A Season of Dreams

by Gilbert, Morris

  A cheer rent the air and Dent DeForge could stand it no more. “Yippee!” he yelled. “The cavalry has come to save us from the vicious outlaws!” He suddenly reached out, picked up Violet, and spun her around wildly. “How do you like that, Sweetheart?” he asked. “I reckon the Lord has heard!”

  Maury felt faint. She found that the suddenness of it all had taken her off guard. She was aware that Ted had come to stand beside her, and he leaned over and whispered, “Maury, I never believed in God much and surely not in miracles—but I’d certainly like to know more about it.”

  “All right, Ted, we’ll talk about it.” Her eyes were like stars as she reached out and took his hand.

  Horace Kingman was a rough and violent man—but not stupid. When he saw the attractive young woman dressed in the cheap dress take the hand of his son, his eyes narrowed. He studied them carefully, then his eyes swept over the movie cameras that were rolling and the still photographs that were being made. He turned, saying not a word, and left.

  Lylah called out after him, “We’ll be seeing you, Mr. Kingman. Be sure you get your lawyers here as quick as you can. We’re looking forward to a big, noisy, wild, and vulgar court battle . . .” Laughter went up from the Stuart group, and even a few hidden smiles from the Kingman faction.

  Kingman walked away, accompanied by Ollie. “Well, what do you want to do now?” Bean asked.

  Kingman turned to face him. “You see what this means?”

  “Well, there’s just a few of them.”

  “A few of them! We’ll be on the front page of every one of Hearst’s newspapers, not to mention on the screens of half the theaters in America! People are always looking for someone to hate—now the Stuarts found someone—and that’s me.”

  Bean swallowed.

  “Do nothing! Don’t you do a thing,” replied Kingman. He stared back at the crowd that was milling around, at people shouting and hugging, and he felt a strange sense of loneliness when he saw his son standing tall beside the young woman. “That’s a dry hole they’re on. Let them go bust. It’ll all be for nothing.”

  Ollie Bean had never seen his boss like this. Always before, Kingman had been in control—and had all the answers. Now he watched the man’s face and thought to himself, Horace is getting old—I hadn’t noticed that.

  IT’S NEVER TOO LATE

  None of the Stuarts ever forgot the two weeks following the arrival of the clan. For one thing, the newcomers brought supplies of all kinds, including enough groceries to feed a regiment for a year! The very first night that they arrived, the air was thick with the delicious odor of steaks sizzling in skillets, potatoes frying in deep grease, fried pies, and fresh coffee. The trailers served as a base, but Pete’s homestead was constantly filled with the sound of laughter and music. Lylah had brought a radio, and the sounds of popular songs of the day lay always either under or above the chatter and talk. These included songs such as, “I Found a Million Dollar Baby in a Five and Ten Cent Store,” “Have You Ever Been Lonely?” “Love Letters in the Sand,” and a new song from a Broadway success, Of Thee I Sing. It was called “A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.”

  Ray and Winona found themselves spending more and more time together. He said once to her, “Winona, you laugh a lot. I thought when I first met you that you were pretty stuffy.”

  Her brown eyes sparkled as she said, “I didn’t think you were the greatest thing either, but I’ll always remember you getting knocked down trying to protect me in that restaurant.”

  Ray grinned and rubbed his chin ruefully. “Maybe I’d better take boxing lessons from Jack Sharkey.”

  One of the best things that happened—at least in Lylah’s mind—was Adam’s introduction to what rough living was really like. It was true that there was plenty to eat now, but the outdoor bathroom and the other signs of hard living had come as a shock to the fourteen-year-old. He had been accustomed to comfort and ease all of his life, and now he saw how other people lived. Two days after they arrived in Oklahoma, Adam pulled Gavin aside and asked him to go for a walk. Gavin had known instantly that this was no walk for exercise. As soon as they were out of hearing from those in the house, Adam looked up at him and said, “Uncle Gavin, Mom said you knew my father.”

  “That’s right, I did. Not very well, but I did meet him.”

  “Did you like him?”

