Author's Note: I realized in Chapter Five I had typed January instead of December, so I went back and changed it. I really wanted the Christmas scene I wrote, so my apologies for the error. Anyways, here's a chapter for your Saturday morning!


Chapter Seven

Mattie had a pleasant Christmas in Fort Worth, even being so far away from home. Mrs. Lee cooked ham and potatoes, and Mrs. Brown baked a pie. LaBoeuf found them a scrawny pine tree which they decorated with cranberry garlands and dried oranges.

For entertainment, LaBoeuf regaled them with exciting stories of his time in the Rangers, fighting bands of Comanche and Apache Indians, and of hunting the outlaw Sam Bass under the authority of Captain Junius Peak.

Mattie listened to his stories with skeptical interest. She was sure he exaggerated in most, but the elderly ladies and Mr. Leroy seemed enthralled, so she kept her opinions to herself.

She preferred hearing the stories of his childhood in Louisiana with his three brothers, which he had spoken of to her on many occasions.

His mother had been widowed when he was only four, and later had suffered from seeing all of her sons go to war. They had all returned, though not without scars. LaBoeuf had been too young to see the beginning of the war, and had only joined up in the last six months. When he spoke of his time in Shreveport sacking oats for General Kirby-Smith, it was not without bitter regret. He had wanted to fight, but had not gotten the chance. Mattie thought perhaps, this was one of the reasons he acted so big—to cover up the shame he felt for not being in the Calvary.

After the war he had moved to Texas, where he sporadically fought in the Indian Wars. When the Texas Rangers were formed, he had joined to fight the growing problem of outlaws robbing banks and trains across the south.

As Mattie sat there pondering over his list of accomplishments, she realized she did not know what he was doing in Fort Worth. He was gone for days at a time, arresting outlaws and breaking up skirmishes between Indians and settlers, she had assumed. But now she wondered if that was all of it. He had never told her, and she had never asked.

She decided to ask him over dessert, but he successfully evaded answering by taking a large bite of his pie, then jumping into a story of how he had been surrounded by five Kiowa-Apache warriors and escaped by the skin of his teeth.

Mr. Leroy and Mrs. Brown were thrilled, but Mattie had heard the story before, and with a sigh, excused herself to help Mrs. Lee make coffee.

"That Texas Ranger of yours is a mighty fine man, Miss Ross." Mrs. Lee said conversationally as she se the water to boil.

Mattie stared at her, her eyes narrowing.

"He is not my Texas Ranger, Mrs. Lee," she said in a sharp tone. "We had the occasion to meet five years past when my father was murdered by the outlaw Tom Chaney, and then again when Harry Roberts was taken, but that does not make him mine. The Lord knows why he is here in Fort Worth. He seems unwilling to inform me of his reasons."

Mrs. Lee glanced up at her with wide eyes as she poured the boiling water over the coffee grounds.

"My dear, he is a Ranger. Why he is here is probably under the cloak of secrecy."

"Indian skirmishes and outlaws are no secret, Mrs. Lee," Mattie replied churlishly. She knew she sounded childish.

Over the coffee pot, Mrs. Lee was scrutinizing her in such a way that made Mattie uncomfortable.

"I'll serve coffee," she said quickly, taking the pot from Mrs. Lee and going to the parlor.

There LaBoeuf was doing an imitation that to Mattie looked suspiciously like a drunk man falling off a horse. When he saw Mattie, he grinned and said,

"I was just telling them him how "the sun" got in Reuben Cogburn's eye while he was drunk on whiskey and shooting at corn dodgers,"

Mrs. Brown was clapping with glee.

"Oh, how exciting!" she exclaimed as Mattie handed her a cup of coffee.

"As I recollect, you were drunk as well, Mr. LaBoeuf, and did not hit more than two in a row yourself," Mattie said to him as they sat down on the horsehair sofa with their own coffee.

"That is a falsehood, Miss Ross," LaBoeuf said seriously. "I was not drunk; I was suffering from my injuries."

"Oh, was that it?" she returned waspishly. "And all that whiskey you partook of with Mr. Cogburn and Captain Finch had no affect on your sensibilities, or your tongue for that matter?"

"As I recall, my tongue was bitten near through," he protested, spilling a little of his coffee.

"Yes, but it didn't keep you from using it," Mattie shot back with a triumphant look.

LaBoeuf opened his mouth to retort, but then had the grace to look sheepish.

They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their coffee until Mattie finally broke it saying,"I often wonder about Mr. Cogburn."

She could feel LaBoeuf watching her, and she was uncertain whether to continue, but the words spilled out under their own volition.

"He told me he would visit when he came to Little Rock, but he never did come, nor did he write more than a few words."

She looked up at him, her mouth dry.

"Neither did you. I wrote you once and sent the letter to Austin. I always supposed you would write back, being an educated man."

LaBoeuf was frowning at her in a thoughtful manner.

"I never received a letter from you," he said slowly, "though I was in Austin. What did you write?"

"Oh, this and that," Mattie said, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "News of our farm, my sister Victoria, and Little Frank."

She didn't tell him that she had also written of how difficult it was to adjust to life with only one arm. How she had been learning to do basic chores again, how the phantom pains had interrupted her sleep and left her exhausted, or how much she would have enjoyed a visit from him.

Immediately after sending the letter, she had burned in embarrassment at how silly she'd sounded. She had waited for a reply for months, but had finally given up hope.

Truthfully, she had not thought about it in a very long time, and she was relieved that he had never received it.

"I am sorry I never wrote," LaBoeuf said, breaking her reverie. "I never thought you would care much if I did."

Now it was Mattie's turn to look sheepish.

"I said a great many harsh things to you, did I not?"

"And continue to say," LaBoeuf said cheerfully. "In the last week alone, I believe you have called me a rodeo clown five times, a Texas brush-popper twice, and a Texas-jaybird once."

He frowned at her in mock anger.

"What is this disdain you hold for Texas?"

Mattie allowed herself to smile.

"I have less disdain now than before," she said, mollified. "The people of Texas have treated me well, and for that I am very grateful."

"I am glad to hear it," LaBoeuf replied with a considerable amount of pleasure. "Very glad, indeed."

Caught up in the warmth and contentment of the evening, she didn't press him to tell her why he remained in Fort Worth.

She eventually discovered the reason, though it was a considerable time later. Much later than either could have anticipated.