Cowboy Capital to Ghost Town ~ D. K. Deters

In the early 1800s, Tascosa, Texas, was a campsite beside the Canadian River for hundreds of settlers heading westward. Sheepherders from New Mexico and cattlemen followed this vital crossing into the Texas Plains.

Tascosa School (Courthouse in background)

The town began in 1876, when a blacksmith built a one-room adobe by a creek called Atascosa. Shortly after, more businesses arrived, including a general store, the Exchange Hotel, the Tascosa Pioneer newspaper, and the Equity Bar.

Cowboys standing at bar inside the Equity Bar at Tascosa, Texas.

When local businesses applied for a post office under the name Atascosa, they were told the name was already claimed by a town and county in South Texas, so they dropped the “A” from the spelling.

With the addition of more businesses, the town grew and developed into two sections: Upper Tascosa, home to upstanding citizens, and Lower Tascosa, known as Hogtown, where saloons, dance halls, and soiled doves attracted a crowd.

Back in the day, several well-known ranches existed in the area, including the LS, the KIT, the Frying Pan, and the XIT.  The names of cattle barons Charles Goodnight, John Chisum, and George Littlefield have become legendary. A cattle trail connected Tascosa to Dodge City, and Tascosa soon earned the title “Cowboy Capital of the Panhandle.”

Other famous figures associated with the town include Billy the Kid, Henry Brown, Pat Garrett, and Charlie Siringo, whose names remain intertwined with the Old West.

More than twenty-five people are buried in Tascosa’s Boot Hill cemetery, including four who died from the 1886 “Big Fight at the Jenkins Saloon,” also known as the “Tascosa Gunfight.”

What led to Tascosa’s decline? Several factors over the years played a role, including barbed wire. The Frying Pan Ranch and the XIT fenced in the open range, which blocked cattle trails leading into town. The railroad bypassed the town, further isolating it, and in 1893, heavy rains flooded the Canadian River, destroying most of the buildings.

Tascosa Courthouse

While Old Tascosa is a ghost town, the area is home to Carl Farley’s Boys Ranch. The only sites remaining from Old Tascosa are the courthouse (now a museum), the frame school (converted into a home), and Boot Hill.

Tascosa School

A Marshal, a Bank Robbery, and an Engraved Winchester ~ D. K. Deters

Before signing off for the year, I wanted to provide an update on an article I wrote back in August about one of the Old West’s most complicated figures: Henry Newton Brown. If you missed it, Brown was an outlaw who became a peacekeeper, only to return to his outlaw life again.

Excerpt from Cowboy Kisses: Outlaw Henry Newton Brown

“…by 1882, Brown had made his way to Kansas, and Caldwell officials welcomed him as an assistant city marshal. He was later promoted to marshal. The gunfighter quickly cleaned up the bustling border town. Afterward, the grateful citizens raised his pay to $125 per month and awarded him with an engraved Winchester for restoring law and order.  The inscription read: 'Presented to City Marshal H. N. Brown For valuable services rendered in behalf of the Citizens of Caldwell Kas A. N. Colson Mayor Dec 1882.'

On April 30th, 1884, the marshal, in debt and living beyond his means, returned to his outlaw roots. Joined by his deputy and two outlaw friends, they robbed a bank in Medicine Lodge using the rifle the citizens of Caldwell had given to him. Two people were killed, and his gang was captured. Brown was shot the same day, trying to escape. His gang members were lynched.”

After publishing this article, I couldn’t help but dig a little deeper into the fate of the infamous Winchester—one that symbolized Brown’s rise and his ruin. Today, the 2nd Model 1873 Winchester rests in the Kansas Museum of History (part of the Kansas State Historical Society, KSHS) in Topeka, Kansas. My thanks to Boone Dodson, Museum Curator, for helping me follow the trail and for providing the museum photographs you’ll see below.

The Kansas Museum of History, reopened in November after a three-year renovation, is absolutely worth the stop. If your travels take you through Topeka, put it on your must-see list.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

She's dead broke. And eviction looms. On Christmas Eve antique consultant Madison Knight takes a phone call from local rancher Zach Murdock. Through a mix-up at an estate sale, Madison's company purchased his grandmother's beloved painting. He offers double the money for its return.

