To Love A Texan. Georgina Gentry

the relationship between her proud mother and her aunt had been torn asunder. “I thought I would come out and see the hotel,” she sputtered.

      “Hotel? What hotel?” The major said again.

      “Hush, Gilbert.” Mrs. Bottoms patted Lillian’s arm. “You poor dear.”

      “I drove her out to the Texas Lily,” Lieutenant Fortenbury shrugged helplessly, “I didn’t know quite how to tell her.”

      Tears came to Lillian’s green eyes but she blinked them away. “I—I haven’t quite decided what to do. It was such a shock.”

      The motherly woman gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, you don’t have to deal with that tonight, my dear. You look tired and I have a spare room.”

      A chubby civilian wearing thick glasses and leading a dumpy woman walked over just then. “Is this a stranger in our midst?”

      Mrs. Bottoms made the introductions. “Miss Primm, this is Lester Osburn, owner of our weekly newspaper, the Fort Floppett Bugle, and his wife, Gladys.”

      “Delighted to meet you,” the gentleman smiled. “We call our paper the Bugle because of the army and the fort—”

      “I get it, I get it,” Lillian said, and nodded politely to his dumpy wife.

      “Maybe I can add your name to our society column,” said Mr. Osburn, “who are you in town to visit?”

      “Uh, Lester,” said the major, “Miss Primm is Lil McGinty’s niece.”

      “Oh, dear,” said dull Mrs. Osburn, and her mouth dropped open.

      Lillian wanted to go through the floor.

      “I think,” said the major’s wife in the awkward silence, “I’d better take Miss Primm to her quarters.”

      “But I was hoping to dance with the lady,” The chubby major protested.

      “Oh, stop it, Gilbert, you old goat. Come, my dear. Do you have luggage?”

      The lieutenant said, “I had one of the privates take charge of it.”

      Lillian murmured an awkward good night and followed Mrs. Bottoms off the dance floor.

      “Such a fine young man,” Mrs. Bottoms nodded approval as she led Lillian away. “I wish we had more like him. You see how few are at our dance? I imagine most of them are over at the Lily.”

      “There were quite a few there,” Lillian admitted as they walked away. Behind them, she heard the buzz as word spread through the room about who she was. She kept her head high and ignored it. After all, she was from a fine and highborn family. She couldn’t be responsible if her aunt had done the unthinkable, marrying an Irishman and owning a bordello. Still, it was humiliating. In her genteel poverty, her family pride was all that had sustained her. There were a million questions she wanted to ask Mrs. Bottoms, but she feared to hear the answers.

      In the hallway of the building hung a large oil painting of an elderly officer. His hair was parted down the middle and he was slightly cross-eyed, with a gray mustache and a straggly beard. Lillian paused and stared at it.

      “The fort’s founder, Major Herman Floppett.” Mrs. Bottoms explained.

      “He really does resemble the goat,” Lillian said without thinking.

      “Oh, you’ve met Herman? He’s sort of the town mascot, but mostly he grazes the lawn and the orange day-lilies out in front of your aunt’s place. I presume you met the handsome devil at the Texas Lily, Brad O’Neal?”

      “What a rascal!” Lillian said as she followed Mrs. Bottoms to the officers’ quarters.

      “But a charming one,” Mrs. Bottoms murmured with a sigh. “He could convince a sparrow to fly right into a cat’s mouth.”

      “I saw nothing charming about him,” Lillian snapped, “and I’ll have to talk to Mr. Cheatum about what my legal options are.”

      “Dewey?” The lady laughed as she showed Lillian to a room. “If you’d asked around, you’d have probably seen him at one of the poker tables at the Lily tonight. He and Mr. O’Neal are friends.”

      Lillian’s spirits sagged. Evidently if Mr. Dewey Cheatum was a good friend of the gambler, he would be no ally to her.

      “My dear, the easiest thing to do would be to sell out to Brad and leave town.”

      “My mother told me the Primm family has a proud heritage dating back to the Earl of Primley who was a hero at the Battle of Waterloo against the French, so I am not one to cut and run before a low-class Texas hooligan.”

      “Bravely spoken.” The major’s wife smiled and nodded. “I imagine there aren’t many women who can stand up against Brad O’Neal’s lure.”

      “This is one respectable lady who is immune to his oily charm.” Lillian sat down on the bed.

      “Brad O’Neal is a formidable opponent, my dear. But that can all wait until tomorrow.” With that, she said her good nights and left Lillian to ponder her next move. She had liked the Texas landscape the train had taken her through, and she’d been excited about a new life and the new career of running a first-class hotel. And what she’d found was a slick rascal and a whorehouse. There, she’d said it. How could Aunt Lil have fallen so low? She bit her lip to keep from breaking into sobs and got ready for bed. Tomorrow she would decide what to do.

      The next morning, she had breakfast with the major and his wife out on the veranda of their quarters, where she could admire the roses around the lawn. “Steak for breakfast?” She couldn’t hold back her surprise.

      “After all, my dear,” the major said, “this is Texas. They have more cows than people and the local ranches keep us well supplied.”

      Lillian was used to a cup of weak tea and a slice of toast. The coffee was strong enough to float a horseshoe. Along with the steak came scrambled eggs and hot biscuits. She tried not to gobble, but the food was so good. “Tell me, Major, just what function does the fort serve?”

      The major looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “Uh,” he said, “originally, it was built to protect the stage lines from bandits and Indians.”

      “Is there a stage line?” Lillian asked, “I thought the train—?”

      “Not in forty years,” Mrs. Bottoms smiled, “and the Indians in this part of Texas were never much for war parties anyway.”

      “But what about the War?”

      Major Bottoms shook his head. “Occupied by the Union and played no part in the war—sort of the backwater of the fight.”

      “Then why does it even exist?” Lillian asked.

      “The truth is,” Mrs. Bottoms lowered her voice and leaned closer, “there’s really no reason for Fort Floppett’s existence except that it’s a comfortable post and the town relies on it for business. It’s a wonder Congress hasn’t closed it already and sent all these troops to where they’re really needed—Arizona, to fight Apaches.”

      The major shuddered. “Don’t even think about it. Arizona. No water for roses, nothing but heat, dust, cactus, and bloodthirsty Apaches. No, the soldiers love Fort Floppett, and the town of Fort Floppett loves the army. Let us hope members of Congress never come here to look around.”

      Lillian ate one more biscuit with homemade wild sand plum jelly and put down her napkin. “What time is it?”

      The major pulled out his big gold watch. “10:30.”

      “I imagine that scoundrel will be up by now at the Texas Lily.” Lillian said.

      The major laughed. “Brad? I wouldn’t bet on it.”

      His wife gave him a warning frown, then to Lillian, she said “My dear, do you really want