One Texas Night

CHAPTER 5

With the dawn came a downpour that seemed to be trying to wash the small town of Amarillo off the map. As the train pulled into the station, Aggie tried to catch her first glimpse. She stared out the foggy window at gray skies blending with the brown landscape.

“This is it.” Hank stood as the engine braked. He crammed on his hat as if preparing for a fight. “We’re home.” Slinging his saddlebags over one shoulder, he moved toward the door. “I’ll take your carpetbag now and come back for the boxes when I fetch my horse.”

She sat motionless realizing he expected her to follow him. “You have to be joking,” Aggie mumbled. “I can’t go out in that.” She pointed at the rain pelting the windows. “There are tree branches blowing by bigger than me.” She twisted her hands until her fingers turned ghostly white. “I can’t go.”

Hank laughed. “Train’s moving farther north in half an hour and my guess is the storm only gets worse from here. We have to get off now.”

When she didn’t move, he added, “I’ll carry you to the mercantile across the street. It’s not far. You’ll still get wet, but at least you won’t get muddy . . . or blown away. Don’t worry. I’ll hold on to you.”

Neither option seemed possible. Even if she had an umbrella, using it would be like fighting a bear with a twig. Much as she hated it, the only choice might be to run for the nearest shelter.

Hank moved down the aisle as if their discussion was over and she followed, her hands worrying in front of her. Marrying a stranger might have been reckless, but stepping out in that wind bordered on suicidal in her mind. No wonder there were no people in the Panhandle of Texas. They’d all blown into the Oklahoma Territory.

She watched as Hank crossed onto the platform, his legs wide apart and solid against the wind.

Before she could say anything, he swung her up and jumped from the train. Aggie wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as he ran into a wall of gray rain.

Shivering against him, she was too frightened to make a sound. Once they were off the platform, the street turned more river than road. He slowed, picking his steps. As tiny hailstones joined the rain, she felt his heart pounding even through their clothing.

His face lowered and his hat protected them both. A rough brush of whiskers touched her cheek.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, his lips near her ear. “We’re almost there.”

Aggie managed a slight nod and felt her cheek touch his once more. She tightened her grip. He did the same.

When he stepped onto the porch of Diggs Grocery and Hardware, she didn’t lessen her hold. Now the rain wasn’t hitting them, but the sound of it seemed deafening against the tin roof.

Hank pushed into the store. “We made it,” he whispered with a laugh.

Aggie realized she hadn’t been nearly as frightened as she thought she would be. She’d felt safe in his arms.

Placing her hand on his jaw, she turned his head slightly so that their eyes met beneath the shadow of his Stetson. “Thank you.” She silently mouthed the words as she studied his face. A strong face with honest eyes, she decided. This tall man held far more than her at the moment. He held her future.

Warm air circled around them. Hank took a deep breath and raised his head.

When she looked up, a colorful mercantile greeted her. Everything from clothing, blankets, and food supplies to farm equipment and furniture seemed haphazardly piled around them. One man with a wide smile stood in the center of it all.

“Aggie.” Hank cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet Jeb Diggs.”

Jeb Diggs, as round as the potbellied stove he stood beside, hurried toward them. “Well, well, Hank Harris. I didn’t expect to see a soul today, much less you. What you got there?” The fat little man wiggled his eyebrows at Aggie.

Hank’s hat dripped water as he looked down. “My wife,” he answered as if the two words were all that needed to be said. Leaning, he set her feet on the floor.

“Mary Carol! Get out here!” Jeb bellowed. “Hank just found him a wife.”

A woman matching Jeb in size waddled from the back. They both stared at Aggie as if they’d never seen such a strange creature.

Aggie straightened slowly. “Nice to meet you,” she managed between shivers.

Hank’s hand spread across her back, steadying her as though he sensed her fear.

Jeb motioned for them to come closer to the stove.

Hank circled her shoulder as if to draw her forward, but she didn’t budge. All her life she’d hated meeting strangers. Her father had never made her wait on customers in his shop as her sisters did. Now, everything and everyone about her was a stranger, and she longed for her quiet days spent in the back of the shop.

