Morning Glory

by Carolyn Brown

  "I understand your position, Nellie. You don't have a male cousin or an inheritance to keep you. You must work, and there is a place for schoolteachers until they marry, of course. But Clara has a choice and works when she doesn't have to," Tucker said.

  Cornelia took up the cause. "I think any woman, regardless of the situation, should be allowed to make those decisions for herself."

  "They do have that right. But Tucker also has the right not to agree," Briar said.

  "Thank you" Tucker nodded toward Briar. "If every one of you wants to work, that's fine. But when I find a woman, she'll be someone who will be content to make a home and raise a family for me"

  "Good luck, darlin'," Bessie chuckled. "If you find one like that she'll be about the age of me or Beulah or your granny. You were born a generation or two too late. There's a rebellion in the air and the womenfolk are about to bust out of their corsets, Tucker Anderson"

  "Yes, ma'am, I might have really been born too late in the scheme of things, but if I can't have what I want, then I'll do without," Tucker said. "Now Briar, tell me what oil company is it you've signed on with?" He changed the subject before Nellie could suck up enough air to begin again.

  "I'm a roustabout for Rose Oil Company," Briar said.

  "Rose Oil Company? Had a man by the name of Cecil Broadrick come visit me about leasing my land to that company. Nice enough fellow. Know him?" Tucker asked.

  "Know him well. He works with me. We just started setting up equipment today to sink a well right across the pasture fence from your land. All the indications are that your property would have some oil. You could stand to make a lot of money," Briar said.

  "Told Cecil I wasn't interested. I've told Standard Oil no, as well as Magnolia and a dozen other fly-bynight companies. I like sitting on my back porch and looking out over the land, seeing nothing but rows and rows of cotton," Tucker said.

  "And Tilly?" Briar asked cautiously.

  "Tilly raises corn over on her place and runs a fine herd of cattle," Tucker said. "She's a very private lady. Don't like lease hounds or anyone coming uninvited."

  "I see," Briar said seriously. There was nothing to keep him in Healdton if he couldn't talk the Andersons into leasing their land and selling him their mineral rights. Cecil could run the business without him. Yet, even in the short while he'd been there, he found himself drawn to the area and the town.

  Clara used her napkin to wipe away a smirk as well as a dab of grease from her mouth. Briar Nelson might be a refreshing change at the dinner table but he sure hadn't been in Healdton since the day when God divided the land from the water so he had no right to the real family history. He wasn't Healdton bred, born and raised and had no idea what went on in their world. It wasn't one bit of his business why Tilly or Tucker didn't want a bunch of people fooling around on their property. But still it was amusing to watch the fireworks at the supper table: Dulcie all puffed up like a toad frog; Tucker embarrassed at the blatant attention from Olivia; Nellie and Cornelia up on a high horse about their jobs; and just what was Briar up to anyway?

  Clara chanced a look toward Briar to find him staring at her. Not just looking or gazing past her into space, but looking intently into her eyes as if he were prowling around in her soul. She couldn't force herself to look away. The space between them snapped and crackled with friction. She'd never experienced such an upheaval of emotions, not even when Percy dropped off the face of the earth ten years before.

  But why now? she asked herself. She despised him. One did not yearn for something they detested. Why, he didn't even have enough sense to leave when he knew he wasn't wanted.

  Olivia broke the silence. "Briar, is your job very dangerous?"

  Briar turned away from Clara's icy cold glare to look at Olivia. "Not as much as a tool-pusher or a driller. I supply equipment to the rig floor when it's needed"

  "Then you're the low man in the business?" Clara asked.

  "You might say that," Briar answered.

  "I thought a roughneck was on the bottom of the job list," Beulah said.

  "Not hardly." Briar shook his head.

  "Then enlighten us and tell us what a roughneck does," Beulah said.

  "A roughneck is one of a team of three. He's responsible for the operation of equipment and machinery and answers to the driller," he said.

  "And the driller, what does he do?" Beulah asked.

  "He's got a high level of responsibility. He's in charge of everything that happens on and above the rig floor. He operates the drilling equipment that makes the hole in the earth to reach the oil," Briar explained.

