some clothes and took over the cooking chores. Pinto scrambled into his trousers and helped Truett roll up the bedding. The two of them near had to roll up Ben along with the blankets.

  “I was just havin’ myself the best kind o’ dream,” the twelve-year-old lamented. “Prettiest little gal was ...”

  “Don’t get yourself in a lather, little brother,” Truett advised. “And don’t let Ma hear you havin’ impure thoughts on a holy day.”

  “Yeah, that’d have a sharp edge to it, sure,” Ben agreed. By the time Ben had his clothes on and the bedding was stashed away, Elsie called out the food was ready, and the family plus hireling collected themselves for a warming farm breakfast.

  The bacon and eggs chased the bite from the frigid air, and the company warmed Pinto’s insides. It had been a long time since he’d witnessed the anxious eyes of children eager to see what bounty Christmas morning might shower on them.

  First, though, Elsie had the dishes cleared away and scrubbed clean. Then she lit some candles and opened a Bible.

  “Ma’s never one to miss a chance at seein’ verses shared,” Ben told Pinto. “But she’s not one to stretch it out like some I heard of.”

  “Not like that preacher fellow last eve,” Brax added. “I thought my rump’d fall off if I had to sit on that rail bench another minute.”

  Pinto couldn’t help laughing at Braxton’s pained expression. And as it turned out Elsie didn’t insist on any elongated reading.

  “Only proper to reflect on the meanin’ o’ this day,” she said when she closed the book. “Even if I know you children think it’s to round up all the loot north of Mexico.”

  The little ones laughed heartily, and even Truett cracked a smile. Each person then rushed off to dig gifts out of their secret caches. Then they gathered around the fire and handed out presents.

  Elsie had been on the practical side that year, buying cloth and sewing the boys shirts and trousers. Winnie had two new dresses. A new pair of shoes for each was promised on the next journey into Decatur. Truett had used a piece of his trail wages to buy up trinkets in Kansas. Ben and Brax shared a train carved of wooden blocks, and Winnie received a rag doll decked out in a fine blue gingham dress.

  For Elsie, Truett had managed a silver heart-shaped locket.

  “I never saw anything so lovely unless maybe it was your face the instant you were born, Truett,” she said, holding the young man close and hugging him tightly. “I’ll treasure it always.”

  When it was Pinto’s turn, he handed out coonskin caps for Ben and Brax, then passed the soft rabbit fur gloves to the womenfolk. He ignored a frowning Truett for a few moments, then could stand it no longer.

  “Look here,” Pinto said, dragging the saddlebags from beneath the stacked bedding. “Man needs a proper oudfit if he’s to take de trail to Kansas.”

  “Thanks, Pinto,” Truett said, examining the carefully tooled leather.

  “Never saw anything to top that,” Ben observed. “Jared don’t even have the like.”

  “Were a few hours went into it,” Elsie said, smiling at Truett’s trembling hands. The fourteen-year-old managed a hoarse “thank you,” then gripped Pinto’s hand firmly.

  “Was a pa’s chore, dis, and I hope you don’t hold it agains’ me makin’ ’em,” Pinto whispered. “Got no boy o’ my own, though, you see, and I felt de need.”

  “Feel it, too,” ’Truett confessed as he leaned against Pinto’s solid shoulder. “And I don’t judge Pa’d mind.”

  “No, he’d thank you for it,” Elsie added. “Ben, go find Pinto’s present now, will you?”

  “I’ll help,” Winnie cried, following Ben into the back room. They emerged with a huge buffalo-hide coat the equal for warmth of anything to be found south of the Dakotas.

  “Where ...” Ben began.

  “Ryan brought it out from his last trip out to Fort Griffin,” Elsie explained. “You should have bought one yourself instead of picking up that Winchester. It’s a coat to last a few winters.”

  “Bes’ I ever owned,” Pinto said, putting it on. “Man with a coat like this’d consider himself middlin’ well off.”

  “Only middlin’?” Brax asked.

  “’Bout all de Lord’ll allow a Texan,” Pinto said. “Anything more and he sends down a twisder to take off his roof or a fire to bum his grass.”

  “Bet you’re warm enough now,” Winnie said as she wrapped her arms around the waist of the hairy coat.

  “Warm as ever I been,” Pinto said, resting his hand on her slight shoulder.

  Chapter 17

  December soon faded into memory. January and February brought more freezing winter mornings and bleak twilights. In spite of the chill air, Pinto insisted on returning to the barn loft. The place was bitter cold and terribly silent, especially when laughter and singing drifted across from the Oakes house. Sometimes, though, Ben would come over and blow up a tune on his mouth organ. The cheering notes always fended off the dreariness, even when the wind took to howling its worst.

  Those first months of 1874 saw a rare calm come to the frontier. The cavalry had ridden the Comanches out west for the most part, and the biggest news out of Defiance was that Mary Johnson had run off with a cardsharp out of Waco. Up at the Oakes place, Elsie was kept busy baking birthday cakes. Truett turned fifteen in January, while Ben and Brax each celebrated another year in February. Winifred turned nine March second, Texas Independence Day.

