A LONE STAR CHRISTMAS
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE with J. A. Johnstone
CHAPTER ONE
Marshall, Texas, March 12, 1890
It was cold outside, but in the depot waiting room, a wood-burning, pot-bellied stove roared and popped and glowed red as it pumped out enough heat to make the waiting room comfortable, if one chose the right place to sit. Too close and it was too hot, too far away and it was too cold.
There were about nine people in the waiting room at the moment, though Rebecca knew that only four of them, including herself, were passengers. Two weeks earlier, Benjamin Conyers, better known as Big Ben, had taken his 21-year-old daughter into Fort Worth to catch the train. Now, after a two-week visit with Big Ben’s sister in Marshall, Texas, it was time for Rebecca to return home. Her Aunt Mildred had come to the depot with her to see her off on the evening train.
Everyone agreed that Rebecca Conyers was a beautiful young woman. She had delicate facial bones and a full mouth; she was slender, with long, rich, glowing auburn hair, green eyes, and a slim waist. She was sitting on a bench, the wood polished smooth by the many passengers who had sat in this same place over the last several years. Just outside the depot window, she could see the green glowing lamp of the electric railroad signal.
“Rebecca, I have so enjoyed your visit,” Mildred said. “You simply must come again sometime soon.”
“I would love to,” Rebecca replied. “I enjoyed the visit as well.”
“I wish Ben would come with you sometime. But I know he is busy.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “Pa always seems to be busy.”
“Well, he is an important man,” Mildred said. “And important men always seem to be busy.” She laughed. “I don’t know if he is busy because he is important, or he is important because he is busy. I imagine it is a little of both.”
“Yes, I would think so as well,” Rebecca said. “Aunt Mildred, did you know my mother?”
“Julia? Of course I know her, dear. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“I don’t mean Julia,” Rebecca said. “I mean my real mother. I think her name is Janie.”
Mildred was quiet for a long moment. “Heavens, child, why would you ask such a thing now? The only mother you have ever known is Julia.”
“I know, and she is my mother in every way,” Rebecca said. “But I know too, that she wasn’t my birth mother, and I would like to know something more about her.”
Mildred sighed. “Well, I guess that is understandable,” she said.
“Did you know her? Do you remember her?”
“I do remember her, yes,” Rebecca’s Aunt Mildred said. “I know that when Ben learned that she was pregnant, he brought her out to the house. You were born right there, on the ranch.”
“Pa is my real father though, isn’t he? I mean he is the one who got my real mother pregnant.”
“Oh yes, there was never any question about that,” Mildred replied.
“And yet he never married my mother,” Rebecca said.
“Honey, don’t blame Ben for that. He planned to marry her, but shortly after you were born Janie ran off.”
“Janie was my birth mother?”
“Yes.”
“What was her last name?”
“Garner, I believe it was. Yes, her name was Janie Garner. But, like I said, she ran off and left you behind. That’s when Ben wrote me and asked me to come take care of you until he could find someone else to do it.”
“That’s when Mama, that is Julia, the woman I call Mama, came to live with us?”
“She did. You were only two months old when Julia came. She and Ben had known each other before, and everyone was sure they were going to get married. But after the war, Ben seemed—I don’t know, restless, I guess you would say. Anyway, it took him a while to settle down, and by that time he had already met your real mother. I’ll tell you true, she broke his heart when she left.”
“Why did my real mother leave? Did she run away with another man?”
“Nobody knows for sure. All we know is that she left a note saying she wasn’t good enough for you,” Mildred said. “For heaven’s sake, child, why are you asking so many questions about her now? Hasn’t Julia been a good mother to you?”
“She has been a wonderful mother to me,” Rebecca said. “I couldn’t ask for anyone better, and I love her dearly. I’ve just been a little curious, that’s all.”
“You know what they say, honey. Curiosity killed the cat,” Aunt Mildred said.
Hearing the whistle of the approaching train, they stood up and walked out onto the depot platform. It was six o’clock, and the sun was just going down in the west, spreading the clouds with long, glowing streaks of gold and red. To the east they could see the headlamp of the arriving train. It roared into the station, spewing steam and dropping glowing embers from the firebox. The train was so massive and heavy that it made Rebecca’s stomach shake as it passed by, first the engine with its huge driver wheels, then the cars with the long lines of lighted windows on each one disclosing the passengers inside, some looking out in curiosity, others reading in jaded indifference to the Marshall depot which represented but one more stop on their trip.
“What time will you get to Fort Worth?” Aunt Mildred asked.
“The schedule says eleven o’clock tonight.”
“Oh, heavens, will Ben have someone there to meet you?”
“No, I’ll be staying at a hotel. Papa already has a room booked for me. He’ll send someone for me tomorrow.”
“Board!” the conductor called, and Rebecca and her aunt shared a long goodbye hug before she hurried to get on the train.
Inside the first car behind the express car, Tom Whitman studied the passengers who would be boarding. He didn’t know what town he was in. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what state he was in. It wasn’t too long ago that they’d left Shreveport. He knew that Shreveport was in Louisiana, and he knew it wasn’t too far from Texas, so he wouldn’t be surprised if they were in Texas now.
“We are on the threshold of the twentieth century, Tom,” a friend had told him a couple of months ago. “Do you have any idea what a marvelous time this is? Think of all those people who went by wagon train to California. Their trip was arduous, dangerous, and months long. Today one can go by train, enjoying the luxury of a railroad car that protects them from rain, snow, beating sun, or bitter cold. They can dine sumptuously on meals served in a dining salon that rivals the world’s finest restaurants. They can view the passing scenery while relaxing in an easy chair, and they can pass the nights in a comfortable bed with clean sheets.”
At the time of that conversation, Tom had no idea that within a short time he would actually be taking that cross-country trip. Now he was in one more town of an almost countless number of towns he had been in over the last six days and ten states.
This town wasn’t that large, and although there were at least ten people standing out on the platform, there were only four people boarding, as far as he could determine. One of those boarding was a very pretty young, auburn-haired woman, and he watched her share a goodbye hug with an older woman, who Tom took to be her mother.
One of the passengers who had just boarded was putting his coat in the overhead rack, just in front of Tom.
“Excuse me,” Tom said to him. “What is the name of this town?”
“Marshall,” the passenger answered.