Virgin Fire

by Elizabeth Chadwick

  "I'm sure you will,” Jessica replied, snatching her wrist from her mother's grasp and hurrying off in search of Henry Barnett. Penelope no longer even pretended to any family feeling, so Jessica felt no obligation to stay longer, especially in her mother's house. “Henry,” she asked when she found him, “could you drop me at the station? I'm going straight back to Beaumont."

  "You have to remain in town for the reading of the will,” he reminded her.

  "Oh, everyone knows what it will say."

  "Nonetheless, you must be there. I too, although I can't imagine why; I've never handled business for Oliver Duplessis. Do you want to stay at my house, Jessica?"

  She accepted with gratitude and moved her few belongings out before her mother got back to town. On the third day after the funeral, the reading of the will sent a shock wave through the few Duplessis heirs. Hugh turned gray, but Penelope, who had been well medicated for the event and looking complacent, almost up to her old standards of beauty, went into a screaming rage because Jessica had been named the primary heir. Oliver had left her everything but a trust fund set aside for Penelope, the principal of which she could not touch. The trust was to be handled by Henry Barnett.

  "That's not my father's real will,” Penelope shrieked. “I know what it said. She substituted some forgery."

  "Mrs. Gresham, Mrs. Gresham,” soothed Oliver's attorney, “I assure you that this will is legitimate. Your father dictated it to me personally less than a month ago. The document was witnessed by several well-respected business associates of Mr. Duplessis's.” The man turned to Hugh for help as Penelope continued to scream abuse at the lawyer and at Jessica, to whose side Henry Barnett moved protectively. “Mr. Gresham, would you look at the signatures? These men are customers of your bank. You can assure Mrs. Gresham—"

  Hugh turned and walked out, his shoulders sagging. Penelope, shaking with rage, demanded that he return and “Do something! After what I did for you, you—"

  "Shut up!” he shouted at her. Penelope and all the others in the room stiffened with shock at his tone, which was heavy with loathing. “You've ruined me,” he muttered, and he left.

  "Why would he blame me?” she whimpered, tears making streaks in powder and rouge that Jessica hadn't realized her mother used. “Mr. Foley, you know I've always been a wonderful wife to Hugh.” Penelope swayed in the direction of her father's lawyer and grasped his lapel. “You must do something about this terrible will. You, of all people, know that my father never meant to cut me off.” She gave the embarrassed lawyer her sweetest tear-stained smile.

  "Mrs. Gresham,” Foley stammered, “your father didn't cut you off. He's provided you with a—a generous income."

  "Generous!” screamed Penelope, helpless tears abandoned. “A washerwoman couldn't live on that money, especially dispensed by Henry Barnett. Everyone knows he hates me. He's Justin Harte's toady. They'll all be laughing, Justin and his sluttish wife and their cheat of a daughter. They've conspired to see me in poverty."

  "You have a wealthy husband,” Foley pointed out. “How can you say—"

  "He's not as wealthy as Father was, and I was to be my father's heir. Everyone knew that. I'm the Duplessis heiress. My father never meant—why would he...” Penelope's eyes narrowed as they fell on Jessica, who sat in her straight-backed chair, frozen at the spectacle of her mother's mad harangue. “She did it! She must have poisoned his mind against me. She made him change his will. Get the police."

  "Mrs. Gresham,” cried Mr. Foley, shocked, “your daughter didn't influence Mr. Duplessis."

  "She's not my daughter. I disown her."

  "Nonetheless, Mrs. Parnell hasn't been in Fort Worth in months. One had only to look at her face to see that she was as surprised as you by this will, Mrs. Gresham. Truly, I think you do her an injustice.” He smiled ingratiatingly at Jessica.

  "Why didn't he name you to oversee my trust fund?” Penelope demanded. “Why name Henry Barnett? That was her doing. Hers and Justin's."

  "Your father worried that you might not handle your money prudently,” mumbled Foley.

  "What money?"

  "Any money,” snapped the lawyer, then tried to look conciliatory.

  Jessica suspected that he wanted to keep Hugh's business and feared to alienate Hugh's wife.

  "Your father felt that I, having known you from childhood, might be too—too soft-hearted to handle your interests as he directed."

  The lawyer looked so embarrassed that Jessica assumed her grandfather must have believed him too weak-kneed to stand up to Penelope. No doubt Grandfather Duplessis, who had never been one to mince words, had said as much to Mr. Foley.

  "You'll be sorry for this,” Penelope snarled at Jessica.

  Jessica closed her eyes and wished herself elsewhere. Then she felt Henry's firm hand on her shoulder. “If there's nothing else, Foley,” he said, “I shall see Mrs. Parnell out. She's had a grievous few days."

  "Yes, yes, of course. My condolences, Mrs. Parnell,” said Foley. “I'll be in touch with you concerning the provisions of the will."

  "Get in touch with Mr. Barnett,” Jessica advised, rising from her chair. “He will handle my interests."

  "Jessica,” snapped Penelope before Jessica could get out of the room. “I want to see a copy of your will. Be sure you've done what you were told to."

  Jessica glanced over her shoulder with somber disbelief. Penelope must be mad indeed if she still believed that Jessica would make a will in her favor.

  "You all right?” asked Rainee. Jessica had left Spindletop to attend the funeral before Rainee arrived for work, so they had neither seen nor spoken to each other in a week.

  "My grandfather died.” Jessica's eyes filled with tears.

  "Travis tell me.” Rainee held out her arms, a first-time invitation that caused Jessica to weep helplessly against the Comanche woman's shoulder.

  "He left me almost everything.” Jessica cried harder.

  "Much money bad medicine,” agreed Rainee gloomily. “Now evil spirit in mother's body make bad medicine against daughter."

  "There's nothing she can do,” Jessica pulled away and took out a handkerchief to wipe away the last of her tears. “How are the building projects going?” she asked, deciding that the best escape from grief would be her work.

  "No rain, house rise fast.” Rainee frowned disapprovingly. “You work too much. Need time to weep for old man."

  "I can't believe he's gone.” Jessica sighed. “I'd come to love him so much."

  "You got husband."

  Jessica swallowed hard. She wanted to see Travis. Just the thought of him eased her grief. Only he and Rainee understood how much her grandfather had meant to her, how much she would miss him, and how little his generous treatment of her in the will was going to make any difference in her loneliness. Maybe she would run into Travis when she went over to check out her building projects on the hill.

  Henry Barnett had thought she should move back to Fort Worth to handle Oliver's business interests, which centered there, but she just couldn't do it. She'd delegated responsibility to various of Oliver's lieutenants, even hired new managers, and then she'd come home, knowing that her attachment to Spindletop was an attachment to Travis. Soon she'd have to make up her mind about their marriage.

  As Rainee had told her, Jed Beeker was performing miracles now that the heavy rain had stopped. Three strangers caught her on the street to ask that she submit bids on their building projects. Another wanted to buy lumber for a derrick, which she sold him on behalf of Duplessis—no, on behalf of herself; she was Duplessis now. Jessica blinked back tears and climbed onto her bicycle to pedal past the Log Cabin Saloon toward another appointment. Infectious laughter stopped her before she could set out.

  "That's a bicycle, isn't it?"

  Jessica looked up to see a giggling girl astride a horse, ruffled taffeta skirts hiked up, orange hair frizzed out in every direction around a pretty face. Jessica was sure God never made any hair that color and assumed
that she had been accosted by one of the Deep Crockett girls. She'd heard they had taken to riding circuit and setting up assignations with hill workers. It was their way of meeting the competition from prostitutes who lived and worked on Spindletop.

  "What's your name?” asked the girl, looking ingenuously friendly.

  Jessica didn't know what to do. Society dictated that she and this person never speak to one another. “Jessica Parnell,” she mumbled. Penelope would say that her predicament was her own fault, the result of doing a job meant for men and frequenting places she had no business being. She glanced around surreptitiously to see if anyone was observing this encounter. She couldn't afford to have her reputation sullied, not when she had to do business with men every day. She wouldn't be safe on the streets were it thought that she consorted with women of ill repute.

  The girl squealed, “Parnell? Do you know Travis? He's one of my very best friends. I just love Travis."

  Jessica felt the color draining from her cheeks. Did that mean he ... paid this girl for ... for her favors?

  "Can I have a ride on your bicycle? I ain't never tried one.” She looked so eager that Jessica almost felt guilty at her own animosity, but this was a beautiful young woman, excepting her dreadful hair, and Travis evidently ... visited her.

  "Can I? Please?” the girl wheedled.

  "Lissie, what are you doin'?” Another young female of the same ilk pulled up beside the orange-haired girl and grasped the reins. “Come away before you get yourself arrested, you fool. She don't know no better, ma'am.” This remark was addressed to Jessica. “Don't make her no trouble; she din’ mean nuthin'."

  Jessica was left staring after them as the second girl forced the first to ride with her down the street. Penelope's allegations must have been true; he had patronized Fannie Porter's. All his talk about being happy at home had been lies, and here where they weren't even living together, he no doubt felt perfectly justified in pursuing his dirty pastime. How many more ways was he betraying her? The one thing they had, the one link between them that she had trusted, had been a lie. Jessica forgot her next appointment and went home.

  Rainee assumed her tears were for her grandfather and plied her with tea, cookies, and platitudes about the good life he had had.

  "With Penelope for a daughter?” Jessica asked sharply.

  "Old man had you too,” Rainee replied and poured more tea.

  Jessica heard the murmur of voices at the back door and assumed some country woman had come to sell Rainee eggs, but minutes later she found herself in Travis's arms. Briefly she relaxed against him and laid her tear-stained face on his shoulder. Then she remembered and pulled away.

  "You should have told me you were home, sweetheart,” he said reproachfully. “I've been worried every minute about you, and then I had to hear from someone else that you were back."

  "Who told you?” asked Jessica bitterly. “Your dear friend Lissie?"

  Travis looked confused.

  "The orange-haired girl riding the circuit on the hill. She assured me just this afternoon of what great friends you are and how much she loves you."

  Travis grinned. “Lissie loves everyone."

  "I'm sure, but she seems to feel that you're a special lover."

  "Lover? Why, Jess, sweetheart, are you jealous? That's sure good news. All you have to do is come live with me in town, and you'll never have to worry about—"

  "I don't intend to worry,” she interrupted, her anger growing with each humorous evasion. “I don't intend to put up with an unfaithful, lying, deceiving—"

  "Hold it,” Travis snapped. “I don't know what Lissie said to you, but I'm sure as hell not one of her customers, if that's what you're implying. I've been kind to the girl because I feel sorry for her; she's simpleminded. Maybe you were too busy thinking about yourself to notice anyone else's problems, but believe me, Jessica, your life looks like heaven compared to that poor child's."

  Jessica flushed. How dare he attack her? Did he really think her so stupid that she didn't know what the orange-haired girl had been talking about? Did he imagine she was naïve enough to believe that a man could befriend a prostitute without expecting favors in return?

  "Jess, I'm sorry you were upset when you'd just got back from Oliver's funeral,” he said in a gentler tone. “This is no time for us to be arguing."

  "Why not?” she snapped. “Oh, of course. You heard about the will and don't want to miss out on anything. I guess I'll be the target of every unprincipled scoundrel in the country, with you first in line."

  Travis's face flushed with anger. “Maybe you'd like to explain that remark."

  "Don't play the innocent with me, Travis. Penelope accused me of influencing him in some underhanded way, but if anyone did that, it would have been you."

  "So he made you his heir,” Travis mused. “Good. I hoped he would."

  "I'm sure you did.” Jessica felt almost sick with anger and betrayal. “Not only have you managed to destroy my mother—and Hugh as well, if his reaction was any indication—” Travis actually had the audacity to smile; he wasn't even trying to hide his triumph “—but I suppose you planned to get the money for yourself through me. Well, you won't, Travis. You—"

  "You know damned well I don't want or need your money,” he broke in. “I've made more out of this oil field than you and Oliver put together, and I don't need a penny from any Harte, Gresham, or Duplessis."

  Jessica had never seen him so angry and backed away instinctively.

  "I've made my own way. Nobody gave me a thing, and if I'm pleased to see ill luck befall people who did me ill, that's my own damned business. I wanted you to have Oliver's money because you deserved it, but I didn't do anything to bring it about. Hell, I'd have sworn the man would live another twenty or thirty years."

  For a moment Jessica was struck with the truth of what Travis said. She too could hardly believe her grandfather had died. On the other hand, she wouldn't allow herself to be taken in again. After that encounter with Travis's simpleminded little harlot—if she was simpleminded; the whole scene might have been a piece of trouble-making on the girl's part, an impulse designed to hurt Jessica, which it had. “I'm so glad you don't want anything from anyone in my family, Travis,” said Jessica furiously, “because you're not going to get anything. Now, please leave my house."

  Travis gave her a hard look, swung on his heel, and left, slamming the door behind him. Jessica caught at the back of a chair as a wave of sick vertigo swept over her.

  "Woman who tame stallion, then drive him away with tongue like whip spend life on foot,” said Rainee from the doorway, her dark face severe and expressionless.

  Jessica tried to look unconcerned. “I guess now he'll have to find somewhere else to have a bath,” she replied with wobbly sarcasm.

  "Travis lodge have metal pond. He come here for you, not bath."

  "Well, I have been a fool then,” said Jessica, giving up her pretense of indifference. “Everything he ever told me was a lie, and I believed it all at one time or another."

  A week later Travis heard that Hugh Gresham had been arrested for handling nonnegotiable currency stolen from a Great Northern train in Wagoner, Montana. The train robbers had left town; their banker hadn't been so foresighted. Fort Worth was rife with rumors that accounts at Cattleman's Bank had been emptied. An investigation was in progress. Somehow, Travis didn't get as much pleasure from the news as he had expected.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  To combat the depression that threatened to overwhelm her, Jessica began to lease out small parcels of land surrounding her house. Night and day the derricks went up, and the drills ate into the earth, the noise so constant that it blanked her mind. Rainee grumbled. Jessica had to leave home to make business decisions, and she had many to make now that she was Duplessis Company. Wires and telephone calls from Fort Worth followed her as she pursued her Beaumont enterprises. Travis thought he was so successful—more successful than either she or Oliver. She'd show
him.

  Then one day in August she came home to find a furious housekeeper awaiting her return. Penelope was back. How did she have the nerve to show up after the things she had said at the reading of the will? Jessica hadn't expected to see her mother again—ever; she hadn't wanted to.

  "Great Cannibal Owl as welcome to Rainee as skunk in tepee,” fumed the Comanche woman. “I should tell her, ‘Open mouth again, I scalp.’”

  Jessica, who had been growing anxious at the thought of having to face her mother, started to grin.

  "Why smile?” demanded Rainee. “You think Rainee not know how to take scalp? I more Comanche than black. I tell her that.” Rainee's mouth twisted in a macabre smile that sent a shiver up Jessica's spine. “Comanche woman not usually count coup; maybe I start on her."

  Jessica didn't know what count coup meant, but it didn't sound good; she decided that her housekeeper might not be joking and she'd best get Penelope out of the house as fast as possible. With that in mind, she hurried into the sitting room.

  "That woman threatened me, that smart-mouthed Nigrah of yours. I'm going to the sheriff as soon as I—"

  "Comanche,” said Jessica.

  "What?” Penelope paled.

  "Her name is Rain Woman; she's Comanche, and I wouldn't go complaining to Ras Landry, who's a friend of ours. Rainee might take offense. Besides, who'd believe you anyway? You smell of spirits."

  "Don't you talk to me that way."

  "Why have you come here, Penelope?"

  "I'm your mother; that's why. And you've treated me shamefully. Now that Hugh has been arrested—"

  "What's that?"

  "Oh, don't act as if you didn't know. You probably arranged it."

  "What was he arrested for?"

  Penelope looked at Jessica sharply, then shrugged. “What does it matter? It's very embarrassing, and of course I've left him, or I would have if he hadn't been taken away, but now there's the problem of money. It wouldn't have been a problem—"

  "What happened to Hugh's money?” Even without Oliver's estate, they had always had all the money anyone could want. What could Hugh have done?