Life After Wife (Three Magic Words Trilogy, #3)(48)

“It’s my favorite. I love butterscotch pie, too, but seldom find it in the restaurants. Piecrust is not my specialty. When I make it, it’s like shoe leather.”

He stuck his spoon deeply into the ice cream.

She did the same.

Sharing the banana split with him was sealing their partnership forever. They’d do just fine in the cattle business. Elijah had vision and purpose, and she appreciated that in him.



Elijah hadn’t meant to keep her hand in his when he helped her off the motorcycle, but it felt good and she didn’t jerk hers away. He’d never known a woman like Sophie McSwain. Any other woman would have crumbled when she discovered her preacher husband was nothing but a glory-seeking cheater, but not Sophie. She held her head up, started all over in Baird, Texas, with Aunt Maud to guide her, and that had made her a stronger woman.

They had a battle of spoons over the last bit of butterscotch syrup. They were still laughing about who got the last drop as they left the Dairy Queen and mounted up to ride north. He’d ridden for years, had his first cycle when he was sixteen, and upgraded it every time he could until he had the Harley of his dreams. But seeing the world through Sophie’s eyes that warm September morning was a whole new vision. One that he liked very much.

It was a little over forty miles up to Fort Griffin, then another mile or so back down a winding, narrow road to the visitor’s center. They passed longhorn cattle weaving in and out among the mesquite. Big brindle bulls, spotted cows, and even a few calves bawling for their mommas when the big evil-looking machine shot past them.

The sun was high in the sky and pouring down enough heat that, when Elijah parked the cycle, sweat had moistened Sophie’s hair, making it kink up even tighter. She pulled the rubber band from the ponytail and shook her head. Red ringlets fell to her shoulders.

“Looks like you went swimming.” Elijah smiled.

“Yours is wet, too.”

“I like yours down and curly like that,” Elijah whispered.

“I like yours long and in a ponytail.”

He vowed that he wouldn’t cut it again, not even for the sale. He put a hand on the small of her back and guided her into the visitor’s center, where he pulled out a ten-dollar bill to pay the admittance fee. She hurried on past the clerk’s station to the restroom. Elijah pocketed the change and looked around at the postcards, brochures, and souvenirs offered in the small store while he waited on Sophie. He bought a keychain with a set of silver longhorns dangling from it and shoved it down in his pocket. When she came out, he grabbed her hand again and they were off to explore.



Sophie looked out across the rolling hills and tried to imagine the days when Fort Griffin and The Flat, which was the town situated between the fort and the Clear Fork of the Brazos River, was in full operation. It was billed as a place so rough that even the army left. She didn’t have a bit of trouble visualizing a place that rough and tumble back in 1860, right before the Civil War.

“I read up about this place on the Internet. Seems it had the reputation for being one of the most lawless communities in the state. It was here before Shackelford County was even formed, so there wasn’t any law except for the military,” Elijah said.

“You like military history?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah! I’m standing here trying to picture exactly what it would have been like back then when Pat Garrett, Doc Holliday, and Wyatt Earp rolled into The Flat and tangled with Lottie Deno, Big Nose Kate, and John Wesley Hardin.” He waved out across the mesquite and scrub oak dotting the hills.

“Me, too. Today you are Doc Holliday, and I’m the schoolmarm. Let’s go take a look at The Flat and go back in time.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the walking trail that led down over the hill into a flat area that housed the town more than a hundred years before.

She stopped at the jail and said, “OK, Doc, tell me something. This jail isn’t much bigger than my bedroom. What in the world did you do when there was a real saloon brawl and you had a dozen men to lock up?”

“Why, Miz Sophie, we threw them all in there together. We didn’t care if they had to sleep standin’ up. In those days there was no prisoner’s rights. They gave up their rights when they disobeyed the law. Maybe if they didn’t smell too pretty or had to stand right next to the fellow that they’d been hittin’ on, they’d think twice about startin’ a fight next time.”

She smiled and shuddered when she touched the stone walls of the jail. It had no windows and the ceiling was barely high enough for her to stand up inside. A six-foot buffalo hunter would have to sit or keep his neck bent at a terribly uncomfortable angle if he wanted to stand.

“Over here, right next door, is the saloon,” Elijah said.

“You ever been in there, Doc?” Sophie kept the game going.

“Yes, ma’am. They served some good cold brew in there, and my presence kept the fights down some of the time. Between me and Wyatt and Pat, we could maintain a little bit of order. It helped if we were right out there among the people, our badges all shiny and flashing, instead of sitting behind a desk,” Elijah answered.

“And the place where I could buy staples is right next door.” She wiggled her fingers free from his and sat down on the wooden bench in front of the store. The general store and the saloon were one rough wood building. The saloon had a peak roof and the general store a tiny little three-step facade, but they shared the porch. If she shut her eyes tightly, she could imagine bawdy piano music and the smell of ale coming from the saloon. She could see women in long skirts choosing fabric for a new dress and embroidery threads from the general store while their husbands had a brew next door. She could see buffalo in the distance and soldiers coming and going from the fort up on the hill.