She glanced up at Hank. He smiled slightly, but didn’t say a word. He looked like if she planned to remain rooted at the front door, he’d stand right beside her.

Mary Carol misunderstood Aggie’s hesitance. “Don’t worry about getting this floor wet, we’d outlast Noah, and don’t pay no mind to that basket of cats. I found them out on the back porch without no momma to look after them. I couldn’t stand them newborns getting soaked in this rain, so I put them as close to the fire as I dared.”

Forgetting her own worries, Aggie looked at the basket by the stove. Wet, crying kittens wiggled about. She crossed and knelt, seeing that they were newly born and shivering. Blindly, they searched for their mother.

“If you have a cloth,” she asked the lady staring at her, “I could wipe them dry.”

Mary Carol smiled down at her. “I’ll get one for them, and one for you too.”

Aggie removed her ruined bonnet and wet coat, then sat beside the basket to begin rubbing each kitten down.

“She’s a pretty one,” Jeb Diggs said as he watched Aggie. “An angel you got there, Hank.”

“She needs dry clothes and a warm coat. Just put whatever she picks on my bill,” Hank said as he shoved back on his hat. “I have to get my horse unloaded.”

Aggie looked up, hating that he had to go back out in the storm.

“You be all right here?” he asked, studying her.

She nodded.

Mary Carol waved Hank away. “You hurry right back. Jeb will put on a fresh pot of coffee and it’ll be waiting for you. I’ll see to your new missus.” She studied Aggie. “I’ll bring out the few choices of clothing we have to pick from, and you can change in the storage room when you finish with them cats.” As she walked away she mumbled, “You’ll be needing boots as well.”

The woman disappeared behind the stacks of clothing, but her voice continued, “You’re lucky, we got in a huge shipment last week of winter wear. Nothing as fancy as what you have on, but good sturdy clothes.”

Aggie looked down at the wrinkled violet dress she wore. Two of her sisters had picked it out, saying she needed something elaborate to attract a man, but the frills and buttons weren’t comfortable and hadn’t worn well.

Mary Carol tossed clothes over the stacks. A dark, rich, blue wool skirt landed at Aggie’s feet, and a blouse cut like a man’s, except for the collar and cuffs, followed.

Aggie ran her hand over the outfit. Growing up, her clothes had always been hand-me-downs. Pale yellows and washed-out pinks. She’d never worn anything in dark blue and couldn’t wait to try it on.

“I got just the right vest to go with that,” Mary Carol shouted as she hurried into sight. She held up a multicolored vest that looked like it had been made from an Indian blanket. “What do you think?”

Aggie grinned. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever worn. It was perfect.





Twenty minutes later, when Hank stomped back into the store, Aggie sat by the stove drying her hair. He almost didn’t recognize her. From her black boots to her western vest, she put any model he’d ever seen in a catalog to shame. He felt his mouth go dry. How does a man tell a beautiful woman she’s just improved on perfection?

Tiny gray kittens, now fluffy and dry, were at her feet wrapped in a towel. Hank tried to concentrate on them as he moved closer, but five feet from her he made the mistake of looking up and froze.

“What’s wrong? Is the storm worse?” She stood.

“No, I think it may be letting up a bit,” he said, studying the way the mass of curls danced around her shoulders. “I just didn’t know you had so much hair.”

She frowned. “I’m afraid it curls when it gets wet. I’ll . . .” Lifting her hands, she tried to pull it back.

“It’s nice. Real nice,” he said, wishing he could think of something more descriptive than “nice.” He should have told her that the beauty of it took his breath away, but words like that would never make it past the lump in his throat. She must truly have no idea how beautiful she looked.

Something wiggled in his shirt, demanding Hank’s attention. “Oh,” he said, pulling a gray cat out before she permanently scarred his chest. “I found this under the porch. Hope it’s the momma.”

Aggie laughed and took the cat from him. “Of course it’s the mother cat. She’s probably been frantic looking for her babies.”