Madison risks her job to track down the artwork, but success falls short when she's stuck in a blizzard. Stranded, she seeks help from a frontier family. Are they living off the grid, or did she somehow travel through time?

Zach's the only person who knows her plan. He also knows a secret about his gran's painting. It's up to him to rescue Madison, but maybe he's not cut out to be a hero.

Christmas Once Again is available at these eBook stores:

books2read.com/ebook-Christmas-Once-Again

                                                   

Ambushed, Texas Ranger Jake Fontaine's a dead man until a Kansas spinster raises her shotgun in his defense. Despite the rogue lawman's obsession to bring in his brother's killer, duty demands he escort her to the next town.

Kat Collins is a thief, though an honorable one. She's on the run from controlling kin and aims to escape her past. Traveling with Jake offers the perfect cover—until her uncle finds them sharing a campfire and imposes his own kind of justice—a wedding.

Marriage will cost Jake his freedom, but refusing may cost him his life. Kat figures he's bound to recognize her on a wanted poster. Would sharing passionate nights in his arms be worth the peril?

The Texan's Favor is available at these eBook stores:

books2read.com/The-Texans-Favor

Outlaw Henry Newton Brown ~ D. K. Deters

I was rummaging through some western historical books recently and came across an interesting story about the infamous outlaw Henry Newton Brown. This part of his history begins in Caldwell, Kansas. Growing up in Kansas, the story immediately drew my attention.

Geographically, the town of Caldwell was known as the “Border Queen” because its southern boundary is on the Kansas-Oklahoma border. Located fifty miles south of Wichita, Caldwell was also a stop on the famous Chisholm Trail.

Caldwell, Kansas 1889 (Public Domain)

In 1880, the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroad reached Caldwell, sparking a boom for commercial establishments. Saloons lined Caldwell’s main streets with hosts of businesses as the town continued to expand. Unfortunately, Caldwell had earned a reputation as a disorderly town.

Gunfights plagued Caldwell:

1880 - A city marshal and an assistant marshal were murdered.

1881 - The mayor and a former marshal were killed in a street fight.

1882 - Another city marshal was gunned down.

As the town fell rife with lawlessness, enter notorious outlaw Henry Newton Brown, who was involved in the Lincoln County War in New Mexico. He had joined up with Billy the Kid and the “Lincoln County Regulators.” On April 1, 1878, Brown, Billy the Kid, and other desperados murdered Lincoln County Sheriff William Brady. Brown left New Mexico to avoid murder charges. After leaving the gang, he found legitimate work as a cowboy and even became a deputy sheriff, but those jobs didn’t last because he had a temper and was quickly dismissed.

 

Henry Newton Brown  - 1857-1884 (Public Domain)

However, by 1882, Brown had made his way to Kansas, and Caldwell officials welcomed him as an assistant city marshal. He was later promoted to marshal. The gunfighter quickly cleaned up the bustling border town. Afterward, the grateful citizens raised his pay to $125 per month and awarded him with an engraved Winchester for restoring law and order.  The inscription read: "Presented to City Marshal H. N. Brown For valuable services rendered in behalf of the Citizens of Caldwell Kas A. N. Colson Mayor Dec 1882.” Area papers wrote glowing articles about his deeds. Of course, they didn’t know about Brown’s outlaw past.

(Public Domain)

Brown seemed to have abandoned his life of crime and married Alice Maude Levagood, the daughter of a well-to-do Caldwell brick maker, in March 1884. A woman of good standing, Alice had graduated from Park College, Parkville, Missouri, with the class of 1882.

 

Alice Maude Levagood  - 1861-1935 (Public Domain)

On April 30th, 1884, the marshal, in debt and living beyond his means, returned to his outlaw roots. Joined by his deputy and two outlaw friends, they robbed a bank in Medicine Lodge using the rifle the citizens of Caldwell had given to him. Two people were killed, and his gang was captured. Brown was shot the same day, trying to escape. His gang members were lynched.

 

.

Bank robbers John Wesley, Henry Brown, William Smith and Ben Wheeler. 