  “A birthday’s enough cause for celebration,” Elsie announced at dinner the day before. “But Texas got itself born March second, too. I suppose it’s fittin’ we should have a dance and all to remember that. People’ve grown tired of Yankee judges and bluecoat cavalry that can’t even keep outlaws out of our towns.”

  “Ain’t you heard, Ma?” Truett asked. “Them Hannigans got ’emselves caught up in Kansas. Hung the whole bunch as I heard it.”

  “Well, there’s only fifty others as bad to take their place,” Elsie muttered. “Anyhow, Defiance is hostin’ a dance, and I think maybe we should go. J. B. Dotham asked if we’d offer ’em a steer, and I agreed.”

  “Seems they might try some o’ the folks can better spare one,” Tru grumbled.

  “They did,” she replied. “But from what I hear they’ve invited folks in from all over. Plan to feed three, four
hundred people. We won’t miss one steer much.”

  “’Sides, we’ll eat our share,” Ben said, grinning. “How’ll that be, Winnie? Instead o’ some little birthday cake, you’ll have whole tables of pies and cookies. Bet Arabella’ll make up a tray of them star tarts. Mmmm. Can taste ’em now.”

  The youngsters thereupon launched a discussion of which treat made by which neighbor was most favored. Pinto smiled and shook his head. Then Elsie motioned him outside.

  “You wouldn’t dance last time,” she reminded him as they strolled along the porch. “It’s closin’ in on a year’s time you’ve been with us. Don’t you think that entitles me to favors now and then?”

  “It’s a rocky trail to head down,” Pinto warned.

  “I’ve known hardships aplenty, Pinto. And faced ’em head on, every last one.”

  “You don’t half know me.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Pinto trembled slightly as she took his hands in her own. A deep longing surfaced in her eyes, and he thought to draw her closer. Something kept him away, though. Words! What had Dotham said at Christmas? So many things.

  “You’ll at least share the dancin’, won’t you?” she whispered.

  “Figure it to stop there?”

  “If it has to,” she answered. “You know how fond I’ve grown of you.”

  “I know you think you are,” he replied. “But there’s a hundred things you don’t know ’bout.”

  “I’m listenin’.”

  “That’s jus’ it. I can’t share it all.”

  “Then it doesn’t merit talkin’ about,” she argued. “First the dance. There’ll be time later for anything else needs attendin’.”

  “Fair enough,” Pinto agreed.

  So it was that they prepared for the journey into Defiance. Once again Truett begged the loan of a wagon from the Richardsons for the trip. Pinto took charge of the driving, and little Winnie sandwiched herself between him and her mother. The boys sprawled out in back, together with assorted baked goods Elsie had determined to bring along.

  “There’s to be an auction this afternoon,” she announced en route. “I think it’s a fine chance to pick up a team of mules for the plantin’. Think you can find a likely pair, Pinto?”

  “Always some poor farmer gone bus’,” Pinto answered. “And then de army sells off mules here and there. Won’t be so hard.”

  “Abel Miller’s got a wagon he wants shed of, too,” Ben announced. “If we bought it, we wouldn’t have to borrow one everytime we went anyplace.”

  “Only wants ten dollars, too,” Truett added. “And he’ll bring it by for us. All he needs is a word.”

  Pinto noticed a smile spread across Elsie’s face. Clearly there was a conspiracy here.

  “I imagine we can spare ten dollars if Pinto can get us the mules at a bargain,” Elsie told the youngsters. “Last team Tully bought he paid fifty for.”

  “I’ll save yer ten dollars and maybe a hair more,” Pinto promised. “Buy that wagon.”

  They devoted the remainder of the journey to a discussion of how much acreage to plant that year. Pinto could only shake his head in dismay to hear the boys talk of clearing rocks and trees and adding twenty more acres. It had stretched them to tend the cornfields last year, and Tully had been there to supervise the planting.

  “Seems to me time’d be better spent on de cattle,” Pinto finally said. “If Tru goes north, you won’t have much help with de corn.”

  “We’d have you,” Ben objected.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t plan so much on that,” Pinto told them. “I’ll be out chasin’ down ponies by April.”

  He looked back into three faces lined with knowing grins.

  “Thought you’d be out doin’ that in August,” Ben said, laughing. “Ain’t left yet.”

  No, Pinto thought, and it ain’t gettin’ any easier to go.

  The town of Defiance was astir with excitement that second day of March. Banners draped the front of the mercantile and both saloons proclaiming Texas independent. Oldtimers donned the trim blue coats and hats of the Republican Army. A few veterans of that other, later, war appeared in tattered gray as well.

  “You should’ve worn yer old uniform, Pinto,” Truett declared.

  “Never had much of a uniform,” Pinto explained. “Jus’ an old coat dyed butternut brown and some wool trousers homespun by some lady down Houston way. Wasn’t but rags by firs’ winter, and I picked up odds and ends thereafter. Had some pants taken off a Yank toward de end and a shirt passed down from one friend to another and so on till my turn come. No shoes at all!”