As she sat the cat in the middle of the towel, the little mother began licking each kitten.

Hank watched. “Guess she didn’t think the storm got them clean enough.”

Aggie shook her head. “More likely she’s cleaning off my scent.”

Before either could say more, Jeb entered with a round of coffee. “I was just askin’ Mary Carol,” he bellowed, unaware he was interrupting a conversation, “how did Hank manage to leave a week ago with cattle and come back with a wife?”

Hank ignored the store owner and moved closer. “I like your choice of clothes,” he whispered before Jeb reached them. “They look right on you somehow.”

She leaned nearer, almost touching him. “Thanks for bringing the mother cat in.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, liking their whispering game.

Jeb tried again. “When did you two get married?”

“Last night, before we boarded the train,” Hank answered without taking his eyes off of Aggie. “And as for how, I asked her, and she said yes.”

Jeb laughed. “So that’s it. We was figuring she must have held that gun she’s wearing to your head and made you marry her—her being so homely and all.”

Aggie lifted the Colt from its holster as if she hadn’t heard the backhanded compliment. “Hank gave me his gun because, like my father, I’m a gunsmith.”

Hank took one of the hot mugs from Jeb and almost laughed at the man’s surprise.

When he found his voice, he asked, “A gunsmith?”

Both men stood silently as she opened one of her boxes. She pulled out her tools wrapped in oil cloth, then sat on the stool by the stove and used the checkerboard as her workbench. While they watched in amazement, she disassembled the Colt and cleaned it. She then dried the holster and rubbed the leather down with saddle soap to keep it soft.

Jeb stared at Hank. “Let me get this right. She’s not only beautiful, she can fix guns too.” He raised both eyebrows as if piecing together a puzzle. “And she married you?”

Hank laughed. “That’s about the size of it, except she wants to practice her craft. Do you think you could hang a sign in the window and take in any work folks might need done? We’ll come by every few days and deliver back and forth if she gets any business.”

“And I’ll give you a percent of all I earn, Mr. Diggs,” she added.

Jeb shook his head. “Don’t want a percentage. It’s your work. I’ll make any money for my time by selling more from the extra customers the sign will bring in. My guess is when word gets out that you’re here, you will have all the business you can handle.”

Aggie rolled up her tools. “Thank you. I have a list of tools I need.” She pulled a slip of paper from the side of the box.

Jeb took the list. “I could probably get most of them from a supplier in Fort Worth. Wouldn’t take more than a few days.” He tapped the paper with his finger. “I’ll send this order with the afternoon train.” He glanced at Hank. “And, of course, I’ll put it on your bill.”

Hank agreed but didn’t miss the surprised look she gave him. He couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d carried the slip of paper with her small box of tools.

She accepted a mug of coffee and went back to her seat beside the cats. “Thanks for the coffee and for letting me watch your kittens.”

Jeb shrugged. “In a few weeks you can have your pick of the litter.”

She grinned at Hank.

He nodded his agreement.

“We’ll take the runt,” she said and went back to watching the animals while the men talked about the weather.

When his cup was empty, Hank pulled on his slicker over his coat and asked if she was ready to leave. He slipped a new slicker over her shoulders and covered her hair with the hood, unable to resist touching the curls.

Her hand gently brushed his forearm and she whispered, “Should I change this bandage? It must be wet.”

Hank shook his head. “It’ll just get wet again. Wait until we’re home. I’ve got a good stash of medicine there.”

She agreed and Hank heard Mrs. Diggs mumble something about lovebirds.

Before they realized there was nothing between Aggie and him but a partnership, Hank waved good-bye and held the door open for his wife. “I didn’t bring the wagon into town. I thought I’d be coming back alone. You mind riding double?”

Surprisingly, she giggled. “I’ve only been on horseback a few times. My father always drove a wagon.”

Hank bumped his head against the door frame, too busy watching her and not where he was going. “I won’t let you fall,” he mumbled, thinking that if he didn’t stop staring at her and start paying attention, he’d have brain damage before the day was over.