Travis (7 page)

The dog hesitated, ran to him, then turned and raced back to the blond toddler. Boo Hoo put her arms around the dog’s neck and he licked her face. Damn it, he knew now he’d lost his dog for good. He had never felt as lonely as he did at this moment.

Violet had gathered everyone up and was loading them in the wagon. “Good luck, Mr. Prescott.”

“Good-bye.” All the children waved to him.

“See you in Guthrie.” He had mixed feelings about riding away and leaving them, but people were starting to gather along the starting line where the cannon was. Some had fine horses, some drove buggies or wagons. There were even several on foot or riding bicycles.

Damn, he should have hung on to that extra horse, it would have given him an advantage when Mouse tired out. He cursed himself for a soft-hearted fool for taking responsibility for all these children.

He had to hold Mouse back as the line straightened out and soldiers made ready to fire the cannon; the gray stallion was ready to race.

Then the gun boomed and with a cheer, the crowd of thousands was off, racing for free land in the Indian Territory.

When the cannon boomed, Travis dug his heels into Mouse’s sides and they were off like a shot. However there was no need to urge the big gray forward. Mouse liked to run and his long legs drummed like pistons across the flat prairie. Around them, dust swirled up like a brown cloud from thousands of other horses. To Travis, it seemed like the noise of all the shouting people, running horses and rolling wagons reverberated like thunder.

Where would the best land be? Maybe somewhere in the middle of the staked-out ground because the westernmost areas were more apt to be without streams of water, land not good or rich enough to graze cattle or horses. The easternmost land would be covered in the scrub oak trees that grew from Texas on north. He’d been over this ground years ago during cattle drives with his adopted father, Colt.

He looked behind him as he rode. His big horse was already outrunning most of the line. He heard a shout as a racing buggy hit a gopher hole and turned over, spilling a man out onto the grass. Then a team of mules stopped and refused to move farther, hee-hawing in indignation as the irate driver cracked his whip over their heads.

The people running on foot were easily being left behind in the blowing dust. There were good horses galloping all around him as men rode the race of their lives, hoping to win a farm.

Travis’s wrist was throbbing again, but he ignored it. He’d been in worse pain than this often over his career as a lawman. How many times had he been shot or stabbed and survived to fight again another day with nothing but a few scars to show for it?

The April day was warm and the prairie grass grew tall and green as he raced on. Scarlet Indian paintbrush and other wildflowers bloomed across the grasslands as he rode. It seemed quiet now that he was leaving the others behind. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a train whistle and knew that other settlers were riding the train into the Unassigned Lands, hoping to be able to jump off and stake a claim as the train slowed. He tried to imagine all the thousands of eager people coming in from all four sides of the Indian Lands, hoping to stake a claim for free farms.

Mouse was lathered and blowing now, and Travis slowed to a walk as he rode. He didn’t want free land bad enough to ride his beloved horse to death, although he figured there were greedy men out there willing to kill their mounts to win this race.

It seemed quiet, although he could still hear shouts and running horses far behind him. Where did he want to stake a claim? He reined in and looked around. Up ahead was a green valley with a creek and a shady spot with dozens of big cottonwood trees; the perfect place to build a ranch house.

He rode forward, happy that now he’d have his own ranch. His folks’ place was already crowded with his two younger brothers and their families. There was a big piece of land for sale next to theirs, but of course he didn’t have any money to buy it. Well, he’d start his spread right here in the Indian Territory.

He grinned as he reined in, stepped down, reaching for his claim flag in his saddlebags, And then a man stepped out of a soddy built into the bank of the creek. “Hey, mister, I already got this place claimed.”

Travis stared at him with disbelief. “You couldn’t possibly have gotten here before I did. I’ve got one of the fastest horses in the race.”

Then a thin, ragged woman came out of the shoddy, followed by six of the skinniest, dirtiest children Travis had ever seen. “Please, mister,” she begged. “We need this land. We ain’t got nothin.’”

Sooners. “Oh, I get it,” Travis grumbled. “You sneaked in here before the gun sounded and staked this land.”

The bearded man looked shame-faced and hung his head. “We didn’t mean to do nothing wrong. We just need a farm so bad, and we only had one old mule, so we knew we couldn’t compete. Please don’t create no trouble for us, mister.”

Travis looked them over and hesitated. This was the poorest, hungriest family he’d ever seen. He could make a fuss at the Land Office in Guthrie and probably get them thrown off this claim and he could have it. Did he need a ranch that bad?

