The Women in Pants Read online

  It clouded her mind. She felt there was more she could do, yet she also knew that Jonas needed help, so it was only right that she should need help too. But from where? Would anyone see her posters? Would anyone come from the other towns?

  She slid to Jonas’s side of the bed and smelled his scent upon the pillow. She breathed it in deep. Nighttime was when Jonas had his best ideas. Perhaps the night would send her a guiding thought. She said a silent prayer of thanks for Jonas’s life, for Katie finding him, for Doc Galen’s knowledge, and for Jonas’s scent upon the pillow. She drifted away wishing his head was on the pillow as well.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning found Mary at her small mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in her best dress. It was a flowered print that was saved for special occasions—or, as in this case, whenever her regular dress was splotched with blood. Her reasons for the dress went beyond necessity. She wanted Jonas to see her at her best. And she wanted to look nice for my father. He was the idea that came to her overnight.

  She was adjusting her bonnet when Katie rushed in carrying a bucket. “Wagon’s hitched, chickens fed, eggs gathered and Henrietta’s milked, ornery old thing. Can we please go see Pa now?”

  “Put the milk in the root cellar to keep cool. Might be a while before we’re back.”

  Katie sighed but did her mom’s bidding. In a little over an hour, they were in front of the doctor’s office.

  “You go ahead,” Mary said. “I’ll be along soon.”

  “Don’t you wanna see Pa?”

  “I want to bring him some good news. Most likely he could use some.”

  The Secluded Springs Bank was small but sturdy. There were two offices in the back, one of which housed the safe. There was one teller window in the front and due to circumstances beyond my control, I was the teller standing behind it. Now that you finally get to meet me, I suppose I owe it to you to describe myself. I was 20 then and had turned away enough gentlemen callers to know I was pretty (though my being the banker’s daughter was likely the attraction for some). My hair was light brown with a tinge of red, and my attitude was decidedly unpleasant because I was as bored as can be.

  Mary’s smile and bright dress burned off some of the fog I was in.

  “Good to see you, Mary. I’m so sorry to hear about Jonas getting hurt.”

  “Thank you, Laurie. Takin’ over for Fred today?”

  “He’s like every other thick-headed man around here. Took off for Leadville to make his fortune. Daddy says I have to work the window until Fred wises up and comes back.” I gave her my best there-has-to-be-more-to-life-than-this smile. “It’s not exactly boiling over with activity.”

  “Then perhaps your father would have time to meet with me.”

  My father—Mr. Lawrence Michaels—is small and thin but with a voice and gestures bigger than any room he’s in. He is also a patient, thoughtful listener and he gave Mary his full attention as she sat on the edge of the wooden chair across from his desk.

  “So, as you can see, a slight extension of the mortgage is all I’m asking. Just enough to see us through fall and winter. Jonas’ll be ready to sell the cattle next summer.”

  “Mary –”

  “By then the men will be back and —”

  “Mary.”

  Before my father could get going on a speech, Mary squared her shoulders and got to what was, for her, the bottom line. “You know we’re good for it, Mr. Michaels. We’ve never missed a payment.”

  It was also the bottom line for my father.

  “That’s just the thing, Mary. It’s Jonas that’s made the payments, not you. It’s Jonas that I’ve banked on.”

  “We’re a family and Jonas —”

  “And Jonas is hobbled. Maybe worse than hobbled.”

  “Doctor Galen is confident that —”

  “Doc is a fine man and in any other year his confidence might be enough. My business is risk, calculated risk. And with so many folks taking out their savings for a wild silver chase, I have no room for more risk. I also have a responsibility to my shareholders. I’m sorry, Mary. I’m a banker, not a gambler. I cannot add to or extend the loan any further. Please understand that when the note comes due in its full amount in the fall, though I won’t enjoy a second of it, I’ll have to foreclose.”

  I’m trying to be as true to the facts as I can in this story, so I must confess to listening at the office door. When I heard my father’s chair scoot back, I scurried back to my post, both understanding of my father yet sickened by his position. A banker’s daughter can afford to see both sides, whereas a banker doesn’t have that luxury.

