Free Travis by Georgina Gentry Page B

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.