(Public Domain)

He did write a letter to his wife which read in part: "Darling Wife: I am in jail here. Four of us tried to rob the bank here and one man shot one of the men in the bank. I want you to come and see me as soon as you can. I will send you all of my things and you can sell them. But keep the Winchester. It is hard for me to write this letter, but it was all for you, my sweet wife, and for the love I have for you. "Do not go back on me. If you do it will kill me. Be true to me as long as you live, and come to see me if you think enough of me. My love is just the same as it always was. Oh, how I did hate to leave you last Sunday evening. But I did not think this would happen. I thought we could take in the money and not have any trouble with it, but a man's fondest hopes are sometimes broken with trouble. We would not have been arrested but one of our horses gave out and we could not leave him [the rider] alone. I do not know what to write. Do the best you can with everything. I want you to send me some clothes. Sell all the things you don't need. Have your picture taken and send it to me. Now, my dear wife, go and see Mr. Witzleben and Mr. Nyce and get the money. If a mob does not kill us we will come out all right after while. Maude, I did not shoot anyone and didn't want the others to kill anyone. But they did and that is all there is about it. Now, my darling wife, goodbye. H. N. Brown."

Did Maude still love him? That is unclear, but she never remarried. Maude didn’t keep the rifle, and it became the property of the Robert R. Foster family. The Fosters later sold the gun to Dr. M. B. Aynesworth around October 1976. A short time later, in 1977, Dr. Aynesworth donated the rifle to The Kansas Museum of History in Topeka, Kansas. (The museum is on my bucket list.)

I found several articles about Henry Newton Brown. All of them are fascinating. Although nefarious acts marked Brown’s life, he was the essence of the Old West figures who changed from outlaw to peacekeeper and back again.

 

Resources:

Truewest Magazine, Lawdogs Go South Henry Newton Brown’s Gang vs Medicine Lodge Cowboys by Bob Boze Bell 

The Wild West, Lawmen, Outlaws, Ghost Towns & More by Bill O’Neal, James A. Crutchfield, and Dale L. Walker

Legends of America, Henry Newton Brown – Outlaw Marshal of Kansas

Wikipedia, Henry Newton Brown

The Stories We Share ~ D. K. Deters

 I’m a Western historical romance author. Another title might be wordsmith, storyteller, or wordslinger.

As a child, I thought my dad was the best storyteller ever. Dad was a towering figure at six foot three, wore a black Stetson, and had one of those voices that reminded me of a trail-tough cowboy. His stories also influenced why I write about the Old West today.

Like many kids, I grew up with the allure of the Old West through Westerns on television. The majority were reruns, but that didn’t sway our enthusiasm. These tales of frontier life brought our family together for a few hours every week.

My folks hailed from southeastern Kansas, where we lived for several years. Dad’s stories often included the Dalton Gang, the Benders, and the James Gang, making the Old West part of our family history.

What kind of stories? Well, my favorite is about my great-grandfather. He was born in 1860.

One day, when he was ten (or so), he was instructed to go down by the road and wait for a neighbor to bring the mail. While he waited, he passed the time playing with a deck of cards. It wasn’t long before a cowboy rode up and inquired what my great-grandfather was doing. As he explained, the stranger dismounted and asked if he might play cards, too. After a while, the fellow mounted up, but before he left, my great-grandfather asked him his name.

 The stranger stared back. “You can tell your friends you played cards with Jesse James.”

 Was he the outlaw Jesse James?

I suppose my great-grandfather could have made up the story and passed it down to his children. My dad may have just wanted to see my eyes get big. But I like to believe that Jesse James needed to stretch his legs and might have missed his children.

Can I prove it? Uh, no, but I always keep that simple story in mind when I’m writing.

It’s fun to picture this curious boy playing with bent cards that amounted to half a deck. I can see the ruts in the road from heavy wagons pulled by strong horses past corn fields and hedge post fences. It’s easy to imagine the disbelief crossing the kid’s suntanned face as the stranger galloped away.

This story prompts my imagination and transports me, if only for a fleeting moment, to that dusty road where I witness the card game between my great-grandfather and the infamous Jesse James.

Perhaps this narrative will inspire you to pen some of your relatives’ stories. The stories might seem mundane after hearing them for the umpteenth time, but your grandkids will love them!

