"For one thing, I find it pleasant to get paid.” Jessica noticed her grandfather looking at her sharply and wondered if he was shocked to hear such an unladylike sentiment.
"Women are supposed to spend money, not earn it,” said Penelope disdainfully.
"Nonsense,” said Oliver. “A desire to earn money is a healthy attitude.” He turned his heavily jowled face with its shining dome in Jessica's direction and said, over Penelope's sputtering, “Good for you, girl."
"Thank you, Grandfather,” Jessica replied, pleased to have attracted favorable notice from the old man, who had pretty much ignored her at previous dinners.
"My congratulations, Jessica,” Hugh added. “I haven't read your work, or even noticed it, I must admit, but I shall certainly look for it in the future. I too admire a woman who understands the value of money.” He slanted his wife a resentful look.
Jessica was doubly astonished. It was the first complimentary thing Hugh had ever said to her.
"Come over and visit me, if you've a mind to, girl,” said Oliver.
"I will,” said Jessica, thinking that she'd love to visit someone other than her mother's gossiping friends.
"She won't have time, Father,” snapped Penelope. “She has to help me with my yearly holiday preparations."
"I hope you're not planning a lot of expensive entertainments, Penelope,” said Hugh anxiously.
"We shall have certain affairs, just as we always have, Hugh, and I'm tired of hearing about money. If you need money, why don't you talk to Father about putting his in your bank?"
"I don't bank with relatives,” said Oliver in a voice that brooked no argument. “And it strikes me, Penelope, that you have little understanding of your husband's business after all these years. Even if I did put my money in Cattleman's National, it would not be there for Hugh to spend on any whims of yours,” he added dryly.
Travis watched with sharp interest as Hugh turned white. For the second time he wondered if the man could be appropriating the funds of bank depositors. He was tempted to pass the thought on to Hartwig.
"You are so irritating, Father,” said Penelope. “Well, if you won't bank with Hugh, Travis certainly should."
Travis smiled blandly. “Why, Penelope, I'm like your father. I don't bank with relatives, especially relatives with free-spending wives.” He laughed jovially and clapped his father-in-law on the shoulder, noting as he did so that Hugh did not look amused.
"Since we're speaking of money, a subject my daughter doesn't much care for unless she's discussing how she intends to spend some, I have a question for you, Parnell,” said Oliver. “A Captain Anthony Lucas came by to see me, offering to buy some land I own around Beaumont."
"Where around Beaumont?” asked Travis.
"Section called Spindletop Heights. Not much profit in it so far. I picked it up in a trade. Then there's some other parcels spread around that general area, swampy I'm told."
Travis was thinking hard as the old man talked. What he knew about oil activities in Beaumont he had intended to keep to himself. He certainly didn't want to get Hugh interested in anything that might prove immensely profitable. On the other hand, he wouldn't mind cultivating Oliver Duplessis. Jessica's grandfather could do a lot for her, and anything Oliver Duplessis did for Jessica might accrue to Penelope's disadvantage and could hardly be held against Travis—at least by Jessica. He could tell by the wistful look on her face when Duplessis came to dinner that she'd like her grandfather's approval.
"I put him off,” Oliver was saying. “Asked around about him. Word is he's in oil, which is why I'm asking you. Oil—that's your business, isn't it?"
"I wouldn't sell,” said Travis, not with any urgency. He didn't want to alert Hugh. “Let me make some inquiries, then give you a more informed opinion."
Oliver looked at him with wise, ancient eyes under shaggy brows and nodded. “Don't be too long about it."
"I won't,” Travis assured him. In fact, he would go to see the old man the next day. Oliver Duplessis would understand that land investments of the sort they both had in Beaumont would be worth more if their potential were kept quiet.
The dinner dragged to an unpleasant close because Penelope had been bored by a topic that didn't concern her. She said to her husband over dessert, “I've decided, Hugh, that if you won't get yourself a toupee, I'll give you one for your birthday."
Hugh scowled at her, Oliver Duplessis called for his carriage, and Travis whisked Jessica upstairs before her mother could detain them.
"When is your birthday, Travis?” Jessica asked as she began to remove an earring. “You've never told me, although I remember asking several times.” She gave him a sparkling smile and added, “If you'll share the date, I promise not to buy you a toupee."
Travis didn't want his birthday remembered. He tried to forget it himself because it was the day his father had died.
"Please,” Jessica wheedled.
"November,” he muttered.
"November!” she cried unhappily. “You let it go by without telling me."
"I never celebrate it. Now, what Christmas festivities are these Penelope needs your help with?” he asked.
"I have no idea,” said Jessica moodily, “but you can be sure they won't be much fun, nothing like we had at home in Weatherford,” she added wistfully. “Travis, I can't believe you wouldn't tell me—"
"Don't worry about it, Jess!” Then he moderated his tone. “What was Christmas like in Weatherford?"
"Oh, we used to have a huge, lovely tree with candles, and we always hung our stockings and found them full of oranges and almonds and a gold piece in the toe on Christmas morning.” She sat down at her dressing table and began to brush her loosened hair, smiling reminiscently.
"One holiday out on the Rocking T my mother's foreman, Last Cauley, even played Santa Claus. We were so excited. We never guessed it was he until his stomach pillow fell out onto the hearth. Frannie started to cry because Santa's tummy had caught fire, and the cowboys poured the Christmas whiskey punch on it and nearly burned the house down, while we children all giggled like crazy and Mama rushed us out into the yard. The whole family had to sleep in the bunkhouse with the hands while the house aired out, and I sneezed all night and kept everyone awake, and..."
Jessica had been laughing over her memories until she noticed that her husband was scowling. Then she realized how insensitive she had been. Poor Travis had no wonderful family Christmases to remember and no birthday celebrations. Repentantly, she rose and threw her arms around his neck. “We'll have a lovely Christmas, Travis,” she cried, “in spite of Penelope."
She couldn't have said anything to make him feel worse. He hadn't been thinking about what he'd missed; he had been thinking about what she would miss because he had dragged her away from her family, whom she evidently yearned for more than he had realized. His desire to avenge his father's death was proving to be Jessica's misery.
In the spirit of irritation caused by his guilty conscience, he muttered, “I wouldn't have thought you'd be so nostalgic. Weren't they always shipping you off to school instead of including you in the family circle?"
Jessica looked taken aback and said, “I didn't realize I'd made them seem unkind. Actually, they were very good to me.” She turned away, frowning thoughtfully, and added, “I'm even beginning to understand the way my father treated me. He was probably afraid I'd turn into a spendthrift like Penelope."
Travis too turned away. How long before she started to resent him for separating her from the people she loved? he wondered uneasily. Then he thought about his father's death, of which Jessica had inadvertently reminded him. God, how he wanted to have revenge. He wanted to see Hugh and Penelope as miserable as Pa had been, as frightened and hungry and alone as Travis had been. But he didn't want to hurt Jess, and, God help him, he was being torn apart by the irreconcilable demands of the past and the present.
Chapter Thirteen
Jessica stood before the cabinet in which th
e medicine was kept. Penelope's behavior had become more erratic and spiteful as she resorted to larger doses of her elixirs, one a patent medicine, the other a concoction mixed up by the family doctor. Jessica's well-meant suggestion that the potions might be doing Penelope harm, that perhaps she should give them up or at least change doctors, had resulted in a stream of abuse and accusations, the last of which was that Jessica wanted to destroy her mother's health because she coveted Hugh, having lost the interest of her own husband.
On that note, Penelope had swept from the room, leaving Jessica to wonder what could be in the bottles. Tentatively she stretched a hand to the one whose elaborate label announced that it contained Huffhouser's Bitters, a specific for digestive upsets, liver complaints, female trouble, and a host of other ailments. Jessica took off the top and sniffed. She recognized the odor, having smelled it on Travis when he came home late.
She quickly closed that bottle and reached for the other, the one the doctor provided. It too was a liquid but with no odor that Jessica could identify. Penelope had said it soothed her nerves. After that ugly scene with her mother, Jessica's nerves were certainly in need of soothing. Perhaps she should find out why Penelope took it. For a change, no social events had been scheduled, so if the potion made her sick, she could go to bed.
With a trembling hand, Jessica poured a little out and drank it down in one nervous gulp, then hurriedly recapped and replaced the bottle before going to her room to await the results. She sat down at her desk to look at an article on Christmas customs, which she had researched by questioning Penelope's friends about their childhood memories. Surprisingly, women she had never cared for became warm and nostalgic on the subject, their husbands chimed in with reminiscences, and Penelope finally put a stop to the interviews, complaining that Jessica was monopolizing conversation.
Jessica leaned her head on her hand. Silly Penelope, always wanting to be the center of attention. It was really a bit pathetic. Jessica wasn't sure now why she had been so upset about her mother's little gibes. Foolish, spendthrift Penelope. No wonder Justin had divorced her. Maybe Hugh should too. Maybe Jessica should suggest that at dinner tonight. Maybe she should tell everyone at the table about the night she had seen her mother rolling a string of little balls from her neck to her lower lip. Jessica giggled. Penelope had looked so foolish, trying to roll away her incipient double chin.
Grandfather Duplessis had big rolls of fat under his chin. He even had rolls on his forehead. Maybe he'd like some little balls on a string for his forehead. Maybe Penelope was afraid she was going to look like her father, who had no hair. The idea of a bald Penelope struck Jessica as hilarious. In the bathtub room Travis had found a shampoo for bald ladies. Maybe that shampoo was all that stood between Penelope and the need for a toupee of her own. Still giggling, Jessica rose with the idea of going to pour out the shampoo for bald people. She wanted to see her mother without any—without any—whoops! Jessica grabbed the back of the desk chair. Goodness gracious, maybe a little nap was in order.
"Where can I hide this, Penelope?” Travis asked as he came into the house on a gust of cold wind. He carried a large Remington typewriter elaborately wrapped.
"Put it in there.” She waved toward the hat rack, which had a wide seat hinged for storage below. “And now I have the most interesting surprise for you."
"Oh.” Travis didn't want any surprises from Penelope. “Where's Jessica?"
"Upstairs, I presume. Betty, go tell Miss Jessica to get herself down here. I won't tolerate tardiness, especially when we have an unexpected guest.” Penelope turned back to Travis. “Your guardian is here, Travis."
"He is?” Travis shifted uneasily. “Joe Ray?” What the hell was Joe Ray Brock doing here? Dear Lord, he had to get to his foster father before the man said anything irretrievably damaging in front of the Greshams or, worse, Jessica. Travis had written to Joe Ray to announce the marriage, but he hadn't mentioned his bride's name. Since Joe Ray had been a good friend of Will Parnell's, he'd be furious to find Travis married to the daughter of his father's worst enemies.
"We've been having quite a chat,” said Penelope.
That sounded ominous. “Well, where is he?” Travis asked. “I've all sorts of business to talk over with him, so I'm sure you'll excuse us if we get right to it."
"Your business will have to wait, Travis. I've invited Mr. Brock to dinner, and we're about to sit down."
"Miz Gresham, I cain't hardly wake Miz Jessica up atall,” said Betty, the maid.
"Nonsense,” snapped Penelope. “Mr. Travis's foster father is here, and I expect—"
"Let her sleep, Betty,” Travis interrupted. Why would Jess be sleeping at this time of day? Well, no matter. He wasn't going to argue with this one small piece of luck. “She's probably coming down with a cold."
Then a second idea occurred to him. Could she be with child? Travis felt a stab of joy at the thought of Jessica carrying his child. His baby and Jessica's. They'd give it so much love—more than either of them had had as children.
"She'll have to put it off,” snapped Penelope.
"What?” asked Travis, confused.
"The cold. Get her dressed and down here immediately, Betty. Come along, Travis."
"Red ants in vinegar,” Joe Ray was saying as they entered the drawing room. “I was just tellin’ your husband here, Miz Gresham, that there's nothin’ for rheumatism like red ants an’ vinegar.” Joe Ray rose from the delicate sofa, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him, and made an old-fashioned bow to Penelope. “Travis, boy, imagine my surprise to find you livin’ here at the Greshams'.” He gave Travis a narrow look. “Had to do a lot of askin’ to find out where you was."
Evidently Joe Ray had yet to mention Will Parnell, for the couple looked superciliously amused rather than upset. Travis shook Joe Ray's hand and said, “Reckon we got a lot to talk about, Joe Ray. I know you'll excuse us, Penelope, if we skip—"
"I won't. Pleasure before business.” She laughed that trilling laugh he hated.
Did she sense that he was desperate to get Joe Ray out of the house? He'd have sworn she wouldn't ordinarily allow Joe Ray Brock through the front door. If the evening ahead weren't so potentially disastrous, Travis would have laughed aloud. Joe Ray looked dusty and unkempt and smelled strongly of cattle; he was going to make an unlikely dinner guest among the expensive china and fine linens.
"Mr. Brock,” said Penelope, extending slender fingers in his direction, “you may escort me in to dinner."
Travis noticed that those fingers hovered above Joe Ray's arm rather than resting on it. Joe Ray continued to talk after they were seated. They had embarked on the main course before Jessica made an appearance, looking dazed and slightly mussed. Was she pregnant? Travis wondered with another stab of pleased anticipation.
"Have to tie strings around your pants to keep ‘em from crawlin’ up your legs,” Joe Ray was saying, for he had been telling grasshopper stories. “Why, I recall a horse race we had to cancel ‘cause them Rocky Mountain locusts was so thick on the course, the horses couldn't wade through, much less run. Same year they et a woman's washin’ right off the line."
"This is my daughter, Jessica,” Penelope interrupted, “who seems to think she has no obligation to arrive at the dinner table at an appropriate hour. Jessica, Mr. Joe Ray Brock, your husband's foster father. You owe him an apology."
"Had any experience of grasshoppers, young lady?” Joe Ray asked by way of greeting.
Jessica dropped into her chair and rumbled for her napkin. “They ate the tops of my mother's onions once,” she recalled. “And then they kept eating right down into the ground and finished off the bulbs too."
"Do tell?” Joe Ray guffawed. “Ain't heard that one.” Then he studied Penelope. “I wouldn't a thought you'd be an onion grower, ma'am."
"I guess I meant my stepmother,” Jessica added, looking confused.
"'Pears you got lotsa relatives, young lady—mothers, stepmothers, foster fathers-in-law, lik
e me. On the other hand, you ain't got no mother or father-in-law, bein’ as Travis here—"
"No use to bring up old sorrows, Joe Ray,” Travis interrupted, giving the rancher a sharp look and hoping that Joe Ray would catch on and cooperate.
"Now, you'd think,” resumed Joe Ray, “what with all the grasshopper plagues and droughts we done had out there, them farmers woulda give up, but you'll be interested, Travis, to know they're still tryin’ to buy an’ farm land that God meant for cattle."
"Well, you got it cheap in ‘87 when the state declared it grazing land. Now you can sell it dear to folks dumb enough to want to use it for something else,” Travis replied. “You always were a hand for making money on land deals."
"Ain't that the truth,” crowed Joe Ray. “Why, I had me a lotta land right here in Fort Worth,” he explained to Hugh. “Bought it back in 1870 for three dollars an acre."
Hugh's eyes lit up at the thought of the profit that purchase could have entailed.
"Yep, three dollars an acre, an’ I sold it for a thousand an acre in ‘87 an’ bought cheap in Lubbock an’ Crosby. Now, like the boy says, I could make me another killin’ sellin’ it off to them fool farmers if I'd a mind to."
"My goodness, Mr. Brock,” said Penelope, giving him a demure, fluttering smile, “you'll need to talk to my husband about investments, won't you?"
"Cattleman's would, of course, be delighted to be of service, Mr. Brock,” said Hugh solemnly.
"Would they now? Well, I'll just have to give that some thought. You puttin’ your money in with Mr. Gresham, Travis boy?"
"I bank in Corsicana where my business is, Joe Ray,” said Travis.
"But you're livin’ right in this here house with Mr. an’ Miz Gresham. Must be quite a treat for you, son."
"We certainly do our best to make our young couple feel at home,” said Penelope sweetly.
Travis spotted his wife giving her mother a comically astonished look. What was the matter with the girl? This was a touchy enough evening; he certainly didn't need Jessica renewing her feud with Penelope. At least, Penelope seemed to be on her best behavior.
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