Tilly loaded her plate high with pancakes. "Ran into the new deputy. Clara says I need to start paying protection."
"Don't you do it! Kate Anderson would turn over in her grave, girl. Lawmen have always been a hardship in our business. Ten years ago, when I quit, Oklahoma had just become a state and it's just got worse ever since." Bessie dabbed her mouth with a white linen napkin. "You got a good thing going. Your granny taught you well. She and I had some good times back in our day" "Granny spoke well of you," Tilly said.
Briar would have given his breakfast to a pack of hungry hounds to know just what business they were talking about, but he wasn't about to ask. If he did and Tilly told him without a moment's hesitation that she was a ... scarlet woman, he'd blush all the way to ends of his toenails. Good Lord, just thinking about Bessie and Beulah doing that was enough to make him choke on a bite of sausage.
"Wasn't no one better in these parts than your granny, girl," Beulah said. "Woman wasn't afraid of the devil himself. 'Course she was married to Lucifer's brother. That Melvin Anderson was a piece of work. Only person on earth who could bring him to his knees was your granny. Someday you'll meet a man who'll fall in love with you like that"
Tilly shook her head. "Sweet Jesus, I hope not. I don't think I could handle it."
"You're not supposed to take the Lord's name in vain," Nellie chided.
Tilly just laughed.
Briar laid his napkin beside his plate. "Would you ladies please excuse me? The meal was fine, Dulcie. I look forward to supper."
"Fine young man," Bessie said after they heard Briar's car engine start up and the noise disappear down the street. "He might be the very one, Tilly."
"No, ma'am, I'm not interested in that one. Clara can have him," Tilly said.
"I wouldn't have that spawn of the devil," Clara said emphatically.
"Hmmm, seems that was what your grandmother said about Melvin about six months before she married him. She wasn't about to marry up with no eviltempered cotton farmer," Bessie said.
"History does not repeat itself in this household. He's oil field trash and I'm not looking for a man anyway," Clara said.
Beulah playfully slapped at Bessie's shoulder. "Leave the girl alone. We didn't meddle with her grandmother and we won't meddle with her."
"I'd take him in a heartbeat," Olivia said. "I bet he'd make real pretty babies."
Bessie gasped. "Why, Olivia! The way you young people talk these days. Why, in my day, we'd have never mentioned such a thing."
"You didn't pick your husband by looks and thinking about how pretty babies would be with him?" Olivia teased.
"No, honey, we picked 'em for how much money was in their bank account," Beulah said, sopping up the last of the egg yolk on her plate with a biscuit. "Now, Bessie, let's go get busy on that altar cloth. It's going to take a lot of good Christian work to get God to forgive us for all our sins."
"Am I going to have to crochet altar cloths when I'm old?" Tilly asked.
"Honey, with your looks and callin' into the profession, you'll have to do more than crochet. And besides all that, me and Beulah ain't old. We still got time to get forgiven. We're just being sure we can sit down with your granny when we get up to the Pearly Gates and have us a good visit. Way we see it is we're just buying insurance with all our handiwork for the church." Bessie patted her shoulder as she left the dining room.
Briar parked his car a hundred yards back from the field where the new drilling would begin in a few days. Hereford cattle grazed in the fields to the east, not at all affected by the oil well business. Too bad one human heifer back on Main Street in Healdton couldn't learn something from the cows and not be so cantankerous.
She'd have you strung up by the ears and begging for someone to shoot you to put you out of your misery if she heard you even think about referring to her as a heifer. The woman is a witch, not a female cow. Cows are docile and tame. Witches are wicked and evil.
"Hey, Briar, we heard you were coming out to work on this one. Kind of surprised me," Cecil, the foreman, called out when he saw Briar. "Teamsters should be bringing the first of the loads any minute. We're hoping to get all of it in three days. I wish the railroad would get off their dead hind ends and get us a spur up here from Ringling. Be quicker and cheaper."
Briar eyed the area. It had a good feel about it. "Sure would. Is that the Anderson land?" He pointed toward the cotton fields to the west.
"Yep, you're lookin' right at it. Tucker owns that farm. Over there is Matilda's place" He pointed in the other direction. "I heard you was boardin' at Clara's. How'd you fall into that? From what I hear she's not too keen on preachers or oil folks"
"You heard right. She hates everything that has anything to do with the oil well business. I'm only there by a thread. If I'm one minute past ten o'clock gettin' back there any night, she'll evict me."
"Strange one, that lady is. I heard she got jilted by a preacher about ten years ago. The lady at the drug store gave me the whole story one day when I was in there for a lemonade."
"What was the story?" Briar asked, hearing the wagons coming down the road before he could even see them.
"Seems this preacher was boarding with her and the two of them fell in love. At least Clara thought so. Preacher man told her that he had to do some business up in Guthrie and he'd be back in one week to get her. They'd elope on the way to Louisiana where he had this big house and lots of servants. Now any woman with a lick of sense should've known a man wouldn't be preaching a tent revival in Healdton, Oklahoma if he was that rich. But anyway, she had her bags packed and was waiting in front of the drug store the next week. He didn't show up. And every day for a year, Clara Anderson went to town at three o'clock. Winter and summer alike. She sat down on that bench and waited for a man who never did come back. People think she's a little bit touched in the head," Cecil said.
"And Matilda and Tucker?" Briar asked.
"Strange birds but not that strange. Tucker runs cattle and grows cotton. Matilda grows corn and runs a few cattle," Cecil said. "I asked around, but there's not much to tell. They've been here since dirt and are wellthought of in town."
Briar could now see teamsters bringing the equipment he'd had shipped by rail. "Neither one of them married?"
"Not a one of the three. They're all only children. All their parents are dead and gone. They mind their own business and don't seem to give a hoot what anyone thinks of them. That Clara is pretty as a picture. I don't think she's touched at all. I think she was mad instead of in mourning. Probably sat there waiting to see if he came back so she could murder his sorry hide."
"Could be. She's a mean one, all right. You asked Tucker about the oil on his property?" Briar eyed the fence separating the two farms. Just on the other side of that barbed wire was probably the richest lode in the whole Healdton oil field.
"Sure did. Soon as I signed for this one. Went over there and sat on the porch with him for an hour. Told him what I come for. He offered me a glass of cold sweet tea and we talked all about cotton and cows, and he refused me. Said he wasn't having oil wells on his place," Cecil said.
"What's your opinion? All men want to make a dollar?"
"Opinion is that they are so wealthy they don't need the money and so weird they can have their own ways."
Briar nodded toward the first of the line of wagons pulling up to a stop. "Guess it's time to really go to work."
Cecil picked up a pair of heavy work gloves and shoved his hands down into them. "You might as well go on back home. We can sink this well. Everything so far has been shallow and this is one rich field. And the Andersons ain't going to sign leases with no one so you are wasting your time."
"Probably, but it's good for the boss to get his hands dirty every now and then. Keeps him in touch with reality, and I'm already paid up for two months at the Morning Glory Inn. Can't see myself staying away from Libby that long, but I kind of like this area. I'd like to get to know it better," Briar said.
&nb
sp; `Briar, you're the only man I know of who'll work as a roustabout for his own company" Cecil shook his head.
"Man keeps his finger on the heart of the company that way," Briar told him.
Clara dusted the whole house. It didn't erase the anger. She put on a day dress, hitched up the tail, tucking it under her belt, and filled up a bucket with water. She dropped down on her knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor while Dulcie washed clothes in a brand new wringer washer out on the screened back porch. The floor was spotless-the mad was still there. She tied a scarf around her dark hair, picked up a rag and bottle of dusting oil and went to the attic. It had been at least ten years since anyone had climbed the steps at the end of the hall. She had to brush away the cobwebs just to get through the narrow passage. Once at the top, she attacked the layers of dust as if St. Peter would write it down as a pure sin and wouldn't let her visit with Granny Anderson if there was a speck left.
Still, the fury raged on.
She checked the watch pinned to her shirtwaist pocket and at 4:00 went downstairs to the bathroom where she drew herself a tub full of hot water. Stepping out of her work dress, slip, corset and underpants, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Dirt on her nose. Smudges on her forehead. Wrinkles around her nose accentuated even more by the filth all over her face. No man would ever want an old maid like Clara Anderson. Probably never did. She'd been a fool once to think that Percy loved her. She wouldn't make that mistake again.
"Now what brought that on?" she asked the tired woman in the mirror.
The attraction you have for that oil man, her conscience answered bluntly.
"I do not," she sputtered aloud.
She eased into the tub full of hot water and bubbles. Leaning her head back against the back of the tub, she shut her eyes. A vision of Briar sitting at the kitchen table filled the dark void. Not breathtakingly handsome like Tucker, but rugged good looks that made her think about things she thought she'd buried when Percy left her holding a suitcase and a broken heart.
Tired from a whole day of fighting with herself, she dozed, not waking until she heard the schoolteachers coming up the stairs. She hurried out of the water, dried herself and peeked out the door, thankful they had gone into their rooms. Probably to preen for their male boarder. She wrapped a thick towel around her breasts and tucked the ends under her arm and tiptoed across the hall to her own room.
She slipped into a corset, covered it with a white cambric underskirt trimmed with tucks, embroidery insertions and a full ruffle. She wondered why designers made such fancy, frilly underthings for women. It was never seen. Well, almost never. Menfolks, she understood, did see it in the right situation, as in marriage. But they wouldn't appreciate all the work that went into the tiny embroidered flowers on her underskirt. They'd just be interested in putting it on the back of a chair or else throwing it on the floor.
The dress she chose for supper was two years old. She'd ordered it from the Sears catalog and it had been all the rage then. She hadn't ordered anything new since. It was a navy blue messaline with a yoke of tucked net, trimmed with embroidered lace and matching cuffs. The skirt was draped at each side with a panel back where it buttoned invisibly with messalinecovered buttons. She hitched up her skirt tail and climbed up on a chair so she could see her whole reflection in the mirror above her dresser.
"An old maid trying to impress a man," she mumbled.
Dulcie called from the bottom of the stairs. "Miss Clara, supper is about ready to go on the table"
"I'll be right down," she yelled. "I am not trying to impress anyone and I sure don't have time to change this late," she whispered as she hopped down off the chair and found her Sunday shoes.
It wasn't until she sat down at the head of the table that she realized she'd forgotten to go to town for the mail that day. The village had been robbed of its idiot and it was all Briar Nelson's fault.
The supper table was full that night when Briar took his place. Tucker had filled the last chair and the look on his face was one of sheer panic. Olivia gazed at him as if she could do much, much more than break house rules. Actually, poor old Tucker looked like he was one of those piglets that had been laid out on a platter with an apple in his mouth and Olivia was the person with the big butcher knife ready to begin carving.
Briar glanced around the supper table at the others. The two B's were occupied with their food. Nellie and Cornelia both had a twinkle in their eye, not like Olivia's, but one that said they were glad Tucker had joined them for supper. Dulcie had sat down to eat with the rest of the group but she still bustled around making sure food was passed and bowls stayed full.
Clara still looked like she could chew up Briar and spit his bones all over the southern part of Oklahoma. He'd scrubbed until his neck was pink and his fingernails clean. Not one bit of accursed oil had come to her supper table. Evidently, she didn't like losing and the look in her eye said that she could carry a grudge forever. He didn't doubt it for a minute. Cecil's predictions about her going to town to murder the man who'd jilted her were probably right. A cold shiver tickled its way up Briar's backbone.
"Tucker, pass me the beans, please," Olivia said sweetly.
Briar was glad Olivia hadn't set her hat for him. Poor old Tucker might reconsider and sell his farm outright to Rose Oil Company just to get away from that flirty girl. Briar cocked his head to one side. Buy a farm in Healdton? Now that was an idea. Libby would love it here in the wide open spaces. He'd have to think on that some more at a later time.
Tucker set his jaw firmly. "So tell me, Clara, what happened today? I was in the post office this afternoon and you weren't there. Were you ailin'? I heard some rumors."
"No, just got a dose of housecleaning fever and forgot the time," she said.
Nellie raised an eyebrow. "When I came home from the school, Inez stopped me in front of the drug store. Said you hadn't come to town today and she'd heard the fever had taken you suddenly. She asked if there was going to be a big funeral or just a graveside. If it was going to be a big thing at the church then she would close the store during the time of the service, but she didn't figure it would be a church funeral since you haven't been inside the building in ten years."
Clara gasped.
Nellie didn't miss a beat; scarcely even breathed. "Gossip that she is, I figure she's the very one who started the rumor. I told her was wrong. You were fine and dandy at breakfast this morning. Just because you didn't show up in town sure don't mean you'd passed on. You can change your routine doings on a whim, like all women can."
"What do you mean by housecleaning fever? Is it contagious?" Olivia asked.
"I was cleaning the attic. Nellie, do you think the rumor has been corrected? Mercy me, I wouldn't want people to start bringing food in here," Clara said.
Olivia snarled her nose. "Yuck, I hate housecleaning. You could afford a maid, Clara. Why don't you hire one?"
"I'm capable of doing my own housework. Just because I don't cook, doesn't mean I can't clean," Clara answered her shortly.
"I imagine the gossip fires have been quenched. Besides, if folks bring food, you just be the one to answer the door. That should stop them in their tracks. They'll think they're bringing vittles to a ghost," Nellie said.
Briar enjoyed pork chops, biscuits and gravy, green beans, and candied yams and made a mental list of what he'd learned. Olivia didn't like to clean. Clara couldn't cook, which explained Dulcie. Olivia made Tucker nervous with all those blatant advances toward him. Nellie was more than a little sassy. The two B's were quiet, but getting a kick out of the dinner conversation. It was much, much better than living in the hotel and taking his meals wherever he could find a cafe with an empty chair.
Bessie finally chuckled down deep in her chest. "Why, I bet it's been two weeks since I went to town. Needed some cotton thread to crochet with and walked up to the general store. Wonder why Inez didn't tell everyone I was dead. Not a soul brought food. I'm disappointed. Someone could have at least toted
in a pecan pie."
"Bessie, everyone thinks us two old dinosaurs died years ago. Most of our generation has already given up the ghost. Clara needs to let go of that quirk she's got of going to town every day for the mail at the same time. Then people won't be thinking she's kicked the bucket and joined us in the hereafter," Beulah said.
"Let's change the subject," Clara said. "I'm not dead and it's a morbid supper topic. Tucker, what brought you into town for supper tonight? Not that I'm fussin' one bit. We always love to have your company"
Tucker piled a few more yams on his plate. "Figured I'd better come see if you killed Briar or if he killed you, havin' to stay the same house. Got to admit it did give me a start when I heard you'd passed on. I knew any kind of fever wouldn't kill you, though. If you had died, it would be of sheer stubbornness."
"Well, we're glad you're here, Tucker. We don't even care what made you leave the farm and come to town. It's so nice to have a fresh face at the table, especially yours," Olivia said, sugar syrup oozing from her voice.
Tucker didn't return the smile, barely nodded at the woman, afraid to give her an inch of encouragement for fear she'd be packed and in his car by the time he swallowed his last bite.
Clara shot her cousin a mean look down the length of the long dining room table. "Me, stubborn? How can you say that?"
"You are and you know it," Tucker said.
"What makes me so stubborn? I'd say you and Tilly could outdo me any day of the week."
"You're stubborn because you insist on working for a living. You know you could come out to either of the farms and live with me or Tilly, but you stay right here, running a boarding house," Tucker said.
"You against a woman working?" Briar asked.
"Yes, I am. A woman's place is in the home. What's your opinion?" Tucker asked.
"Don't know that I've got one," Briar answered.
"Don't get Tucker started on that issue," Clara said. "He'll stay on the soap box all through supper if you do."
Nellie raised an eyebrow halfway to heaven. "Oh, no. Not only do I want to hear his opinion, I want to express mine. So now, Mr. Anderson, elaborate. Why shouldn't a woman work outside the home? We've fought long and hard for the right to make our own decisions."
Morning Glory Page 4