  Gavin thought back to those days when he had flown in France in the Layfayette Escadrille—the stark encounters with death high over a checkerboard earth, the sound of bullets piercing the thin fabric of his wooden Sopwith Camel, the smell of burning oil thrown in his face. “Well,” he said slowly, “it was a hard time for everybody. Let me tell you about the war.”

  The two walked for a long time. Gavin spoke quietly about what it was like to wake up every day not knowing if it would be your last day alive. Finally he said, “It was the same for the German fliers. We were on different sides, but I felt real close to them.”

  “Didn’t you hate them?”

  “I tried not to,” Gavin said. “I don’t think they wanted to be there anymore than we did. Sometimes countries do things and people have to go to war whether it’s right or wrong.”

  “My father—he was the best flyer the Germans had?”

  “The very best! He had a brother named Lothar who was very good also, but Manfred was the best. Not just alone in a plane, but he became a great leader. The men trusted him. They painted their planes all kinds of crazy colors and they were named the Flying Circus—Manfred von Richthofen’s Flying Circus,” he mused. “We hated to hear that they were coming because they were fine pilots—all of them.”

  “Did you meet him, though?”

  “I met him once. I was shot down over enemy territory and captured. It would have gone very badly for me, but your father looked me up. I’m afraid I treated him pretty shabbily. I was angry at the war and I wasn’t sympathetic for the love he and your mother had for each other. But it didn’t matter, he did his best for me.” Gavin looked down and smiled, putting his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “He was a fine man, Adam. I wish he could’ve lived. I know he would have been proud of a son like you.” Adam said nothing for a long time, and the two resumed their walk.

  Later that day, Gavin pulled Lylah aside. “Well, I think it’s going to be all right with Adam. We had a long talk—about Manfred.” He told her the nature of the talk and saw that her face showed great relief. “I think you can relax now,” he said. “He’s going to be a fine man—just like his father.”

  Owen had not been joking about the revival. He was well known enough that all he had to do was announce a meeting, and people would flock from everywhere. The little town closest to Pete’s place had no building for a large meeting, but somehow Owen managed to get a tent—a huge one. Every night, from all over that section of Oklahoma the crowds came in. The roughnecks came in their dirty drilling clothes, and the families from the town came to fill the tent.

  Violet was surprised when Dent came to her on the first night of the meeting, saying, “Get your Sunday best on, Vi. We want to get down on the amen row. I want to hear some good preaching.”

  “All right, Dent,” she said. “I don’t have much to wear, though.” She asked to borrow one of Lylah’s dresses, a white one trimmed in blue, and when she came to meet Dent, his eyes were wide open.

  “I’ll be dipped, Violet! Why, you’re prettier than a pair of red shoes with green strings!” he exclaimed. “Come on, let’s go down and let folks see what a good-looking couple looks like!”

  Ted Kingman went along also, accompanied by Maury. He’d spent considerable time with her, but as they entered the tent, he said nervously, “I–I don’t know about this, Maury. I’ve only been to church a couple of times in my life—and it was never like this.”

  Maury laughed and squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry, it’s going to get worse.”

  He looked at her with a wild surmise but saw that she was teasing him. He took his seat and she handed him one
of the worn, paperback songbooks, entitled Heavenly Highways, and said, “There, let’s hear you sing out.”

  They sang for what seemed like a long time. Ted didn’t know any of the songs, but he enjoyed Maury’s clear soprano and stole glances at her from time to time. She was wearing a dark green dress that set off her red hair in a spectacular fashion. He had caught the admiring glances from many of the men as he escorted her in and wondered, again, if she would ever trust him enough to marry him.

  The sermon was on the subject of repentance. “Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish,” was the text.

  Somehow, Ted expected that Owen Stuart would rake the congregation with allegations of immorality, and would cut them down for smoking, drinking, and going to the movies; however, it was not so.

  “Repentance,” Owen said, “is not making a list of things you think God hates and then doing your best to stay away from them. That’s what the Ten Commandments are—a list of things that reveal a perfect individual. And nobody has ever kept the Ten Commandments—except Jesus Christ of Nazareth.”