  Olivia wasn't about to be left out of the conversation. Tucker would never notice her if she didn't keep herself in the spotlight. "Is there anyone who's above this driller man?"

  "The derrickman," Briar explained.

  "Then tell us about him." Olivia didn't care what they did with those filthy oil wells. The only good thing about them was that they were bringing money to the banks and insured her job. But if she kept flirting with Briar maybe it would make Tucker jealous.

  "The derrickman is the one who takes care of the mud pumps, mud holding pits and the machines in the mud pump room. He also helps the roughnecks when they need it. He's the person who'll climb the derrick to help with the drill pipe when it's being pulled up out of the hole," Briar told them.

  "I see," Olivia mumbled without hearing a word of what he'd said.

  "Then the derrick fellow is the one who had the most dangerous job?" Beulah asked.

  "Most of the jobs around a rig are dangerous," Briar said.

  Olivia stifled a yawn.

  "And what is your stand on women staying at home, Olivia?" Briar deliberately changed the subject.

  "Oh, I think all married women should stay home. They should have a maid, a wonderful woman like Dulcie to cook, and a gardener to keep the grounds lovely. They should plan parties and social events," Olivia said.

  "And children?" Briar asked.

  "One. Just enough to carry on the ... name," Olivia stammered only slightly, glad she'd bit her tongue before she said Anderson name.

  "I see," Briar said.

  Bessie narrowed her eyes at Briar. "Women sure have it better than me and Beulah and Kate, that would be these Anderson kids' granny, did in our day. Back then most menfolks would have died before they let their wives work outside the home. But I have to say we did make our own way, didn't we? Why are you interested in Olivia's opinion on women's rights?"

  "Just wondering if she was going to apply for a job with Rose Oil as a roustabout or if she was going to get married and stay home," Briar said.

  Nellie laid down her fork and napkin and got ready for a debate. "I'm telling y'all, there'll come a day when women will have all the rights men have. If they want to put on britches and crawl all over a dirty oil rig, then they should be able to do it without a fuss from anyone. We'll be able to wear what we want right out in public, say what we think and have all the rights a man does. They're already doctors and lawyers. There'll come a day when a woman will be President of the United States, too"

  Tucker shook his head. "Ain't no way a woman will ever sit in the White House. And no woman is going to be doctoring me. If I've got a legal problem, I won't be taking it to a woman lawyer either."

  "See, I told you all. He's getting ready to stomp around on the soap box," Clara moaned.

  "Why are you so dead set against women doctors and lawyers? I think you are one of those male chauvinists we read about in our rights literature," Nellie said.

  Tucker didn't hesitate a single minute. "I'll tell you why. Women gossip. I don't care what you all say. You know or even suspect something and you're settin' your apron strings on fire trying to get out the back door to tell it to your friend or neighbor. Look at what happened today when Clara forgot to go get the mail. She's already dead and the funeral is being planned. I don't want some woman doctor spreading it all over town that I've got a boil on my fanny ... pardon me, ladies."
He glanced at Bessie and Beulah. "And I sure don't want some lawyer lady telling all my legal business to her little Sunday School class social party. So that's why I don't intend to be using lawyers or doctors who aren't men. And I would never vote for a woman president."

  "I suppose men never tell secrets, do they? What makes you think a woman started the rumors that Clara was dead? Couldn't it have been a man?" Nellie shot right back at him.

  "Men keep their secrets close to their hearts and don't tell everything they know, do they Briar?" Tucker asked.

  "That's a fact," Briar answered.

  Clara pointed at him. "Oh, you stay out of this. And you stop asking him questions, Tucker. He's only here because I didn't use a woman to help me draw up a renter's lease. A woman would have seen to it that I could revoke the contract any time I wanted. But that Lenny Dawson just hurried me through the office like I was a simple-minded child, the way he treats all women."

  "I'll ask Briar anything I please. You might not want him here, but personally, I'm enjoying male conversation at the dinner table," Tucker argued, even though it felt like Granny Anderson was sitting on his shoulder frowning at him for taking sides against blood kin.

  "Thank you" Briar pushed his empty plate back.

  "You are very welcome," Tucker said seriously. "Now Clara, darlin', let's not fight, and if you insist on working, you need to realize all of it isn't honey pie and cream. Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. Like contend with a debate over the supper table"

  Olivia pepped up and put in her two cents. "Truer words were never spoken. Why just today I had to apologize to a customer because I'd gotten short. I had good reason because she was so demanding and there were at least ten people in line behind her, but Mr. Jones, the president of the bank, says she's got more money than Midas and more clout than God, so we have to keep her happy."

  "Lema came in to see you, did she?" Bessie asked.

  "We aren't allowed to call names" Olivia threw up her right hand in a theatrical gesture.

  "And my point is proven," Tucker told Briar.

  Briar barely chuckled.

  Clara frowned at both of them.

  "You don't have to call names. Lema, Bessie, Beulah, Kate and me were the women who got that bank started. Jeremiah Jones can prance around in his three piece suit all day and issue orders, but if we took our money out, he'd be out there in bibbed overalls doing oil field work tomorrow morning. So if Lema wants to come in there and demand fifteen minutes of your time, Olivia, it would bode you well to give it to her with a big smile. After all, if she puts her money in the other Healdton bank, you might lose your job and really be the first woman up there busting your fingernails on an oil rig," Bessie laughed.

  "Grandpa was on the board of directors, not Granny," Clara told Bessie.

  "Yes, he was, but it was Kate Anderson's money that put him there. She was a good woman, that Kate was. Where do you and Tilly think you got your gumption? From your grandmother, that's who. She didn't give two hoots what anyone thought of her. She went about her business and made a fortune with it. Now, Beulah, I think I'll take my dessert to my room and work on that altar cloth. We'll have it done by the fourth of July if we stay with it. Besides I just remembered a couple of old stories about Kate and I want to see if my memory is good"

  Beulah picked up the saucer holding a wedge of chocolate cake. "Sounds like a good idea to me. But, dearie, your mind will be the last thing that plays out. Kate always said you had the memory of an elephant."

  "And with Dulcie's cooking, I'm well on the way to having an elephant's fanny, too. Pardon me, gentlemen," Bessie laughed aloud, enjoying making both men blush.

  Rivulets of sweat trickled down between Clara's breasts, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She dabbed at the beads forming on her upper lip and even went so far as to wipe her neck, unladylike, when Tucker wasn't looking her way. But that stream inching its way down and settling at the top of her corset felt like a small spider crawling inside her undergarments.

  Tucker and Tilly had insisted she come out to the country and spend a day, so there she was, sitting in the heat, trying to keep some sort of breeze going with a paper fan. She planned on having lunch with Tucker, and then the afternoon and supper with Tilly. If the afternoon was any hotter than the morning she was going to shuck out of her clothes and spend the whole time stretched out on a bed at Tilly's place in nothing but her brassiere and bloomers.

  Holding ice-cold lemonade in her right hand, she kept a steady rhythm going with a cardboard fan in her left one. A very faint breeze kicked up enough to blow the fern fronds in baskets hanging between the porch posts. Not enough to bring any relief to a woman dressed in a long-sleeved dress and too many blasted undergarments. Clara would definitely march all the way from southern Oklahoma to the White House for women's rights if the day would come real soon when she could stop wearing corsets and throw away half of the proper underwear. She might even be willing to leave them on the White House lawn if it would do a bit of good.

  "If we don't get rain soon, there's going to be a slim cotton crop," Tucker said.

  Clara fanned faster. "I expect we could all live one year on what's in the bank"

  "Yes, we could, but I enjoy bringing in a good crop"

  "Hello," a faintly familiar voice yelled from the edge of the porch.

  Clara stopped fanning and fumed. "What is he doing here?"

  "I invited him for lunch. He's right across the fence line, not a quarter of a mile down there, and I've been enjoying his company at your supper table. Thought I'd return the favor," Tucker said.

  "I will draw and quarter you and feed your remains to Tilly's hogs," Clara smarted off.

  "Oh, grow up," Tucker hissed at her then yelled toward the end of the porch. "On around here, Briar. We're having something cold to drink. Can't say as it's cooling us down much but lunch isn't ready yet, so you might as well sit a spell. Sweet tea or lemonade?"

  Briar sat down in the porch swing. "Lemonade is fine."

  The rusty chains creaked and groaned with his weight. "Hot, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is," Clara tilted her head up and kept fanning. The silence was not comfortable. It was obvious that Clara would rather be dancing a slow waltz wrapped up in Lucifer's arms than sitting on the porch with Briar Nelson. Seconds lasted hours and the two minutes Tucker was gone was just short of eternity. Clara looked at the cloudless blue sky, the green cotton plants growing right up to the yard fence, the red roses blooming profusely on either side of the porch steps. Anything but Briar.

  "They tell me it might rain tomorrow," he said, finally breaking the silence.

  "And who is they and how would they know?" she asked icily.

  "They are the men I work with and they know because they've been in touch with another drilling site out in western Oklahoma. There's a storm out there and it's blowing this way," he said, his tone as cold as hers.

  Tucker backed out of the back screen door, carrying a tall glass filled with ice and a crystal pitcher full of lemonade. "Thought you might need a refill, Clara. I checked the pork roast while I was in there. It's coming right along. Should be ready in another fifteen minutes."

  "You cook?" Briar asked.

  "Sure do. Clara couldn't boil an egg without setting the house on fire, but she's the best at cleaning. Tilly and I are both good cooks, but our cleaning skills leave a lot to be desired. That's why we want her to sell the boarding house and move in with either of us. We could both use a cleaning lady." Tucker poured lemonade into all their glasses and sunk into a rocking chair.

  Another voice echoed from the end of the house. "Yoo-hoo, anybody home?"

  Tucker almost dropped his glass. "Good Lord! What is she doing here? Did you invite her, Clara? I'll have you drawn and quartered and fed to Tilly's hogs if you did."

  "Around here, Olivia," Clara called out in a singsong voice. "You grow up, and no, I did not invite her."

  "Well, looks like you've got
a party going on " Olivia batted her eyelashes and smiled at Tucker. "I won't intrude. I was out riding my bicycle and thought I'd stop by and see if you were home."

  "You must be exhausted. It's three miles to town" Clara grinned. "Come on out of that sweltering sun and pull up a rocking chair. Tucker, honey, please go get another glass of ice. And here it is lunch time. Maybe you'd better set another plate while you're in there."

  Olivia sank down into a rocking chair right next to Tucker. "Oh, I couldn't. I would enjoy a glass of something cold though before I pedal all the way back to town. It is so hot."

  "Why of course you'll stay for lunch," Clara said. "It's no trouble at all and you surely are not intruding. It will be delightful to have you"

  Olivia nodded. "Well, if you insist, I would enjoy the company. Saturdays are a bit long for me and that would be a special treat"

  Clara winked at Tucker, who was fuming. Not a single expression or nuance missed Briar. It should prove to be another tension-filled meal. Briar sighed. Good tender pork roast was one of his favorite meals, and now every bite would be glazed with stress.

  Before Tucker returned with Olivia's glass of ice, another man appeared at the foot of the steps. He was tall and muscular with a full head of curly blond hair and light brown eyes. He removed his hat before stepping up on the porch. "Briar, there's four men over at the site asking for work. Said you gave them a ride from Ardmore a couple of weeks ago. They claim you told them to talk to me if they didn't like working for Crystal Oil. What do you think?"

  "Hire them. They seemed like good men with experience," Briar said. "Let me introduce you to these ladies. This is Cecil Broadrick. That would be Clara over there in the pink dress and Olivia right next to her. You've met Tucker," Briar said.

  "Nice to meet you, ladies," Cecil said.

  "Likewise," Clara said.

  Olivia didn't miss a single muscle or blond hair, and she surely liked what she saw. "My pleasure, I assure you"