The Fine Folks of Browns Park: Author Inspiration

by Patti Sherry-Crews

Browns Park, a Haven for Horse Thieves, Cattle Rustlers, and Outlaws

While writing my first historical western romance, Margarita and the Hired Gun, I researched the outlaw hideouts strung out along the outlaw trail—places a fleeing gang could get fresh horses, stock up on ammunition, connect with fellow gang members, and in general cool their heels without fear of the law. Hole in the Wall and Robbers Roost instantly grabbed my fancy: secret havens, never once breached by the law. Self-contained outlaw towns.

And then there is Browns Park. Browns Park or Browns Hole is an isolated mountain valley following the Green River through Colorado and Utah. It’s almost inaccessible terrain with its scattered population of independent ranchers who were sympathetic to the likes of Butch Cassidy and his sort, made it an ideal retreat.

Even today it isn’t an easy jaunt. A sign at the entrance to the park warns visitors:

“Due to the remote nature of the Refuge, visitors are encouraged to bring extra supplies including water, food, and fuel in case of emergency. Cell phone coverage is sporadic at best in this area and should not be relied upon in times of emergency. If you are planning on being in this area for an extended time, Refuge staff suggest notifying a friend or family member of your location in case you need to be contacted in an emergency.”

 I tended to glance over this “hideout” while taking notes. Nothing secret about the place. Just a bunch of mundane cattle ranches. But then while doing a series of posts about the women of the Wild Bunch, I learned about the Bassett sisters, Ann and Josie, and the other colorful inhabitants of Browns Park. Here's a quick thumb nail sketch of a few of those folks.

One enterprising early settler was John Jarvie, a Scottish immigrant. In 1880, he set up camp at a crossing used by fur trappers, Native Americans, and cattlemen. Taking advantage of the traffic, Jarvie established a store, a post office, and a ferry. Today, Jarvie’s ranch is a historical site.

John Jarvie

John Jarvie was a beloved character who met an unfortunate end. He offered his hospitality to two strangers who repaid him by forcing him to open his safe. After taking anything of value, they shot and killed Jarvie. The pair got away and when their trail grew cold, the search was called off. But Jarvie's son, Jimmy, wouldn't let it go and spent a year tracking down the killers. Unfortunately, when he did manage to find them, he fell out of a second story window and died instantly.

John Jarvie Historical Ranch (photo credit Bureau of Land Managment)

Ann Bassett, known as Queen Ann, was the first white person born in Browns Park to homesteaders, Herb and Elizabeth Bassett. It is said her mother gets credit from changing the name from Browns Hole to Browns Park when upon first setting eyes on the spot declared it too beautiful to be called a hole. Sometimes there are people who step out of the pages of history in a spectacular, larger than life way, and Ann Bassett is one of these characters. Her parents raised their daughters to be skilled at all the things including riding and shooting. Both Ann and her sister, Josie, were great beauties who had many lovers especially of the outlaw variety. Incongruous in this rough and rugged setting, the girls were well-read and refined after receiving a boarding school education.

Ann Bassett

You can read a more detailed account of Queen Ann and her cattle rustling, lover-taking, defeater of millionaire cattle baron ways in my series Bad Girls, Bad Girls.

https://cowboykisses.blogspot.com/2018/11/bad-girls-bad-girls-part-3-bassett.html

The Bassett Ranch

Ned Huddleston was born into slavery in 1849. During the Civil War, Ned served as a cook for the Confederates. After Emancipation, he headed west to Texas and Mexico traveling as a rodeo clown and bronco buster. But it wasn’t long before he turned to gambling and cattle rustling. At one point he rode with an outlaw gang, which is probably how he ended up in Browns Park.

Isom Dart

It was here that Ned decided to settle down and go straight. He changed his name to Isom Dart and bought a ranch, becoming a friend of the Bassett family. Things were looking sweet for Isom until he got caught up in the Browns Park Range War where the large cattle barons, tired of the cattle rustling behavior of the smaller homesteads, decided to rid themselves of their troublesome neighbors and grab their land in the bargain. Isom, along with other small ranchers in the valley, got a note inviting them to leave, or else. Isom chose the or-else-option. 