  The door opened and Mary strode past me with a quick nod. I wanted to reach out and tell her how sorry I was that life was piling up on her, but she was out the door just like that. I turned back to see my father standing in his doorway.

  “I suppose you were listening at the door.”

  “Yes, sir. Just to hear Mary. Your voice carries enough.”

  He shook his head, turned back into his office and slammed his door, no doubt asking himself if any of the money he’d paid to send me to finishing school in St. Louis had been money well spent.

  If Jonas had said “fine” when she asked him how he was doing, then Mary would have known he was in a lot of pain. But since he said “I’m all right,” she knew the pain was considerable indeed. The more his emphasis on how well he was doing, the worse he was. That made it hard for her to fill him in on her plan to save the ranch by extending the loan, and even harder to let him know it didn’t work.

  “So no money from Mr. Michaels,” she summed up. “But he does wish you his best.”

  “I can feel his kind thoughts healing me already.”

  Jonas shifted in an attempt to rise, but the clear burst of pain caused him, Mary, Katie and Doc to all wince. His tan had already turned to cream. Now any remaining color drained away.

  “Now you just settle in for a long rest,” said Doc. “There’s no hurrying this. Kind thoughts are exactly what you need. Your own.”

  “My side tells me not to move, Doc. But the rest of me knows that layin’ here won’t pay the mortgage.”

  “Neither will doing something stupid and losing that leg. I can get you whiskey and laudanum for the pain, but the only cure for the damage is time. So let me put my doctoring instructions in the simplest terms possible: don’t move ’til I tell you.”

  “Maybe the wires I sent will work,” said Mary. “Or some hands will happen along.”

  “That’s the spirit,” said the doctor, his eyes bright and sparkling. “Who’s the finest man in north Texas? Next to me, of course.”

  “My husband.”

  Doc turned to Jonas. “And who’s the finest woman.”

  Jonas smiled. “My beautiful bride.”

  “Exactly. God won’t let two fine people like yourselves stay down for long. Something’ll happen, an idea’ll come along.”

  Katie’s voice was sad and thoughtful. “I could try to find a job, but I don’t think there’s a soul hirin’ right now.” Then she brightened. “Maybe I’ll meet a rich young man!”

  “There,” said Doc as his smile grew. “New ideas are springing up already.”

  Mary and Jonas could only look at Katie with the mixture of love and weariness that parents everywhere understand but their children never do.

  Katie immediately went on the defensive, hands on hips, nose in the air. “I might. I happen to be quite a catch.”

  Jonas tired quickly and it wasn’t long before Doc scooted Mary and Katie out the door. Mary knew the injuries contributed, but that it was also the thoughts of losing the ranch that wearied her husband. They wearied her, too. She needed to talk and the fortunate thing about being in town was that her friend, Sally, was right down the street.

  After sending Katie on an unnecessary errand (“Go down to Mickel’s to see if anyone’s stopped by. I’ll be along soon.” “But Ma, you were just by there.” “Go anyway.”), she made a beeline
for the seamstress shop. Sally was working her sewing machine, but she took her feet off the pedals and rushed to meet Mary when she heard the door.

  “Mary! Oh, it’s so good to see you. I’ve been meaning to visit, I really have. It’s just…” Her voice and smile faded for a flash of a second before returning. “Oh, pay me no mind. How’s Jonas?”

  “Bad. Better, but bad.”

  “His leg?” She led Mary to her sitting area.

  “Doc says it should heal eventually. It’s his spirits that worry me, Sally. He thinks he’s let Katie and me down. I don’t know of an answer to clear his mind of it.”

  Sally patted Mary’s leg and gave her a small grin. “He’s a worrier, same as you. It all comes from caring too much.” There was always a calm practicality about Sally. She was what some people called a handsome woman rather than pretty, though that’s a term I still think of as manly. There was nothing manly about Sally, except that a woman in her mid-twenties shouldn’t look as weary as Sally often did. “Plus, all he has right now is time to think.”

