Bittner, Rosanne (32 page)

The
quilting bee was at the home of Louise Jeffers, whose husband owned the feed
store. Tess had paid him to build her house in town. Louise usually ran the
store while her husband and their two sons did carpenter work, and between the
two of them, they were considered moderately wealthy by El Paso standards.
Their home just north of town was a large, two-story frame house with a porch
that wrapped around all four sides, a place to spend hot summer days. But it
was November now, and although winter was seldom severe here, it could get very
cold.

Today
was one of those days. Tess wrapped her velvet cape tighter around herself,
wondering if it was the chill in the air that bothered her or her own chill at
having to face all the most respected women in town, including Harriet
Caldwell. A stiff wind whipped up sand, and she ducked her head against its
sting as she went up the steps to the wide veranda, thinking how difficult it
often was to keep anything really clean in this part of Texas. Louise obviously
was trying, but her freshly painted, white clapboard home already showed layers
of dust along the slanted edge of each board, and the slots of the green
shutters at the windows showed the same.

She
knocked at the fancy oak door, admiring the beveled oval glass and the lace curtain
that covered it on the inside. The door opened, and Louise greeted her rather
stiffly, but smiling. She was a short stout lady, who always walked straight as
a suck. Her graying hair was folded up at the sides and twisted into a bun at
the back, and she wore a lovely day dress, gray with a biblike insert of white
lace at the bodice. Tess felt a little better about being there. She had made
the dress herself, and was proud of her work.

"Well,
I am glad you decided to come, Tess."

Tess
wondered if she really meant it. "I appreciate the invitation." She
looked the woman over. "The dress looks lovely on you."

Louise
smiled, losing some of her aloofness. "Thank you. You do fine work, and I
have been telling the other ladies about it. I think you will have a lot more
business after today."

"Thank
you, Louise." Tess stepped inside, hanging her cape on a coat rack just
inside the hallway. "I need the work."

"Well,
there are some who highly disapprove of your marriage, dear, including me, but
what's done is done. Who of us knows what we would do in the same situation.
The fact remains, you are an excellent seamstress. Why should we waste our
money spending three times as much ordering dresses from New York and waiting
two months to get them when you can make the same garments in two weeks?"

Tess
forced back her ire over the first remark. Who were they to tell her whom she
should marry? She had never been close to any of them, had always been too busy
on the farm to do much socializing. Why should they suddenly take an interest
in her personal life? "Well, I am glad you understand the value of using
my services. The work keeps me busy, and I certainly need to, with John
gone."

She
followed Louise into the parlor, where a rack was set up and a quilt stretched
across it. Seven women sat around the rack, each one working on a different
patch. They all looked up when Tess entered the room, and she could read their
thoughts. What was it like being married to a man of Indian blood, a wild,
sometimes violent man who was as lawless as those he hunted? The trouble was,
she couldn't really say what it was like being married to John Hawkins. She had
spent only one night with him. That was over two months ago. The only thing she
knew was that one night had left a hot brand on her as real as if he'd set a
branding iron against her buttocks. She belonged to John Hawkins now, totally.
She just wasn't sure how she felt about that.

The
ladies greeted her with varied expressions—smiles, frowns, raised eyebrows,
friendly greetings—some saying nothing. Harriet Caldwell returned to her
stitching as though to ignore her completely. Louise showed Tess a chair,
positioned at one corner of the quilt. She handed her some swatches of
material, needle, and thread.

"Ladies,
we should all watch how Tess Hawkins wields a needle. We might learn something.
She will probably sew two patches to our one."

Tess
felt a little embarrassed, and some of the women seemed to warm a little at the
comment.

"Louise's
dress is lovely," Rachael Patterson told her. Rachael was the young wife
of the bank manager, a very pretty woman with light hair and green eyes.
"I definitely want you to make some things for me."

"I
would be glad to do it," Tess answered. "I need to keep busy. It
helps me not to worry so much about my husband."

She
shouldn't worry. She shouldn't even care. But she did, more every day that John
was gone. If something happened to him, she would never forgive herself for not
making his wedding night a little more memorable. She had let him make love to
her—and never had she known such pleasure—but she had quickly turned her heart
from him again, refusing to admit to her feelings. Why was she being so
stubborn about it? Why couldn't she get over the feeling it had been wrong to
enjoy having the man in her bed?

Her
remark caused all of them to look at her, and she could read their questions.
"You are all wondering about my marriage," she said, deciding to get
the uneasy situation over with. "I had no one. When Mr. Hawkins rescued me
from the Comancheros, he was very kind to me. We had a lot of time to talk, and
we became good friends. He... expressed certain feelings for me. He is not the
cruel, hardened man you all think he is. He is just a man who has a job to do,
and he does it very well. He also wants the same thing all men his age want, a
wife and family. In spite of the fact that I was not... violated... by the
Comancheros..." Did they believe that? "...I knew the few available
single men in these parts would hesitate to take me for a wife. Mr. Hawkins, however,
knows the truth—that I was untouched. And he expressed a desire to marry
me."

She
began threading her needle, needing to look away from their curious stares.
"In these parts a woman is better off not being alone. So I married Mr.
Hawkins, and he is a surprisingly gentle and sincere man, in spite of what all
of you have seen of him. In fact..." Should she tell them? Yes, this was
the perfect time. They had to believe the baby was John's. "I am with
child."