Isom Dart's Cabin

The notorious Tom Horn, hired by the Two Bar Ranch owner, shot Isom in cold blood as he exited his cabin. He was 51. It was Dart’s murder along with the murder of her fiance, Matt Rash, that sent Ann Bassett on a course of revenge against cattle baron, Ora Haley, that lasted for years and eventually saw her victorious.

When I started to write a new book for the Prairie Rose Publication's series Women of Destiny celebrating strong women, I had to look no further than Browns Park for inspiration. My thanks to Queen Ann, Isom Dart and all the other folks of Browns Park who lived extraordinary lives and left their tales behind to fuel a humble author's imagination.

His Unexpected Companion is set for release in July 2020. I'm sharing an unofficial blurb and the first chapter, which is from my own unedited copy. Any mistakes or typos blame me, not the editors at Prairie Rose Publications.

Unofficial Blurb:

After getting a taste of living the outlaw life, Olivia Darling wants nothing more than to return to the simple life and family she left behind on the ranch they carved out in the Colorado wilderness. She feels guilty about leaving her father and sister alone and plans to make amends.

Kit Traver, tired of practicing law in a congested city out east with its strict social structure, longs for the freeing air of his native Colorado. Traveling back home on horseback, camping out, just man and nature, will be the healing journey he needs. And when he gets home, there is a girl he intends to marry—judging by their correspondence she’s everything he wants.

When Kit and Olivia first meet in Denver it's not the best first impression. But as they find they are traveling in the same direction on the trail to their respective homes, it’s only natural they travel together—it’s obvious that woman needs his protection, if only from herself. Except when they get home she finds home is changed, while he finds home the same but he’s changed. Can they find a new sense of home together? First Kit has to find the mysterious Olivia.

First chapter:

Chapter 1

Like a warm welcome from an old friend. Presented on a plate of the finest bone china, and floating on a sea of pristine, white linen, the offering seemed to speak to him, saying, All yours. I’m here for you and you are here for me. This moment is ours. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth, moistening his lips. The impulse to lunge forward and pounce, held in check by the desire to draw out and savor the pleasure for as long as possible.

The thick slice of ham, glistening in rich brown gravy, had his mouth watering in anticipation of the sweet, salty, smoky goodness. Still steaming roast potatoes, crispy skins lightly seasoned with salt and pepper. Emerald green peas in a neat pile on the side. Heavy, scrolled silverware reflected the light from the crystal chandelier hanging above the table. A feast fit for a man of his station. 

Kit Traver looked down at the meal before him with reverence. He studied it until the image planted in his brain, taking in a deep breath through widened nostrils to pair the scents with the vision. If he were an artist, he’d immortalize it in oil paints.

“You gonna eat that or are you fixing to write a tribute to it?” Smoothing down his mustache with one hand, Henry grinned at him from across the table.

Kit glanced up, a contented smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Well, I’m sitting here thinking two things. First off, this is the last full dinner I’ll get in days. Second, I was thinking that even the food tastes and smells better in Colorado. It must be the fresh air.”

“I don’t envy you for the trip you have ahead of you, my friend. It will be beef jerky and hard tack from now on.”

He leaned forward barely able to control his excitement. “Oh, I’m looking forward to it! I’m itching to get back in the saddle—”

“Saddle sores.”

Kit looked up to the ceiling. “Sleeping under the stars—”

“On the cold, hard ground.”

“Besides it won’t be jerky and hardtack, I can hunt for my food and have some fine meals out in the wilderness as man is intended.”

“Will you be using bullets or do you think your hopes and dreams will be enough to persuade the critters to jump on your plate?”

“So cynical, Henry. You can’t imagine how hemmed in I got to feeling in that city. Boston. You don’t know how lucky you are to be so close to wide open spaces free of human congestion. A man can get out there in nature and really think. Get to know himself.”

“I’m happy here in Denver. I do get out in the backwoods occasionally, which is just about right. So, are you telling me you’re back to stay?”

Kit had to suppress the mirth bubbling up inside him, but his traitor lips quivered into a grin. “I am. Can I let you in on a little secret?”

“Sure.”

He paused long enough to get his friend’s full attention. “I’m going to get married and settle down back home.”

Henry perked up. “When’s the wedding?”

“I don’t know. I have to ask the lady first.”

