JUANITA AND THE OUTLAW
by Janine Mick Wills
CHAPTER ONE
Boston, Massachusetts
July 1898
“Maddie,” Juanita López called out as she burst into her bedroom, clutching an envelop in her trembling hands. “I have received another letter from Uncle Matt.”
Forgetting the manners her chaperone, Victoria Garrett, had drilled in her, she took a flying leap and landed in the middle of her William IV bed. She tucked her slim legs under her, settled back, and scanned the letter for news from the Triple P Ranch. Her uncle’s descriptive words conjured up images of the cattle and beautiful Morgan-cross horses of which he took great pride, her dear Mamita hanging clothes on the line to dry, and her cousins fishing in Goose Neck Creek. Juanita closed her eyes and imagined the fragrance of roses at La Casa de Flores, her and Mamita’s house, and the tangy scent of pine at Cedar Ridge, her favorite place to ride her buckskin pony.
Though she had arrived in Boston only two months prior, it seemed more like two years. Homesickness stuck close to her side like a constant and formidable companion. Her stay would have been harder to bear if not for her lady’s maid, Madeline Spencer. At nearly the same age, the two had become close friends, much to the irritation of Miss Garrett, who insisted members of the household should not befriend the servants. But Juanita, who rarely voiced a contrary opinion refused to back down on that one issue.
At the close of her uncle’s letter, Juanita’s heart sank. She frowned at Maddie in disappointment. “Uncle Matt must not have gotten my last dispatch. The one in which I begged him to let me return to Texas. He would have said something otherwise.”
“I can’t figure out why you don’t like Boston. Course, I’ve never lived any other place.”
“I do enjoy Boston’s modern conveniences, its many forms of entertainment, and even some of its progressive thinking. When Uncle Matt told me I was to visit the city of his birth, I was excited.” Juanita rose from the bed. “But sometimes the shoe looks better when it is on the other foot.”
“It may look better, but it doesn’t fit better. Have you tried it?” Maddie flip-flopped her shoes and tramped awkwardly across the floor.
Juanita giggled at her friend. “My dear, Maddie, that is only an expression. It means you can imagine something one way, and it turns out completely different.”
“That’s kinda what I thought,” Maddie said, righting her shoes. “Ah. Much better. Well, maybe after you meet the young Reginald Davenport tonight, you’ll change your mind.” She tugged on a lock of Juanita’s blue-black hair. “You can fall madly in love, get married, and the two of you can buy half of Boston.”
“I may not even like Reginald Davenport.” The corners of her mouth pressed down into a frown. “And I would rather own a small plot of land in Texas than every block of this fair city.”
“Texas or not, you must chop, chop.” Maddie raised her chin and clapped twice. “If you’re not ready when Miss Garrett arrives, she’ll blame me.” She pursed her mouth. “Why do the servants always get blamed when things go wrong? Must be another benefit of having lots of money. Though your grand-uncle never acts stuffy like some of the rich folks around here.”
“Yes, he prefers the simpler life, though Miss Garret does not approve. She says a man with deep pockets should put his wealth on public display.”
“He does own the nicest estate in these parts.”
“But he does not flaunt his wealth like many of the Bostonians I have met. They believe a man’s bank account measures his worth.” Juanita slid her precious letter underneath one of the feather pillows. “And you are right. I must get ready.”
She slid out of her day dress and wiggled into her corset, then grabbed one of the posts on the four-poster bed. “You must pull the strings tighter, por favor. I mean, please.”
Juanita bit the inside of her cheek. Even after two months of Miss Garrett’s never-ending tutelage, words from Mamita’s native tongue still slipped from her lips. Especially in times of duress. Times like now.
She glanced at the gilded clock on the fireplace mantel. In a scant half-hour, Miss Garrett would arrive, and Juanita was far from ready. She visualized her chaperone, breezing into the bedroom, picking to death every detail of her gown and finding fault with the arrangement of her hair.