A
round of gasps circled the quilting frame, and several of the women broke into
smiles.

"Congratulations,
Tess," Louise told her.

Tess
ignored the cold disapproval of some, who she supposed considered her nothing
more than a harlot for marrying a wild man like John Hawkins, a man only women
like Jenny Simms would go to bed with.

"Thank
you," she answered. She began sewing her patch.

"I
will bring a tray of tea for everyone," Louise announced.

They
all sewed quietly for a few tense seconds, until Harriet spoke up. "You
say a woman should not be alone in these parts, yet here you are alone
anyway," she told Tess. "What good did it do to marry someone like
that wild Texas Ranger? Where is he now? He certainly is not at his wife's
side, and Rangers make hardly enough to feed themselves, let alone a family."

Tess
struggled against a growing anger. "My husband intends to quit the
Rangers," she answered calmly.
After he proves your own husband is a
cattle thief!
"We are going to rebuild at my farm, and he will begin
ranching."

"John
Hawkins? Settle down into a normal life?" Harriet sniffed. "You will
be very lucky if he even returns from this trip. He could quit the Rangers
while he is someplace else and just keep on riding right out of your
life."

"Harriet!
There is no call for such talk. You'll upset Mrs. Hawkins, and she's carrying
now." The words were spoken by Bess Johndrow, a young woman with four
small children who were playing behind Louise's house. Tess could hear their
squealing even with the windows closed against the chilly air.

"I
am not going to faint or lose my baby over ignorant remarks," Tess told
them. Her eyes, however, were on Harriet, and tenseness filled the room for a
quiet moment as Harriet reddened.

"I
think you owe Tess Hawkins an apology," Rachael told Harriet. "The
woman has been through enough. She has married John Hawkins, and that is
that."

Tess
wanted to get up and leave, but she decided she would damn well stay. At least
one of these women was sticking up for her, and they seemed convinced her baby
was John's. "Thank you, Rachael," she said quietly.

"You
are a fine seamstress," Louise added, "and one of El Paso's pioneers,
just as much as any of us. I invited you here because you live in town now and
certainly ought to be part of our gatherings. We have never had the chance to
get to know you well, Tess. Personally I am very sorry about the tragedy with
your father and first husband and the awful terror you must have suffered at
the hands of those... Comancheros. We all fear such a thing could happen to
us." She looked at Harriet. "Well, are you going to apologize?"

Harriet
sighed and looked at Tess. "I will only say that I hope I am wrong in my
opinion of John Hawkins, for your sake," she answered, looking at Tess.
"As far as I am concerned, the man is a discredit to the Rangers, in spite
of his ability to find the thieves and killers he hunts. The Rangers must cease
being considered nothing more than vigilantes. That is part of the reason for
this gathering."

"Yes,"
Louise put in. "We have decided to do all we can to further civilize
Texas, Tess. We have already written to the headquarters of two different
church denominations, Methodist and Baptist. Heaven knows there are enough
Catholic missions around here. The Mexican influence is everywhere, and I
suppose that has its place. But it is the Americans who have been building
Texas into the great state she is, since the thirties. We need churches here,
and a decent school. We will also be bringing in more teachers, and hope to
teach English to a larger number of the Mexican children. I hope you do
convince Mr. Hawkins to go into ranching and make him settle into a normal
life. As for the rest of the Rangers, they will simply have to be more
law-abiding themselves."

Tess
set her needle aside. "I suppose they will," she answered, facing
them all. "But I assure you, the kind of men they go after would kill any
of you in the blink of an eye for money. When you go after men like that, you
can't give much thought to being nice about it. I've seen firsthand what they
are like. They murdered my husband and father. They would have sold me off in
Mexico to God knows what kind of horror. Mr. Hawkins had no choice but to kill
them in order to get me out of there."

"There
have been other situations in which it was unnecessary for him to kill the men
he went after," Harriet put in. "The man often behaves no better than
those he goes after. When stories get out about things like that, it makes
Texas look bad. We intend to improve our image."

Tess
could well imagine how devastated the woman would be if she knew the truth
about her own husband. "I have no argument with that," she answered.
"But I will not sit here and listen to my husband be insulted. He is a better
man than any of you know, and it is men like John Hawkins who have made it
possible for people like us to live here." More and more she was realizing
that her feelings for John were growing deeper.

"We
are not ungrateful for the things men like Mr. Hawkins have done for
Texas," Rachael said. "We are just saying that change is in
order."

Tess
picked up the needle again. "I agree. I just find it very strange,
Harriet, that your husband would be more concerned about the death of cattle
thieves than he is about our own Texas Rangers."

The
room quieted again as Harriet stiffened. "Whatever do you mean?"

Tess
shrugged. If only they all knew what she'd heard. "Mr. Caldwell was
furious when he heard John had killed that gang of rustlers headed by someone
called Derrek Briggs. Why should he care? Texas should be glad to be rid of
them. There has been a rash of rustling going on all over west Texas. Maybe now
it will end, or at least not be quite so bad, thanks to John. But your husband
was angry about it and insulted him. It seemed very strange to me."

Harriet
held her chin defiantly. "Jim was only angry because of the
vigilante-style execution your husband used. He is one of those heading the
movement to give Texas a better reputation for being civilized. Blowing men up
inside a cabin without giving them a chance to surrender is as
un
civilized
an act as any I could think of."