  “Time to think’d sure be a luxury to me.” Mary wiped back an oncoming tear. “My big idea is writing ‘help me’ on papers no one’s around to see.”

  “I ain’t much brighter, making dresses for no one to buy.”

  Silence in the presence of a friend is comforting, and the two basked in it for a moment. It seemed that each had more to say but lacked the energy to say it. Sally poured Mary a glass of water, then broke the silence as she lowered the pitcher.

  “Henry left again.”

  “Oh, Sally. For the silver?”

  “Before then. Just disappeared like before. No word.”

  “You poor thing.” Mary took her hand and they drew strength from each other. “Where do dreams go? They seem so close and then…”

  Now it was Sally’s turn to wipe away a tear with the sleeve of her dress. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s up to us to go find ’em, ’cause they sure don’t stay close.”

  The late afternoon sun shone red behind Mary and Katie as they rode the old wagon on the weathered trail toward home. Katie had never been shy about asking questions and she stayed true to form.

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “Same thing women have always done. Whatever it takes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the cattle need to get to market to get us the money to save the ranch and care for your father. So we get the cattle to market.”

  “But how?”

  That, of course, was the question for which Mary had no ready answer. As sleep overtook her that night, an answer still seemed far away.

  At the dusty slide-click of a horse’s hoof, Mary woke at once. Years on the range had taught her to distinguish unusual sounds even in the deepest sleep, and that sound didn’t belong. A foot shuffled. Human. Definitely didn’t belong.

  Mary sprang from her bed and snatched Jonas’s pistol from a holster hanging above the bed. Katie appeared at her side. “I heard it, too.”

  All senses alert, they pushed open the hanging quilts and strained to listen over the sound of their racing hearts. It was well before sunrise, that time of day where the glow has begun deep on the horizon but the moonlight, if any, still dominates. The moon was slight, and the two women could see no movement through the two small windows.

  In the dim light that entered their home, Katie could see Mary motion toward the door with a knowing look. Katie understood. She lowered the rifle from the rack above the door frame and tip-toed back to her mother.

  Even in the summer, the room felt cold to them after leaving their warm beds and the unknown cause of the noise increased the chill. Mary’s mind raced through possibilities. Indians? The army and the Rangers had pretty much established an uneasy peace with the Mescalero Apaches, and their settlement was more than 70 miles away, but there was always the threat of a rogue war party. Bandits? Murderers? Worse than murderers? It was all guesswork and she needed answers.

  Gesturing for Katie to take the far window, she crept up to the other. The weight of the gun kept her right hand from shaking. The left hand tapped at her thigh. She nodded at Katie and together they eased up and peered out. Against the small pink oval of the waking sun, they could make out several silhouettes. The two women must have been more visible than they thought, because one of the silhouettes began to wave with girlish joy.

  “Hi, Katie!” shouted Prudence. “We’re your new cattlehands!”

  Chapter 6

  “You scared us half to death.”

  Mary had everyone inside now. She’d changed out of her nightclothes, splashed water on her face and sipped some of the coffee Ruth had made. She gave all of us—Ruth, Prudence, Sally and myself—a look that was somehow appreciative and dismissive at the same time. We likely did look out of place in our dresses, fresh-scrubbed and ironed as if we were off to Sunday church.

  “We might’ve been a bit overanxious about getting out here,” said Sally. “But we were gonna wait ’til sunup before telling you our idea.”

  “Well it’s the craziest idea I ever heard.”

  “I think we could do it, Ma,” Katie spoke up.

  “Now don’t you start. Six women driving cattle.” I thought she might spit, but she locked her gaze on me instead. “Laurie Michaels, why would you even think about leaving your father and the bank?”

  “There’s more to life than being the banker’s daughter. Things I want to do, new towns I’d like to see.” It was the first time I’d said out loud what I’d been feeling for the past few years. It felt good.