Juanita chided herself for her ungracious thoughts. When she had arrived at White Oak Manor and her grand-aunt refused to introduce her to Boston society, her grand-uncle implored the sometimes overbearing blonde to take Juanita under her wing. He had explained his decision to Juanita. “Though Victoria can be opinionated at times, her heart is in the right place. And she was almost family.” He also said Miss Garrett was acquainted with the crème de la crème of Boston society and would make sure Juanita met each and every one of them.
At first, Miss Garrett dragged Juanita to one exclusive dressmaker after another for endless fittings. Then she secured the services of a milliner, so bon haute any fashionable woman in Boston would have plucked out an eye to be one of his clientele.
Juanita found all the attention and frills uncomfortable as well as unnecessary. Would she not be accepted if she wore the simple frocks she had brought from Texas?
When she protested, Miss Garrett had scolded her. “The clothes are an absolute necessity. To catch a mouse, one must use the right kind of cheese.” She proceeded to teach Juanita Bostonian etiquette, starting with how to behave at a dinner party, which could consist of up to twelve courses. Juanita’s head ached from all the dos and don’ts, when and where to sit at the table, how to spread the napkin on her lap, when to talk and what to say, and which of the countless pieces of silverware to use with which dish. The instructions droned on and on until Juanita longed to eat with the kitchen staff and avoid all the fuss.
Only when Juanita was properly outfitted and her manners thoroughly rehearsed, had Miss Garrett finagled invitations to every tea, luncheon, dinner party, and ball this side of Beacon Street. Juanita soon lost track of whose home they had been in and on what day or evening. She meekly followed in Miss Garrett’s wake and tried to please her.
Maddie stopped pulling the corset strings. “This contraption is an instrument of the devil himself, and you certainly don’t need it.”
Juanita turned around to face her friend. “Miss Garrett insists I wear one.”
“But your waist is already no bigger than this.” Maddie’s hazel eyes showed incredulity as she made a small circle with the fingers of both hands. “If I pull any tighter, you won’t be able to breathe.”
“Miss Garrett would highly favor that. She said, ‘A young woman should speak to a man in a breathless voice.’ ” Juanita mimicked her chaperone’s words in a perfect Bostonian accent. Maybe all of the arduous lessons in fashion and etiquette were finally bearing fruit.
“But,” Juanita continued, “I want a man to love me for who I am, not because I possess the tiniest waist in the room.” She wrinkled her nose, causing the maid to burst into laughter.
“You look like one of your grand-aunt’s pug dogs,” Maddie said in delight.
“I do adore those charming creatures, but you must keep pulling.”
Maddie blew out a deep breath and yanked the corset strings. One of them broke, sending her backward onto the floor and pitching Juanita onto the bed. Both women dissolved into a fit of giggles.
“Oh, forget this silly thing.” Juanita motioned for Maddie to loosen the strings and then wriggled out of the undergarment. “I am tired of dressing to impress all of those jack-a-dandies who have vied for my attention since my arrival in Boston.”
Maddie said with a sigh, “I wouldn’t mind a jack-a-dandy for myself. I’d even settle for one of your handsome Texas cowboys.”
“You have been reading too many novels. Many of the cowboys out west are no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, several years younger than me. And a good many are ruffians or former outlaws who can barely read.”
“Yeah, you prefer the handsome face and dreamy dark eyes of a Greek god.”
Juanita pulled a face at Maddie. “I was fanciful when I first described the man of my dreams. How would I know what a Greek god looks like?”
Maddie tapped a finger on her cheek. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you came all this way to find a husband, and the man you’re supposed to marry is someone from back home?”
“If the right man was there, my uncle would not have insisted I come to Boston.” Juanita grew wistful. “But I miss the Triple P. I hope my letter convinces Uncle Matt to allow me to return home.”
“If he dotes on you like you say, he’ll not refuse your request. But unless you want to be wearing only that frilly petticoat when you meet the Davenports,” she pointed across the room to the armoire, “you must get dressed.”