Henry relaxed back into his seat. “Another Kit plan based on idealistic notions. Do you know which lady you plan to propose to?”

“Emily Partridge.”

Disappointment flickered across Henry’s face, but he staunched it so quickly, Kit chose to believe he’s misread his friend.

Henry scratched behind his ear and glanced at the table. “When did this happen? Last I heard from you, you had just got yourself engaged in Boston.”

Kit waved a hand in front of him, the episode a distant memory to him now. “I was, but by mutual agreement we decided to end things. Millicent was too...opinionated. Now, I don’t mind a lady speaking her mind, but Millicent made a competition out of it, and when the opinion expressed rarely agrees with your own….” He picked up the cut glass goblet and swallowed a sip of wine. “Oh, that’s divine.”

“How does Emily come into this? When’s the last time you saw her?”

“I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. But what happened is, I was kind of low after parting ways with Millicent, and Emily and I have always corresponded—she is a dear friend of my little sister. When I told her what happened with Millicent she expressed her sympathy and worried about me, so we wrote to each other more often. Gradually, I discovered I felt more than a passing affection for her. I would go so far as to say we have an understanding. But the engagement isn’t official yet.”

Henry’s toffee brown eyes registered concern. “Don’t do anything rash, Kit. Exchanging letters with someone isn’t the same as seeing them in person and holding a real discourse.”

“But, I can tell by her writing she’s everything I want in a wife. She’s kind and gentle. She seems to know just what to say. I appreciate a person who puts thought into their words before speaking. She’s a very...” He thought about her for a moment, sights on the plaster scroll-work in the ceiling. “She’s a very measured young lady.”

“Well, yes, she’s a nice enough girl, but I have to say this as your friend and don’t take offense.”

Kit sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “What?”

“You can be fickle where the fairer sex is concerned. I wish you’d pick one girl and stick with her.”

“Says the other bachelor at the table.”

“I don’t plan on being a bachelor forever, but when I meet the right girl I’ll….” Henry’s eyes lit up and his jaw slackened like the incarnation of his every hope and dream had just stepped into the room wrapped in ribbon and carrying a birthday cake.

Kit turned in his seat to see what had caused such a reaction.

A vision. A woman with hair the color of mahogany piled in curls on top of her head and large eyes set in an intelligent face, where all features rested in perfect proportion. Her creamy skin had a hint of rose across the cheeks. Her dress was almost the same shade of brown as her hair, only iridescent, with a silver panel on the bodice filled with pink seed beads and narrow ribbons of light green and pink. She stood in the doorway, looking from side to side.

“That’s her. That’s the woman I’m going to marry,” said Henry, his Adam’s apple rising and falling above his stiff collar.

“Hang on, sport. She’s probably looking for her husband. A lady wouldn’t be here on her own.”

Just then a waiter approached the woman and said something in a low whisper. Kit turned back around.

“...Beautiful,” muttered Henry.

The lady’s voice carried sure and clear across the room. “No, I will not sit in the lounge until my husband gets here. As I am not married, that wait could put me well beyond any dinner time in the foreseeable future.”

Kit turned sideways and cocked an ear in the direction of this unseemly display. 

“Madame, I’m sorry we cannot serve unaccompanied ladies in the restaurant. Perhaps you’d like dinner sent up to your room?” said the waiter, still speaking in a quiet voice.

“I don’t think I would like that. Do you know how long the evening can be when you’re trapped in a room? Hmmm? Thought not. No, I’m going to sit at a table right here.”

The waiter bent and said something so low, Kit couldn’t hear him. Henry was staring, his face frozen.

“I have one particular talent. Do you want to know what that is?” She continued to the waiter, her voice louder now. 

Kit and Henry exchanged wide-eyed looks. Faces turned as other diners honed in on the conversation taking place. And though he hadn’t been aware of it until it's deafening silence, the chatter of silverware on bone china ceased. The waiter must have asked her what her one talent was because she answered with her voice very loud now.

“I can shout longer and louder than anyone else in my family. Came in handy when Ma wanted everyone called in from outdoors. Want to hear me? No? Thought not…” she leaned toward the man whispering in her ear. “Yes, get the manager by all means. The service here is appalling.”