“Please, mister,” the woman whined again. “This is the only chance we got.”

“You been in to Guthrie to file your claim?” Travis asked. He could still own this land.

The man shook his head and stubbed his worn shoe in the dirt. “I was afraid to leave my family alone, afraid some rough fellows might come along, and you know.”

Travis looked at the woman. She might have once been pretty, but time and a hard life had worn her down. Still there were desperate men who would take advantage of a situation like this. What should he do? Well, there was only one thing an honorable Texan could do.

He said to the oldest boy who looked like he was about fourteen. “Son, you all got a rifle?”

The dirty-faced urchin nodded. “An old one, but no bullets.”

“Now you do.” Travis reached into his saddlebags and tossed him a handful. “You look after the family and I’ll give your dad a ride into Guthrie to file his claim.”

The whole family looked surprised.

The man said, “You’d do that?”

“I’m a Texan. Even though you’re breakin’ the law, I can’t fault you, knowing how bad you need this farm. I’ll give you a ride to the Land Office and you can catch a ride back. There’ll be wagons comin’ this way.”

The woman started crying. “God bless you, sir.”

Travis shrugged, embarrassed. “Don’t take on so, ma’am. Can you and the kids get along for a day or two until your man gets back?”

She nodded. “Josh and me’ll hold off any claim jumpers.”

“Ain’t you gonna keep racing?” a young girl asked.

Travis shook his head. “I reckon by now most of the good land is gone and my horse is tired. Come on, mister.” Travis mounted up. He reached his hand down to the ragged farmer and lifted him up behind him. They stopped at the creek to let the horse drink and then Travis started north at a walk.

So he had lost his chance at a claim. Funny, he didn’t much care. He probably could still get some land that wasn’t so good or a town lot, but that didn’t interest him.

The man didn’t say much as they rode and finally came into Guthrie. It was a wild, confused scene of tents and shacks being hammered together along a crooked dirt path that was meant to be a street. Uniformed soldiers rode about to keep the peace. Already saloons and eateries had set up with nothing more than a couple of boards set up over barrels and a piece of canvas stretched to keep the sun off.

Travis yelled at a passing soldier. “Hey, where’s the Land Office?”

The blue-coated soldier pointed down the row of tents. “Can’t miss it.”

“Much obliged.” Travis nodded his thanks and started riding through the crowded streets. The Land Office had a long line out in front and soldiers to keep order. He reined in and let the skinny farmer slide off. “Well, here you go. You got enough to pay the fee?”

“Yep.” The man reached up to shake Travis’s hand. “Just barely got it. Can’t thank you enough, stranger.”

“You got anything for groceries?”

The man hesitated. “We’re makin’ out all right.”

Travis dug in his pocket. “Here’s a dollar. I ain’t got much more than that. Buy a few potatoes and some canned milk to take back to those kids.”

“I can’t take your charity. You already done enough.” The man backed away, protesting.

Travis reached over and stuck the dollar in the man’s torn shirt pocket. “I insist. For the kids.”

“Thank you kindly.” The man’s eyes teared up.

“Now get in that line and get your claim registered,” Travis ordered and turned Mouse around, rode away.

The street was dusty and full of bustling people, some of them camping and building fires right where others were hammering boards together. “Is there a creek around here?” He grabbed a passing farmer.

“Thata way.” The farmer pointed. “Otherwise, you got to buy it by the glass.”

Travis saw the sign then:
DIP OF WATER 50C
.
Outrageous
, he thought as he headed toward the creek. The sign said:
COTTONWOOD CREEK
.

There were families camped along the stream. Some of them looked sad and discouraged. As he let Mouse drink his fill, he said to a dispirited old man sitting on the bank, “You didn’t get a claim?”

The old man shook his head. “They said there was three times as many people as there was land claims. I just wasn’t fast enough. How about you?”

Travis hesitated, then took off his hat and splashed his face with the cool water. He wasn’t about to tell about the poor Sooner family. “Me, neither.” He took a long drink from the creek and put his hat back on.

He heard gunfire from the center of the makeshift town. “Sounds like some of the boys are already getting liquored up.”

The old man nodded. “Reckon by dark, it’ll be wild and wooly, even saloon girls coming in on the train, I hear. Don’t think the soldiers will be able to keep a lid on it.”