Juanita flung open the doors of the armoire to reveal a row of gowns with their matching hats, slippers, and reticules. Guilt nudged her conscience. Why should she possess such finery when there were so many who had so little? Before Uncle Matt came into her young life, she had owned only two dresses, and those were lovingly stitched by her dear Mami.
“Miss Juanita?” The nasal voice of Mrs. Thornapple, the aide to the housekeeper, sneaked under the door. “Miss Garrett will be arriving soon. Are you ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Juanita caught her words. “I meant, no ma’am, but I promise I will be shortly.”
“I hope so,” Mrs. Thornapple replied. “It would not be wise to keep Miss Garrett waiting.” Her nasal disapproval turned into a snort and then a cough, the result of the cigarettes she smoked in the root cellar when she thought no one was around. Her coughing receded down the hallway as she returned to her chores.
Juanita tilted her head and surveyed her gowns. “Which one should I wear?”
Maddie fell away from the armoire with wide eyes and upraised palms. “Uh, uh. I’m not picking out your dress this evening. If I chose the wrong one, Miss Garrett would have my head on a pike.”
Juanita laughed at her friend’s exaggeration. She squeezed her eyes shut, reached inside the armoire, and grabbed a gown off its wooden hanger. A groan escaped her lips. She had picked the burgundy evening gown. With little time to consider another one, she threw the dress at Maddie. “Hurry. Help me put this on.”
A mischievous smile lit up Maddie’s face. “Miss Garrett will not be pleased. She insists you wear light-colored dresses until your debutante ball.”
Juanita made a wry face. “The idea of parading in front of even more eligible young bachelors like a prize pony is distasteful. At least for that, I am thankful for my grand-aunt’s reticence toward me.”
“And you still don’t know why she refuses to make plans with Miss Garrett for your coming-out party?”
“For some reason, she has chosen to distance herself from me, and I have not the nerve to approach her and ask why.”
“It is kinda strange,” Maddie said, struggling with the fabric-covered buttons that ran down the back of Juanita’s gown. “I’ve seen her up and leave when you came in a room. She even left instructions for her meals to be served in her sitting room.”
“She complains of a constant and nagging headache, but it is as though she cannot stand the very sight of me.”
Juanita swished her hands down the side of her gown to straighten a wrinkle as well as to stop thinking of why Grand-aunt Mary Helen kept shunning her. Her gaze drifted to her reflection in the vanity mirror, and she blushed at the gown’s low décolletage. Maybe she should have taken the time to choose a different dress. This gown showed more than a man ought to see before his wedding night, and she did not wish to inappropriately encourage Reginald Davenport.
She tucked a lace handkerchief in the dress’s neckline. Pleased with the modest results, she skimmed her waist-length tresses with a brush. 
Maddie snatched the brush away. “Here. Let me do that.”
Juanita was grateful for Maddie’s intervention. Not only had she grown tired of making decisions about what to wear but also on how to style her hair. Back home on the Triple P, she either tied her hair in a ponytail or wove it into a thick plait.
With a skilled hand, Maddie braided Juanita’s hair into graceful loops that skimmed the top of her shoulders. She pinched off several white rosebuds from the arrangement on the vanity and secured them in Juanita’s hair with hairpins.
“White flowers mean you are worthy of the one who gave them to you,” Maddie stated.
“Oh, yes. Miss Garrett gave me endless instructions about the language of flowers. She hopes a young man might send me a basket of pansies. It would mean I occupy— ”
“His thoughts, ” Maddie interjected.
“How did you know that?”
“I eavesdropped on your lessons with Miss Garrett. I wanted to learn more about this high society of yours.” She raised her eyebrows in obvious question. “You haven’t seen a calling card for some fancy, smancy dinner party or ball addressed to me, have you?”
Sorrow for her friend pierced Juanita’s soul. Like it or not, a person of Maddie’s station would never enter the beautiful homes she had. At least not through the front door. It was a shame, for the young woman was a beauty in her own right.
With clear skin and sparkling eyes, Maddie possessed hair, the color of golden toffee, that bounced to the center of her back when released from its severe bun. She stood six inches taller than Juanita and was considerably thinner, though Juanita’s figure had been as trim when she first arrived at the manor. The rich foods she partook of had added several pounds to her frame to Miss Garrett’s delight. “Darling, you fill out your dresses better now. You resembled a scarecrow when I met you.” Juanita did not take offense. She had learned to let Miss Garrett’s words of admonition sail by like leaves borne on the wind rather than incur bruised feelings whenever they were spoken.
“You could go to the Davenports’ in my stead,” Juanita baited her friend. “You would wear this gown better.”
“Wouldn’t Miss Garrett have a fit if she came and saw me all styled up and elegant instead of you?” Maddie pretended a shudder. “She sure lets a person know what’s on her mind. That bluntness must stem from her divorce and being single all these years.”
“But you are single and not brusque like Miss Garrett,” Juanita countered.
“It’s because I’m not as old as her yet. Give me a few more years, and I’ll be just as bossy,” Maddie prophesied with a wink.
Juanita gently grasped Maddie by the shoulders. “My dear friend, you are only twenty-two. Three years older than me. And the fact you have held your family together since the loss of your parents shows more character than any person I know. You truly are a diamond beyond compare. One day, a special man will ride up, sweep you off your feet, and the two of you will have a passel of children.”
“I don’t know what a passel is, but if it’s a bunch, I’m all for it. I’ve always loved kids. So, I hope you’re right about a man riding up and doing all that sweeping.” She picked up the atomizer from the dressing table and liberally sprayed Juanita’s hair and shoulders.
“That is enough,” Juanita said. “I prefer the rose-scented perfume Aunt Cassie and I make from the roses at La Casa de Flores. But Miss Garrett insists this perfume is the latest rage.”
Maddie clasped her hands under her chin and twirled in a circle. “The House of Flowers. It sounds divine.”
“The name is quite fitting. Aunt Cassie’s mother had planted the roses that now crowd the porch, but Mamita and I planted lavender, gardenias, peonies, and seasonal flowers around the entire house. It smells heavenly almost all year round.”
The redolence from the perfume made Juanita sneeze. “I can’t understand how Bostonian women tolerate this scent.”
“You’re the one I can’t understand. The world is lying at your feet, and you refuse to embrace it. To say nothing of all the young men vying for your attention.”
Juanita rested the back of a hand on her forehead and said in an exaggerated voice, “Those unfortunate blokes will have to settle for another woman of proper breeding.” She folded her hands on one cheek and batted her eyes. “The poor dears.”
She was about to continue her pantomime when the bedroom door swung open with such force, both she and Maddie jumped. A beautiful, silver-haired woman dressed in a lavender evening gown burst into the bedroom like a peacock fanning its tail. Her eyes took in the room and its occupants in one full sweep.
“Juanita, darling, Mrs. Thornapple told me I’d find you here.” Victoria Garrett’s musical voice caressed but still held its audience at bay. She brushed Maddie aside and bustled over to Juanita.
“Tut tut. Stand up straight, child,” she instructed. “Have I taught you nothing? If you act like a cowpoke at the Davenports’ this evening, all my efforts on your behalf will have been in vain. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to obtain this invitation?”
She snapped open her fan and flicked it back and forth. “And with Reginald Davenport gracing the dinner party this evening…” She said the man’s name with reverence. “He’s the dandy of all Boston. Handsome, athletic, well-bred, and his father drips with money.” She winked a lavender eye. “The perfect man for you, seeing you will possess a fortune when you marry. Your uncle invested Phillip’s money well.”