Kit spun around again to get a glimpse of this trouble-making woman, who must surely be ashamed of herself. She stood tall and straight, her chin tilted upwards. In the dim room, lit only by candles and gas lights on the walls, she shimmered from head to toe. 

The image of a rainbow trout of many hued scales stilled in a mountain stream came to his mind. Oh, he knew this was not the most romantic description but seeing her now, he could almost smell the pine trees and hear the tinkling of water running down a brook. Wild, yet majestic. Holding its own against an opposing current.

She looked at her audience with an unflinching countenance. The maître d’ made his way toward her, and all prepared for the next act in the drama. 

Henry leaned in. “Oh, here we go. It’s time someone put her in her place.”

Though not his concern, Kit blushed with shame on behalf of the woman. Sometimes you just get yourself in a situation that was hard to dig out of. He understood that. He wanted to look away, but he was riveted to the unfolding scene. The maître d’ tilted his head sideways as he quietly explained something to the woman.

She sucked in her cheeks. “I see. Thank you for explaining why a woman traveling alone cannot sit down to a nice meal.” Her voice raised as if addressing the room. “However, though you haven’t exactly voiced this, what I infer from your explanation is you appear to take a dim view of your fellow beings. Either my presence is likely to result in the gentlemen here to behave in base ways—which I very much doubt since as you say yourself this is a respectable establishment not a saloon—or I am here to procure more than a meal. Rest assured I am not a prostitute.”

The sound of cutlery hitting plates filled the room. Someone choked on their food.

She met the flustered maître d’s eyes. “I have money of my own and intend to spend it lavishly in your establishment. Now if you will kindly see me to a table... You may tuck me in a corner if that makes you feel better, and we shall see how well everyone behaves themselves.”

He thought she was going to get shown the door for sure. But, instead the maître d’ gave a slight bow from the waist and led the way to a table. 

When she passed their table, Henry ducked his head and put up a hand to shield his face, but Kit couldn’t look away. She turned her face to him as if deigning to acknowledge his presence. His mouth went dry and his chest expanded, holding a deep breath when their eyes met. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had startlingly light blue eyes, he noted. 

When she was seated at a table, everyone went back to their meals and companions with an uneasy caution.

Henry patted his mustache down again. “Well, hell, that was really something you don’t see every day. Talk about your opinionated woman.”

“Extraordinary,” was the only expression Kit managed to utter.

The woman now sat at a table across from him in his direct line of vision. 

She unfolded the linen napkin and placed it in her lap with great calm as a waiter approached. “I’ll start with the oysters, please. And follow that with the biggest steak you have, so rare it calls for mercy when I stick my fork in it.”

“Yes, madam,” the near-terrified waiter said.

“Oh, and bring me a brandy, please.”

“I’m sorry. Women aren’t served alcohol here.”

Henry put down his fork on his plate with a loud clunk. “Here we go again.”

Rather than go into another tirade, the woman sat with a dumbfounded expression on her face as the waiter scurried away.

“Excuse me!” An elderly gentleman seated with his wife caught the waiter before he got far. “I’d like a snifter of brandy, please.”

The waiter returned and handed the gentleman his brandy, leaving with a quick bow. Shock fell over the room again when the man stood up and took the brandy over to the woman seated alone.

“My dear. Do enjoy your brandy,” he said, putting the glass on the table in front of her.

At his table, the man’s wife beamed with pride at her husband.

The single lady smiled, and when she did so, Kit felt his insides shift downward. She had a dazzling smile.

He breathed out a sigh of relief the drama ended and went back to his food, which had grown cold. Annoying. His last good meal in the near future almost ruined. He thought about asking the waiter to reheat his plate, but then decided the poor man had been through enough this evening. He grudgingly cut off a piece of ham and shoved it in his mouth.

As he chewed he felt someone watching him. He startled when he looked up and found the mysterious woman boldly taking a bead on him. When their eyes met, she closed one eye in a slow, lazy wink.

Brazen! Bold as Brass.

He quickly looked down at his plate. He felt shaken to his very core. Appetite gone.

***********

You can find books,both contemporary and historical, by Patti Sherry-Crews at http://pattisherrycrews16.wix.com/author-blog