“Maybe not.” Travis nodded and led his horse away from the creek. It might be hours before little Violet and the kids showed up here in Guthrie. He didn’t really owe her anything; he could just ride on south to Texas. What he was going to do once he got there, he wasn’t sure, but it was evident there was nothing for him here.

His wrist throbbed and he took Mr. Brown’s small bottle out of his saddlebag and took a long drink. He heard gunfire again as he walked toward the center of the town of tents and instant shacks being constructed. At one tent, they already had a roulette wheel set up and scantily clad girls stood outside, urging men to come inside.

“Hey, honey.” A painted girl with dyed yellow hair grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you come in? I can show you a real good time.”

“I bet you could.” He shrugged her off and kept walking. She had made him think of Emily. He gritted his teeth, hating loose women and everything they represented.

Yes, the old man was right; by dark, this instant town might be out of control, men drunk, guns firing, pickpockets working the crowd and fights in the street. Not a good place to leave a young girl and a bunch of kids to fend for themselves. Besides he wanted his dog back. He’d at least stay here until Violet arrived. Maybe he could try to help place all the children with decent people, if there were any in this wild mob. Travis found a big oak with some shade, staked Mouse out to graze and lay down in the grass, pulled his hat over his eyes. He was dog-tired. He’d sleep awhile and then start watching for the ox wagon.

 

 

It was almost dark when he felt a small foot nudge him gently. “Hey, Mr. Prescott, how’d you do in the run?”

He sat up and blinked. Looking down at him was the young girl and all the kids. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” he said, stretched and stood up.

“Did you get a claim?” Kessie asked while Limpy stroked Mouse’s nose and talked to the horse.

He was ashamed. He felt he’d failed at his responsibility. “No, I didn’t. It’s a long story that I don’t want to talk about.”

“You didn’t?” Violet exclaimed. “You had such a fast horse.”

“Yeah, but someone else needed the land worse than I did.”

“You gave it away?” Harold looked up at him with big almond eyes.

“Well, sort of.” He stared at Violet and something told him she understood without telling her. “So here we all are. Judging from what I’ve seen of this crowd, I’m not sure we can find enough good people to take all you kids.”

Boo Hoo began to cry and hugged Growler’s neck. “No, no, don’t want a new family.”

Travis shrugged helplessly at Violet. “Young lady, I’ve kept my promise to get you all to Guthrie. I doubt anyone’s looking for you here. Now let’s look around and see if we can find homes.”

She looked crestfallen. “All right. There’s bound to be some good people in this crowd.”

They started walking, Violet leading the ox wagon and Travis leading his horse. Growler followed along behind as Harold carried Boo Hoo.

They passed a man building a house. He looked like a family man, Travis thought. He stopped. “Mister, would you like to adopt Harold here?” He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“An Oriental kid? Now why would I want him?” the red-faced man sneered. “There’s a laundry being built down the block—Chinese, I think. Take him down there.”

Harold drew himself up proudly. “I don’t intend to do laundry. I want to be a doctor or a scientist.”

The man laughed. “And he’s fresh, besides. Get used to the idea, you little Chink, all your future is laundry or running an opium den.”

“Why you—!” Travis drew back his fist, but Violet grabbed his arm.

“No, Mr. Prescott, let’s not get into a fight. We’ll find better people.”

They kept walking.

Violet said, “Now there’s a nice-looking couple. Maybe they’d like a little girl.”

Travis looked. They were an older couple and perhaps a prosperous one. The man had muttonchop sideburns and wore a gold pocket watch and chain, and the lady wore a fancy bonnet. They walked over to them.

“Excuse me.” Travis took off his hat. “We’re trying to find a home for this baby girl. Wouldn’t you like to have her?”

Boo Hoo burst into tears and hugged Growler’s neck.

“Why the poor little thing,” the woman clucked sympathetically. “Why, she’s so sweet and we don’t have any children. What do you think, Horace?”

Horace looked down at the crying child. “Yes, the poor little thing looks like she could use a home.” He reached to take Boo Hoo’s hand and she promptly kicked him in the shins so that he backed away.

Violet said, “She’s tired, that’s all.”

“Not go without doggie,” Boo Hoo wept.

The woman wrinkled her nose. “The dog? That scruffy mutt? We have to take the dog, too?”

“Now just a minute,” Travis said. “Growler is a good dog and smart, too.”