  “Sounds like us come summer,” Brax remarked. “’Course you don’t need a lot of clothes in Texas when the sun’s blazin’ down.”

  “That heat can be a downright vexation,” Pinto observed. “Missed it up Virginia way, though. Colder’n sin up there!”

  “That’s about enough remembering for now!” Elsie scolded when Pinto drew the wagon to a halt. “Ben, Truett, help me carry these baked goods over to those tables there. Pinto, why don’t you take Braxton along to help pick out the mules. Winnie, you come with me, too. I’ll bet we can find you something special for your birthday. What say?”

  “Yes, Ma,” the little girl replied. Tru and Ben tended the goods. Pinto set the wagon brake and led Braxton down the street toward the auction corral. In short order they were inspecting mules and ponies.

  As it happened, Pinto found only one team up to the work, and it took nearly two hours of haggling before the owner agreed to part with them for the offered amount. Of course the news that mules were going for twelve dollars at auction made Pinto’s offer more palatable.

  Ben and Truett, meanwhile, tracked down Abel Miller and purchased the wagon. They also managed to join in a prank or two, for half the children in Wise County had been set loose in Defiance that day.

  After tying the mules to the borrowed Richardson wagon, Pinto waved Brax into the crowd of youngsters. He himself was soon dragged over to a large tent by Elsie.

  “I’d almost given up on you,” she scolded. “Grandpa Jones was beginnin’ to feel lucky.”

  “Jus’ finished de hagglin’,” Pinto explained. “Now find us a square to join.”

  As it turned out, a couple out from Weatherford had worn down, and they gladly yielded their spot to Elsie and Pinto. Square dancing wasn’t his favorite thing on earth, but Pinto nevertheless held his own, bowing and promenading and swinging. Elsie, on the other hand, was a true wonder. Light on her feet and quick enough to make up for a partner’s mistakes, she pranced gracefully at his side as if born there.

  “Now I know why you wanted to dance,” he told her when they finally left the arena breathless and exhausted. “Got some mean feet, Elsie Oakes.”

  “Feet hungry for dancin’,” she explained. “Tully didn’t look it, but he could stomp up a storm. He got heavy those last years, and he didn’t find much time for amusement. More’s the pity, for he might as well have enjoyed himself some more. Didn’t die rich.”

  “Look there,” Pinto said, pointing to a new square forming.

  “Guess it’s in the blood,” Elsie remarked as she spied Truett leading Emily Blasingame. More surprising was the sight of half-pint Ben beside a willowy girl at least a foot taller.

  “Now that’s a sight,” Pinto said, slapping his knee.

  “Miranda Phipps,” Elsie explained. “She’s only four months older, but she got her growin’ early. Pa’s the blacksmith in Decatur.”

  “Poor Ben,” Pinto said, fighting to hold back the laughter. “Hope she won’t swing him too hard. Be a time gettin’ him off the handle o’ yon Big Dipper.”

  “Hush,” she said.

  In truth, Pinto need not add his own jests. Brax and Winnie were doing a fine job of taunting and tormenting their brothers. First Tru and later Ben hollered warnings, but it wasn’t until Miranda waved a fist that the younger Oakeses retreated.

  “You two seem particular pleased tonight,” Rya
n Richardson said as he stepped over. “Lowery, do you suppose I might have a word with you alone?”

  “Anything I can’t hear?” Elsie asked.

  “No, I suppose not,” Richardson replied. “It’s just, well, I don’t see how you can get a crop put in out there. Not with Tully gone and all. Be powerful hard on you.”

  “When’s life out here ever been easy?” Elsie asked.

  “She’s got her heart set on it,” Pinto added.

  “You know, J. B. and I were talkin’ about how short we are of ponies,” Richardson told them. “Need twenty before headin’ north. Maybe more. I was wonderin’ if you might care to supply ’em?”

  “Buy for you?” Pinto asked.

  “Or run ’em down on the Llano. Either way, we’d be generous employers.”

  “Why?” Pinto asked. “You know, I counted three, four, good ponies you passed on at de auction. ’Sides, I got a job.”

  “What is it you want to say, Ryan?” Elsie asked.

  “You know people’ve been talkin’,” Richardson confessed. “A lot. Elsie, you’re family. I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ on things of late. Arabella’s got it in her head she wants to go to finishing school down in Austin. I’d need somebody to run my house. Our boys are near brothers anyhow. Why not sell me your place and move over to the house?”

  “As what?” Elsie asked. “Housekeeper? I seem that hard up?”

  “Might be more in time,” Richardson suggested, gazing nervously at Pinto.

  “Ryan, you’ve been a good friend,” Elsie told the rancher, “but I’ve grown used to bein’ independent.”

  “Then give up the place and set up shop in town. You know the mercantile’s up for sale. It’s not turned a profit since the Johnson girl ran off. You could move Winnie and the boys to town, give them a chance at a proper education.”

  “How’s that?” she asked. “You see a schoolhouse hereabouts?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” Elsie barked. “I’m no town girl, Ryan. I know cornstalks and chickens. I’ll stay it out with my boys. They learn what’s important as is. In town there’d be temptations I couldn’t battle.”