  He paused and looked out over the rough congregation. “Why do we have them, you ask? Why did God give the Ten Commandments if we couldn’t keep them? Very simple—to show us that we need him. Have any of you fellas ever laid bricks, or blocks, or stone?” He paused and quite a few hands went up. “You know what a line level is then. You put that line up and lay the bricks to it. But ask yourself this—if a wall was crooked, would putting a line up there make it straight? No! The commandments are like that. They show us where we’re crooked, and Jesus came to show us a better way. Instead of having a list of things we’re not supposed to do and gritting our teeth and plowing at it, Jesus said, ‘I have come to be in you and when I am in you, you will know God. For I am in the Father, and the Father is in me. I will be in you and you will be in me.’”

  The sermon was not long, and at the end Owen said warmly, “The question is simply this—what do you want the most? What you have—or God? To all of you who do not have God, I know what it’s like and I know you’re not happy. No one can be happy away from Jesus Christ, for he’s the most important of all things. Tonight, if you will come and ask God for his mercy, he will delight to make you his own, and to become yours.” He spoke earnestly, explaining that it is necessary to call on God and to turn from sin and to believe in faith that Jesus rose from the dead. Then he said, “As we sing, will you come?”

  Ted found his hands trembling slightly as the congregation began to sing:

  Just as I am,

  Without one plea

  But that Thy blood

  Was shed for me . . .

  He had little idea of what all this meant, but something in him recognized the truth of what he’d heard. He felt Maury’s hand touch his, and when he looked at her, he saw tears in her eyes. “Do you feel the need for the Lord, Ted?” she said quietly.

  Suddenly, his throat grew thick and he nodded silently. He could not speak for a time, then he managed to say, “I’ve never felt like this! What is it?”

  “It’s called ‘conviction.’ It just means that Jesus wants you to be his own.”

  “But I don’t know how!”

  “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Do you want to know the peace of God? It will be a different kind of life.” Her lips trembled. “But it’s wonderful to know Jesus.”

  There was a moment of intense struggle for Ted Kingman. He understood so little of what he’d heard, but he’d never been shaken as he was at this moment. He did not for one instant doubt the sincerity of Owen Stuart, but it was the words of the Scripture that kept hammering at him, over and over again. Owen had said, “Ye must be born again,” and had quoted many places in the Bible to illustrate that. Ted stood wanting to turn and run out of the tent, but knowing somehow that to do so would be fatal. As the people continued to sing, he suddenly took a deep breath. He turned to face Maury and said, “I don’t understand much about this—but I know that I need something in my life. Will you show me how?”

  “Come on,” she said, “let’s ask Owen to pray with you.”

  As they made their way down the aisle, Ted felt like every eye in the world was on him! He also felt like an utter fool. More than once he felt that he would have to turn and leave that place, but Maury’s hand was steady on his arm, and when they got to the front, there was Owen, a smile on his lips and light in his eyes.

  “Uncle Owen, Ted wants to be born again.”

  Owen put out his strong left hand and took Kingman’s hand. “Let’s talk a few minutes. Sit down here, Ted.” Maury stood to one side listening. The congregation continued to sing as others came, and the people whom Owen had enlisted to do this work spoke to them. From time to time, there would be a shout of joy as someone found the Lord—and more than once family members came and embraced those who had found Christ. Finally, Owen stood up and turned to Maury. “He’s come through! Stick with him, Maury. He’s a good man and he’s going to need your help.”

  Maury sat down beside Ted. She saw that there was a far-off look in his eyes and tears stained his cheeks. He looked helpless, almost like a baby, and, without thinking, she put her arms around him. “It’s going to be all right!” she whispered. “Now that you know the Lord, everything will be all right!”

  From across the room, Amos and Rose watched. Amos said in an unsteady voice, “It looks like we’re going to have a larger family, doesn’t it, Sweetheart? I never saw Maury act that way before.”

