"Would you please give us a ride? We can ride in the back of the truck so we won't get the seats dirty," Clara said.
"Sure, I'll be glad to take you two over there" Tucker wanted to dance a jig. Maybe Olivia was over her infatuation with him. He helped the ladies get situated in the back of his pickup truck and drove them to Tilly's.
"I'll let you ladies out and be on my way. Got a week's work to get done this afternoon. By the way, did any of that oil gush over into my cotton?" he asked as they crawled out of the truck bed and stood in the yard.
"Didn't notice any," Clara said. "To tell the truth I didn't look at the plants, but I think most of it went straight up and fell back down on top of the men"
Tilly carefully shut the barn doors, sliding the chain through the handles and slipping a padlock in the links. She had heard the truck coming up the lane and figured it was Tucker bringing Clara for the afternoon. She shielded her eyes from the glaring sun with the back of her hand and watched the familiar old vehicle clamoring down the rutted pathway from one farm to the other.
Tilly laughed aloud when she saw the mess Clara and Olivia were in. "Oh my gosh. Who won?"
"Won?" Clara frowned.
Tilly tilted her head to one side and slowly ambled around the two women. "Won the fight? Which one of you started it?"
"We didn't fight," Olivia said. "At least, not until Clara said I couldn't stay in the rig shack and clean up and wear Cecil's overalls."
"Then she threw you down in the mud and-" Tilly asked.
Olivia sighed dramatically. "No, then we walked to Tucker's place and he brought us over here."
"We were at the rig when the gusher came in," