Virgin Fire

by Elizabeth Chadwick

  Jessica was staring at her husband, aghast, having noticed for the first time the bruise and swelling on his chin. “Couldn't you have called in the authorities?” she asked.

  "Jessie, Muddy Willie Hoberkamp is a big man with a mean temper, and he's never been on a bicycle in his life. I figured if I let him ride in that race, which he'd have done before the sheriff could get there, you wouldn't have a bicycle to get back. First time he fell off, fifty feathered ladies from Deep Crockett would have laughed themselves silly, and he'd likely have kicked your bicycle to pieces. He did that to a horse once that threw him. Knocked the horse out cold."

  "Broke his own fist too,” said Walter Fondren. “Couldn't have happened to a more deserving fella."

  Travis took a seat beside Jessica and helped himself to meat and potatoes. “I realize you're here about your bicycle, Jess, but I must say I'm surprised to see you inside the house. How'd you manage that?"

  "Mr. Holland Reavis invited me to dinner,” she replied.

  "Oh well, that explains it. Holland could probably talk a Rockefeller into voting for James Hogg, the king of the Texas antitrust laws, which reminds me, I heard today that Guffey transferred that fifteen-acre J. M. Page lease to a syndicate the governor and Jim Swayne have formed. Swayne was Hogg's floor leader in the state senate when Hogg was governor,” he added for Jessica's benefit.

  "I know that,” she muttered.

  "What did he get for it?” asked Holland Reavis, whipping out a notebook.

  "Hundred and eighty thousand is what I heard,” Travis replied.

  "I'd have held out for more if it were my land,” said the Mississippi lawyer.

  "Guffey may have wanted some political favors as well,” Travis murmured. “Hogg still cuts a wide swath in this state."

  "Besides which that title is clouded,” said Jessica. “If I were a lawyer contesting it in a Texas court, I'd a lot rather do it for the governor than for some outlander."

  "I told you she was one smart woman,” Travis murmured to Holland Reavis. “You about ready to go, Jessica? I'll see you home, and don't bother to argue."

  She didn't.

  "I don't care what you say, Travis, I'm putting a well on this land. If you don't want to drill it for me, Mr. Fondren has offered."

  Travis sighed. “Honey, it's just that I don't want any oil-well fires fifteen feet from your back porch."

  "Then I'll have to see that the workers are careful, or I'll have to move."

  "Move, hu-uh?” Travis looked thoughtful. “Well, if you're set on it."

  "I am. If Mr. Beatty got a million two hundred and fifty thousand for his well, I really can't, in good conscience, forgo that kind of profit for Grandfather just to suit my own convenience."

  Travis nodded. “Then I'll drill it. At least that way I can be sure it's being done with every precaution."

  "Have you stopped smoking?” she demanded.

  "Why? Do you want to kiss me?"

  "I want you to drill my well without blowing me up,” she snapped, flushing.

  "No fear, love. I'm going to take good care of you. And I'll tell you another thing. Don't let a single tourist on your land. Those people are a bunch of damned fools, coming up here with women and children, smoking, turning on the valves so they can see a gusher. I heard there were fifteen thousand in town last Sunday. They seem to think this is some kind of sideshow."

  "I know,” Jessica agreed. “I thought I'd be jostled to death trying to get out of town from Mosso's last Sunday, and then the road was packed with men on horseback and families in every kind of vehicle. I saw women carrying babies and dragging toddlers out to see the hill.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “This town is dreadful enough during the week with all the mud, oil, and boomers."

  Travis laughed. “You think Beaumont's bad? You should try living out on the South Plains for a few years. Of all the ugly, flat—"

  "It's ugly and flat here,” Jessica interrupted.

  "Here we got a few trees. In fact, Beaumont used to be a pretty town with all the oaks and magnolias. Why, the Crosby had roses and banana plants and those little purple flowers—what are they?—violets. Then the boomers trampled all over the shrubbery to put up outdoor offices on the grounds. But even now we've got the river and the ocean not so far."

  Jessica shrugged. She couldn't see much to like about Beaumont. “The streets are quagmires,” she pointed out.

  "What's a quagmire or two?” Travis grinned. “Out on the South Plains you've got the wind blowing night and day year round, leaving grit between your teeth and a prairie fire at your back. You're living in a sod house with a chimney made of sticks and clay that's likely to catch fire and take you with it any day of the year."

  Jessica blanched at that picture, and Travis, looking smug, continued with relish, “If your cattle aren't stampeding, there's a plague of grasshoppers eating everything from your grass to your underwear on the wash line. There's drought in the summer and blizzards in the winter, tornadoes every spring blowing everything you own into the next county. God, I just purely hated that place."

  "It does sound awful,” Jessica had to admit, “but here, my goodness, our water isn't even drinkable."

  "But we've got oil,” said Travis. “No matter how bad things are, we've got the oil—and the excitement. Admit it, Jessie. You're having more fun than you've ever had in your life."

  "Well, maybe.” She had to laugh. “But it is wearing."

  "You just need to get out of town for a day. What do you say we go on an excursion of our own Sunday while all the visitors are making life miserable for anyone stupid enough to stay around?"

  "Where?” asked Jessica.

  "Oh—how about the ocean? It's only a couple of miles south down the river. You can smell the salt air when the wind's right."

  Jessica fought a losing battle with herself. Her Sunday-school class had been canceled because Mr. Mosso caught the boys sneaking drinks behind the bar, and she did want to go with Travis. “I might consider it, but if I were to agree, you'd have to forgo your Saturday night visit here.” She was interested to see what he'd decide, having always wondered whether it was herself or her bathtub that lured him to her house each week.

  "Why?” he asked sharply.

  Why? She could hardly tell him that she was testing him. “I'm beginning a new venture. I'll need the time to do my planning."

  "What venture?"

  "I've decided to go into the building business,” said Jessica enthusiastically. “There's an immense demand for housing and offices, and at the rate things are burning down, the demand can only increase. Since I already have the timber supply at my command, it should be easy."

  "You're right about the demand, but you know nothing about building, Jess, and getting workmen will be next to impossible. Every man who comes here wants the wages we pay in the oil field. You couldn't compete for labor."

  "If I hire Nigrahs, I can."

  "Now Jess, it takes a good man to get any work out of a Nigrah."

  "Well, you're wrong about that, and besides, Rainee's husband's a good man, and he knows a lot about building, not to mention the fact that he's smart and ambitious. I think I'm going to make a lot of money at this."

  Travis thought about her proposition, eyes narrowed. “Would that be Jedediah Beeker?” he asked.

  Jessica nodded.

  "Jed is a good worker,” Travis admitted, “but it's going to take a lot of money to get going. Still—well, if you need financing, I'll back you."

  Jessica's mouth dropped open. She had thought he'd oppose the idea; instead he was offering to help. Once again she was forced to admit that Travis really did have confidence in her. “I—I do thank you for that offer,” she stammered, “but I've already talked to Grandfather."

  "That's fine, Jess, if you want to do this as an employee, but it's your idea. I'll help you do it on your own."

  "So will Grandfather. He's lending me the money to get started. Also he said to use his name when
I run across men who don't want to deal with a woman."

  "You've already got a reputation for being dead reliable. I don't think you'll have too much trouble that way, and using Nigrahs, that just might put you ahead of the other builders who can't get people who'll stay on the job. Jed going to get the men for you?"

  "Well, actually I still have to talk him into it. I thought I'd offer him a cut of the profits."

  Travis leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

  "What was that for?” she asked, taken by surprise.

  "For being as smart as you are pretty. Now are we going down to Sabine Pass come Sunday?"

  Jessica lifted her face into the sharp salt breeze and savored the day. The sky was blue and sunny with cotton-boll clouds scudding across the horizon. Sometimes she thought she could see the flash of sunlight on water to the south, but the marshy plain across which they traveled was so flat that she couldn't be sure. Travis said, “Not yet,” each time she asked. They were following the Neches down to the gulf, driving a rented buggy since Jessica had refused to ride horseback and Travis insisted that bicycles would have been impossible.

  "Did you bring your bathing costume?” he asked.

  Jessica looked at him in astonishment. “I did not."

  "Well, why not? We're going to the ocean."

  "Have you ever seen a proper bathing dress? A woman could drown in one of those things—unless she stayed out of the water."

  "If no one's about, I suppose we can swim in the altogether,” he suggested, grinning. “Do you know how to swim?"

  "I do. Papa insisted that we all learn, but I have no intention of bathing without—without..."

  Travis laughed. “Even if I promise not to peek?"

  Jessica gave him a sour look which caused him to laugh harder and Jessica to change the subject quickly to the Heywood II well, which had come in just the day before. “It's bigger than anything I've ever seen,” she remarked with awe.

  "It's bigger than anything anyone's ever seen,” said Travis, “but it's not the most important thing that's happened lately."

  Jessica slanted him a questioning look.

  "In the long run I reckon the Kiser Kelly dry hole will be more important. Heywood II just proved what we already knew, that there's oil on the hill. Kiser Kelly proves what no one wanted to believe—that the whole area's not floating on oil the way the government geologists said. Land prices on the plain have been falling since that one, and I reckon they'll keep falling."

  "Oh, Lord,” muttered Jessica. “Penelope's going to blame me."

  "You warned her."

  "It won't make any difference. My mother never did function on logic, and she's stranger than ever.” Jessica shivered. “She even looks ... odd. Her eyes ... and her hair. She doesn't seem to be taking care of herself, and she was always so—so—"

  "Vain?” suggested Travis wryly. Again he remembered Justin Harte's warning that Penelope was dangerous. Well, let her be. Travis had plans for his wife, plans that would put her back under his protection. He'd buy her a house on Calder Avenue; he had already made the offer.

  As soon as she discovered what it was like to have an oil-drilling crew in her backyard—he planned to move them in the next week—and saw the house, she'd come back to him. Then she would be safe from Penelope, for he had no doubt that the woman would be wild with fury when she found that her dreams of great wealth had metamorphosed into heavy losses.

  Where had she got the money for that land? he wondered. Had Hugh collected it through his association with Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch, or was he raiding his own bank? Travis was glad he hadn't stayed in Fort Worth. He might have been tempted to get involved with Hugh's problems, see that the man got what was coming to him. But then maybe he wouldn't. He realized with surprise that he was free at last from that grinding desire for revenge. He'd never pass up the excitement of Spindletop or, more important, his chance to get Jessica back just to get even with Hugh and Penelope. He was free!

  "There it is,” cried Jessica excitedly. “It's the ocean!"

  "Haven't you ever seen it?” asked Travis.

  "Of course I have—the Atlantic, but I haven't seen the Gulf of Mexico, and I haven't seen any clean water in months, salt or fresh. I'd almost forgotten that it came without nasty smells and oil scum."

  "Poor Jessica.” Travis laughed and pulled the horses up. Within minutes they had removed their shoes and stockings, hiked up skirts and trousers, and waded into the gently lapping waves of the gulf, Jessica laughing with delight.

  "The water's warm,” she cried.

  "Of course, honey. It's June."

  "The ocean wasn't warm off the Maryland coast this time of year. Oh, it's glorious!” With one hand holding her straw hat in place, the other holding her skirt up almost to her knees, she splashed happily in the shallow waves.

  Travis smiled at this picture of the girl she must have been before her touchy family situation sobered and saddened her and before he himself forced her to grow up entirely. Then he stepped forward and caught her around the waist as she began to lose her balance. “You're going to end up soaked through and through,” he warned.

  Jessica sighed, her laughter fading. “It's not much fun to be a girl,” she said sadly. “If I weren't a girl, I could go swimming. I wouldn't have to wear a heavy wool monstrosity that would get wet and pull me under in two seconds flat."

  "Who says you have to?” Travis countered. “There's not a soul here but us."

  "I'm not going to take off all my clothes,” she retorted stubbornly.

  "Just strip down to your chemise and drawers,” he suggested. “You'll be covered up enough to preserve your modesty, although why you should care with me, I don't know."

  "You're not my husband anymore,” she said gloomily. “It wouldn't be proper."

  "Oh, Jess, what kind of nonsense is that? One week you're a shockingly modern woman, taking me to bed for the fun of it, and the next you're too modest to let me see you in your chemise. Does that make sense? Where's my hot-blooded little sensualist?"

  "That's all men care about,” she snapped defensively. “Pleasure. I read that men don't believe in romantic love at all—just sexual attraction."

  "Nonsense!” he said sharply.

  Jessica looked at him with surprise. Did he mean—

  "What this man cares about at the moment is having a swim on a warm day, and I'm going to.” He began to disrobe almost before he finished the sentence. “I'm going to swim straight out for about five minutes,” he said to her hastily presented back. “During that time I suggest you peel off a few layers and come in after me."

  "I can't put on my dress over wet undergarments,” she protested wistfully.

  "You'll dry out in no time. There's hardly a cloud in the sky. Now hurry up. Your five minutes start now."

  Jessica peeked over her shoulder to see his naked backside disappearing into the water, and then he was swimming straight out as he had promised. Unable to resist the invitation, she quickly took his advice and stripped to her chemise and drawers, following him into the water within minutes.

  When he had reached the first sandbar, Travis turned on his back and squinted at Jessica, now clad only in her sheer cotton undergarments, tentatively dipping a toe into the incoming tide. She seemed a young girl, slender and sweetly innocent, covered modestly in embroidered white drawers and chemise with ruffles around her fine-boned ankles and lacy straps over her delicate shoulders, but beneath the straps of the chemise, her breasts thrust out against the fabric, and beneath the narrow waist of her drawers, her hips swelled into a womanly curve.

  Already her hair, catching golden glints from the sun, was coming loose around her shoulders and down her back. She quickly pulled the pins from it and extracted the rats and switches that puffed it out, turning gracefully to toss the lot back to the small pile of their clothes on the sand. Then turning again toward the water, she raised her arms to braid the tawny flow of hair as he watched the lift and fall
of her breasts beneath her undergarment.

  How could he ever have thought her plain? he wondered. Just the sight of Jessica braiding her hair with the sea swirling around her ankles stirred his body with desire. Now she shaded her eyes against the sun-blind water to search for him. Travis swam back to rejoin her, and they frolicked happily in the waves for an hour or more.

  "All tired out?” he asked sympathetically when at last they dropped side by side at the water line, lying on their backs, gasping, propped on elbows to watch the tide coming in.

  Turning her head slightly to smile at him, Jessica nodded.

  "Good,” said Travis and rolled on top of her.

  "What do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

  "I'm going to have my evil way with you."

  "Here?” she asked, scandalized.

  "You're supposed to say, ‘Never, never, you cad,’ or something like that, not quibble about the site."

  Jessica giggled, then added, “Stop that!” as he fumbled with the tapes at her waist.

  He not only failed to stop; he managed to hold her upper body against the sand while, under water, he pulled the drawers from her lower body.

  "How am I supposed to get home in any kind of proper condition if my undergarment washes out to sea?” she demanded.

  In answer he tossed the drawers onto the sand and lowered himself between her thighs, which felt very pleasant to Jessica, even in their unprecedented position. “There,” he said, smilingly pleased with himself. “All taken care of. Now wrap those lovely, long legs around me."

  "No,” said Jessica.

  "Mulish woman,” he muttered.

  "I'm being taken against my will,” she replied haughtily.

  "Are you indeed?” Travis laughed and thrust into her, feeling great satisfaction as her involuntary response surrounded him. “The outside of you may think it's unwilling, but the inside doesn't,” he advised her and thrust again.

  "You're going to drown me,” she protested as the tide washed up further around them.

  "But you're going to enjoy it,” he promised. The next wave and his next thrust left them both sputtering and doubly excited. “I think we'd better move above the high-water line."