  Standing next to him Jerry was holding Bonnie’s hand. Bonnie’s eyes were filled with tears. She and Jerry had been inseparable, and now she looked over at Amos and managed a smile. Rose saw this and came to stand beside her. “Maybe we can have a double wedding and get both of our children married off in one grand swoop.”

  Jerry grinned and said, “We’ve got to bring this oil well in first.” Then he hugged Bonnie and looked down at her, love shining through his eyes.

  Two days later, at ten o’clock in the morning, Pete was sitting beside the ancient engine listening to it chug and groan. Across from him, Bailey was looking at his Dick Tracy book, his huge hands almost concealing the small item. Pete was thinking, If we never get oil, at least I’ve found out what it’s like to have folks that love you!

  He stiffened. The ground had started trembling, like a miniature earthquake. Suddenly, he knew what was happening. He let out a wild cry: “It’s coming in! It’s coming in!”

  His cry startled Bailey, who jumped to his feet, amazed to see Pete running away from the rig. He followed, not understanding completely, but echoing Pete’s words. “It’s coming in!”

  The house emptied itself instantly. No sooner had everyone gotten out than there was a ripping explosion and a strange whooshing sound from the rig.

  “Look at that pipe!” Dent yelled. “It’s coming out of the ground like a snake.”

  From down the hill, the oil workers from Kingman, and others who had come to watch, started running up the hill. It was a frightening sight. Maury reached out and grabbed Ted, saying, “What is it? What’s happening?”

  Kingman was watching carefully, his eyes narrowed. “We’ve hit natural gas. It’s pushing that column of pipe right out of the ground.”

  There was a terrible screeching sound of metal tearing and rising. It rose slowly, reaching the height of the derrick, and there it began to buckle. The whole thing was falling to pieces, the pipe joints banging as they cracked free and the lengths of pipe falling away, only to be replaced by more pipe. The casing began to fold and to gather in on itself so the derrick could no longer confine it. The derrick began to break apart with popping crossties and legs working apart as the casing sought to expand.

  “It’s going! It’s going!” Pete yelled, doing an Indian war dance. He grabbed Leslie when she came out of the house and said, “It’s come in, Sweetheart—it’s come in! Look at that!” The old derrick tottered and slowly collapsed to the ground with a massive crash. It seemed to sh
ake the earth, and still the casing continued to climb out of the steaming wreckage.

  “I never saw anything like that!” Ray breathed, holding on to Winona unconsciously. They stood together and watched as the pipe rose high into the air.

  “Me either,” Winona murmured. “What happens next?”

  “I don’t know—but something’s sure gonna happen.”

  Finally the casing was completely expelled, covering the wreckage of the rigging platform. There was a moment’s quiet and they all stood completely still, for there was a rumbling with something sinister about it; from deep down in the bowels of the earth it came. Pete held his breath and then suddenly, he yelled, “Look! There it is!” and then from the pile of casing came a little mud that seemed to bubble up. It seemed to cough and sputter, and some rocks shot into the air. Then there was a tremendous explosion, like a huge belch. It boomed, and a great gush of mud and water exploded, spreading over the hilltop. Then came another silence.

  “What is it, Pete? What’s happening?” Jerry demanded.

  “Just watch and you’ll see.”

  They did see. Suddenly the ground swayed again like an earthquake. There was a crashing sound, and the well exploded. A yellow geyser burst into the sky over their heads. It climbed up and kept climbing for over a hundred feet and then began cascading over. Pete ran out and the liquid fell on him, covering him until his skin glistened with the dark brown fluid. “It’s oil!” he said. He tasted it and said, “First-quality crude oil!”

  From down the hill, Horace Kingman and the others watched the geyser of crude oil make a plume as it issued from the earth. “Well, that’s it,” he said quietly. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  Pete had run out from under the rain of oil and grabbed Leslie again. Everybody was pounding shoulders and grinning like maniacs. They were interrupted by a tall, burly man who shoved his way through the family. He grabbed Pete by the arm and said, “Two fifty—two fifty a barrel against the first fifty thousand!”