Linda Broday - Give Me A Texan

“No need to concern yourself there. School will start back soon. It was canceled so families could work their ranches to stave off the drought. But if the weather doesn’t let up soon, there won’t be much to save and no reason to keep the children out of school. She’s taught diction there.”

“Am I to cook for her, then? See to her washing and such?”

Briar moved to the two brocade drapes that curtained off what must be another room. “The kitchen’s here. If you like to cook, I’d appreciate the help. If you don’t, then leave it to me. I’m more concerned with teaching her good manners and”-his gaze swept Mina-“appropriate fashion.”

Traditional, Mina decided, silently latching onto a seed for change she must plant in the man’s thinking. If she was expected to teach Violet how to conduct herself in the ways of the elite, then she must teach him to be more progressive. At least he had vinegar enough to know he needed help in the matter. “These are the latest from Paris, Mr. Duncan.” She tugged on her pants. “Mark me words, Mademoiselle Chanel’s fashions will soon fill ladies’ wardrobes everywhere in America. While ye men wage yer battles these days, ’tis freedom of movement we women are fighting for.”

Violet chose that moment to peek around the door. “I’m ready for you to tuck me in now.”

“Want to help?” Briar motioned Mina ahead of him.

Mina remained still just long enough to let him lead. She was pleased to be included in the obvious nightly ritual. She’d been certain he would argue with her about her clothing choices, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d let her comment pass. Perhaps he was just too tired to challenge her views.

Something about the way Violet’s hand went trustingly into her father’s and led him down the brief hallway warmed Mina’s heart. She’d been too harsh in her thoughts of Briar Duncan. He might be guilty of neglect. He might even be guilty of too traditional a view in his raising of his daughter, but it was clear he loved the lass dearly. There would never be a lifelong abandonment as her own parents had done.

Mina watched as father and daughter entered a room and knelt beside a four-poster bed whose plush lavender-colored quilt had been turned down. Hand-painted clouds drifted along the sky-colored ceiling, offering a billowy white pathway to the kite that flew among them. Though the room boasted only a rocking chair, night table, armoire, and lamp, it looked like a princess’s palace to Mina. Aye, this father dearly loved his daughter. Or, at least, he made a good show of it when no one was looking.

In unison, Briar and Violet cupped their palms in prayer.

“Dear God,” Violet began as Mina knelt at the end of the bed. “Bless everybody we love and help everyone be good to each other. Oh…and don’t let Jim Corbett get in too much trouble with his Pa ’cause I whipped him. He can’t help it if he’s dumber than-”

“Violet.” Briar opened one eye to look sternly at his daughter.

“Well, okay.” She peeked at him with her good eye, then shut it tightly. “I guess You might want to spend some more time on Jim, God. He needs lots of help. Oh yeah, best of all, thank You for sending me my angel.” She blew out a long sigh of relief. “I guess You was too busy to hear the part about hurrying up and send her. Amen.”

Briar leaned over and kissed the top of Violet’s head. “Climb in there before you get yourself in trouble.”

Violet leapt into the bed and pulled up the covers. She waited till her father tucked in the quilt and kissed her once more before she held her arms out toward Mina. “You gonna kiss me too, angel?”

“Wouldna miss it for the world.” Mina swept past Briar to press her lips against the cherubic cheek. “Now sleep, lass, we’ve got lots to do tomorrow.”

“Okay, but angel…” She wiggled one finger so Mina would move closer.

“Mina. Call me Mina.”

“You don’t have to teach me nothing, Mina,” she whispered. “I already love you.”

“I already love ye, too, lass,” she whispered back, both surprised and pleased that she meant it. “Now rest that sore eye so it can heal.”

Briar lay on his back, staring out at the moon that rose over the high plains of Texas. The windows lining the eastern wall of the depot’s lobby gave an expansive view of the night sky blanketing Amarillo-a view that he needed to mull the choice he’d made today. The telegraph office had felt too confining, limiting his ability to think. He had tried stretching across one of the passenger benches, but his legs extended too far over the side and the seats were just narrow enough that he couldn’t curl up comfortably. There was nothing else to do but move his bed out here and set it up near the window. He shifted on the cot, threading his arms behind his head. The curious restlessness he had managed to hold at bay seemed to intensify while he waited for sleep.

Today had been eventful, to say the least. He’d never expected the strangely dressed woman to enter his own life. He’d surely never meant to allow her to take charge of Violet. Perhaps tomorrow would bring wiser thoughts. But as dinner had worn on, she’d looked increasingly tired and probably needed sleep more than he needed to determine the level of her qualifications.

Mina McCoy’s presence had filled the restaurant with a spirit he found intriguing and a concern for his daughter that he could only admire-two very becoming qualities that lured his mind away from the duties at hand and made him acutely aware of her as a woman. The sight of rambunctious little Violet nestled deeply in her lap, the smile of peace written across that cherubic face, had sealed the bargain in his heart, much less his mind. He marveled that his daughter had so easily come to trust the woman, since she gave few people that honor. Despite his interest in his new employee, he felt a twinge of something he could only define as envy. He doubted that Violet trusted him so openly.

And why should she? He’d been caught up passing off his own grief as a need to make her a living and give her everything he could. But he hadn’t given her the one thing she wanted most. The one thing she needed. Unstipulated love.

Oh sure, he’d made a good show of doing his duty. But the love he’d offered her always became a bargain between them-a quick fix to any time-consuming situation that arose. You do this, Violet, and I’ll do that. Yet, real love had been buried along with Katie Rose. Love offered without expecting something back. Love given without consideration of one’s own needs. Love offered without restraint. Miss McCoy was right. He had neglected Violet for far too long.

Briar bolted to his feet, needing a breath of fresh air. He threw on a shirt and boots then hurried outside, not taking the time to grab the rest of his uniform. Lantern light down the tracks reminded him that the porter was out checking the roundhouse and making sure the Eclipse was in good working condition for tomorrow. Though the windmill that pulled water to fill the steam locomotives had survived hundreds of wind-storms, it was a contrary contraption at best, needing careful maintenance and plenty of patience. Nathaniel seemed the only man who could square off with the twenty-two-foot mechanical rogue and win.

Its wooden blades had taken on speed since Briar went to bed, indicating a good wind was gusting in from the southwest. The breeze would cool the yards and help the cattle waiting for transport to the Kansas City packing houses to settle down for the night. Maybe now would be a good time to check in on Violet and open her bedroom window to let in a breeze.

He made his way home, thinking of ways he could improve his schedule to allow him more time with her. Tomorrow, he could…Hell, it was already tomorrow. He’d have to do some quick thinking on how to make this the best Sunday he’d spent with her in a long time. Maybe there would still be a surrey available at the livery. If many of the newcomers in town were church-going people, he might have difficulty securing a ride and they’d have to walk. Not that he minded but the wind would wreak havoc on Violet’s curls. A shame the streetcars didn’t run on Sunday.

“Evenin’, Mr. Duncan.”

Deep in thought, Briar hadn’t noticed the constable leaning against the corner of the millinery shop. He started to tip his hat at the policeman then realized he’d left it hung on a peg along with his coat. “Officer Goodnight,” he acknowledged. “Everything quiet?”

“’Cept the wind. It’s stirring up a few tumbleweeds. Forget something over at the station?”

Briar remembered his state of undress and began fastening the shirt he’d left unbuttoned. “No, just checking on my youngun’.”

The policeman tapped his nightstick against the brim of his cap and started to move off. “Working day and night’s no kind of life to lead, Duncan. Take it from someone who seen life at its best and worst. No amount of money’s worth burning the fuse at both ends. Pretty soon it’ll blow up in your face.” He chuckled all of a sudden. “Kiss that little whirlwind of yours for me while you’re at it.”

“Will do, Officer Goodnight.”

“Might as well call me Billy. Your daughter does.”

That precocious child of his had obviously wormed her way into the constable’s good favor. To make quick work of his intentions, Briar decided to go through the alleys. He lengthened his strides past two alleys before rounding the corner to his backyard. There, in the moonlight near the tree that shaded the small garden he’d tried vainly to save, stood Mina.

Hair the color of sunlit plains dipped to the nape of her neck. The angle of her arms as she braced herself against the tree defined the silken slenderness of a woman who valued physical activity. Moonlight shone on the lower half of her face, leaving her eyes in shadow. Yet he witnessed the moment she felt his gaze upon her, sensed that he was watching her.