  “Same goes for me, Mary,” Sally chimed in. “I’d like to open a real dress shop, see rich ladies wearin’ my designs…”

  “We ain’t moved a cow past the barn and you’re already opening up a new store in a big city. We ain’t there quite yet.” She pointed the hand with the coffee cup at Ruth. “Don’t tell me sixty days of eating dust and sleeping on the ground appeals to you, Ruth.”

  “It sure don’t. But slavin’ away here while that no-good man of mine is out adventuring… it galls me.”

  “You’re barely 90 pounds.”

  “You’re sellin’ cattle, not me.” Ruth squared her shoulders and made her stick-figure frame look as big as she could. “And I’m wiry — I’ll hold up.”

  “Mrs. Bartlett?” It was Prudence’s turn.

  “I know, Prudence. You want an adventure and you want to find a man.”

  “Yes, ma’am. But I what I really wanted to say was, we’re all you got. We’re here and we’re willin’.”

  I must confess that Prudence was someone I’d never given much thought. She was pleasant in the times I’d met her, but she not only said things that didn’t strike me as very bright, she also had a tone in her voice that always made her sound like she just woke up. Words came out slowly and had a kind of echo that implied they came out of an empty head. But in this particular instance I thought she stated our case as well as anyone. Everyone did, because heads were nodding all around. Even Mary had slowed her protest. She just needed one more little push to move her off her hard stance and I had the key fact to balance Prudence’s simple statement.

  “It’s business first with my father, Mary. Even if he hates doing it, he will foreclose.”

  “We have to try,” added Katie. “For Pa. For the ranch.”

  Mary looked us over, face by face, seeing nothing but earnestness and a desire for action. Her shoulders dropped slowly as her lips curled in a grin of resignation. “One day. We’ll try it for one day.”

  That moment we became the first cattlehands in history to hug each other in excitement. We stood together, embraced in our bright dresses and in the bravery that women share when banded arm in arm. The now-orange morning sun poured through the east window upon our smiling faces, and we basked in it. None of us thought about how many miles we had to travel or how much dust we’d have to swallow. We didn’t think about storms or rustlers or Indian Territory or snakes or hunger or a
ny of the hundred other dangers we could very well be facing. Some of us, and I count myself in this category, had our selfish reasons for wanting to get on the move, but the top reason for all of us, the heart of our bond, was pure: we wanted to help our friends.

  “You’ll likely regret jumpin’ in with me,” Mary said with watery eyes. “I’ve never been farther than 30 miles from here since we started the ranch. But I love you all for this.”

  Of course that led to another round of hugs, perhaps not what normal cattlehands mean by “another round,” but no one would ever accuse our troupe of being normal.

  Sally had been the instigator. It had felt so good for her to talk with Mary. The pains in their lives were different, but their willingness to take each other’s pain into their hearts had turned their friendship into a bond. A little over a year earlier, the second time that Henry had disappeared from Sally without a word, she went to the house and cried in Mary’s arms. Up until then, only Mary had known that Sally was keeping company with Henry. No matter Sally’s skills with a needle and thread, if the pious women of the town, the ones that shared tea with my mother, had known of Sally’s unmarried relations, her business would’ve been lost. The gap between decency and scandal was the size of a wedding band. The difference between Sally’s life and the life of a saloon girl like Pearl was her seamstress business. Sally could support herself with the shades pulled up.

  If you understand what makes a woman love a man who doesn’t deserve her love, then I question your honesty with yourself. I don’t think there’s any explaining it. For some women, there’s just a pull inside, and Sally was pulled toward Henry enough that she left the back door unlocked. Whenever Henry tired of work on the tiny farm he’d run since his parents died, the doorknob turned. But Henry was just as apt to hop on his horse and ride in any direction the wind took him. A few years of that had worn on Sally, and when she’d blinked away the tears she’d cried in Mary’s arms that day, she was struck by the most simple sight. Jonas and Katie were in the kitchen cooking eggs. He wasn’t just there for his wife, but for his wife’s friend. And he was helping, not demanding. She could easily have been jealous of her friend, but as you’d expect if you knew Sally, she was happy for Mary. Moreover, what Mary had was proof to Sally that it could be had.