Her eyes took on a look of consternation. “I still find it hard to believe he and Ethan were half-brothers. Right from the beginning, Walter and Mary Helen should have admitted the boys shared the same mother and saved the ensuing trouble. But obviously, Ethan ended up with the longer end of the stick.”
Juanita lifted her chin, but only a touch. “Uncle Matt is not called Ethan now. Aunt Cassie asked him to keep the name he first gave her.”
She dropped her head in sorrow. “And I wish Phillip were alive and myself dirt poor than he be in heaven and I possess his wealth. Though I doubt he would want to come back from such a beautiful place,” she quickly added.
Victoria’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry about your half-brother’s death, but life must go on for those of us who are left. Now, walk across the room, and let me have a look at you.”
Juanita obeyed. She walked straight and tall with squared shoulders and her head held high just like Miss Garrett had taught her. With her back to her chaperone, she made a face at Maddie, who stifled a giggle behind her hands.
When she returned to Victoria’s side, the blonde cocked her head and fluffed a sleeve of the burgundy gown. “You’re aware this color is inappropriate for a young lady not yet introduced in society.” She muttered under her breath, “I must have another talk with Mrs. Brigham.”
With a critical eye, she walked around Juanita, studying her from every angle. “But under the circumstances, that Reginald Davenport will be joining us, this dress will allow you to stand out from the crowd.”
Juanita bit back the reply that the last thing she wanted was to stand out from anyone. All she wanted to do was take the next train back to Texas. Instead, she obediently said, “Whatever you think is best, Miss Garrett.”
Victoria pinched Juanita’s waist. “Have you gained another pound? As good as they are, you must stay away from Mrs. Farnsworth’s scones.” Maddie kicked the corset under the bed and stared innocently at the ceiling.
“And whatever is this gauche thing?” Victoria plucked the lace handkerchief out of the gown’s neckline. “Darling, if you want to impress Reginald, you must look the part. I mean, really look the part.” She dropped the handkerchief onto the vanity.
Victoria shoved Juanita’s reticule into her hands. “I’ve hired a carriage with a pair of matching white horses to carry us to the Davenports’. Walter’s horses would never do tonight.”
Juanita drew to her full height, which left her staring at Miss Garrett’s chin. “Even though Grand-uncle Walter’s horses are not as sleek as, say a Thoroughbred, they are still magnificent creatures.”
“I have succeeded with you in every area but that one. How many times must I tell you? A lady takes little interest in animals, especially horses. Those foul beasts are only useful to pull a conveyance and nothing else. And you’re right. Walter’s horses are not as sleek as the ones we’ll be using tonight.”
Victoria waved a dismissive hand. “And where is your fan? I spent an entire afternoon teaching you its subtle language.” She placed the handle of her fan near her mouth. “Do you remember what this 
means?”
Juanita’s cheeks rivaled the color of her dress. “I have not even met Reginald Davenport. Surely, I would not suggest he kiss me.”
“Not right away,” Miss Garrett agreed. “But when he does propose, don’t forget to show your acceptance like this.” She let the fan rest upon her right cheek. “I can’t wait to help you pick out your trousseau. Won’t that be marvelous?”
She called back over her shoulder as she floated out of the room. “We must be on our way. It’s never proper to arrive late for a dinner engagement but certainly not this evening.”
Maddie whispered to Juanita, “I’m glad it’s you going to the Davenports’ and not me. Good luck.”
Juanita grabbed the lace handkerchief off the vanity and stuffed it back into the neckline of her gown. “I will need it, my friend.” She picked up her satin evening cape and matching silk hat then dashed from the room, purposely leaving her fan behind.
***
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Juanita and the Outlaw, the second novel in the Texas Treasures series (Released December 2019 by Journey Fiction).
Read the first chapter of Cassandra and the Cowboy (Released Spring 2019), the first novel in the Texas Treasures series.
Read the first chapter of Maddie and the Ranger, (Released Spring 2021), the third novel in the Texas Treasures series.
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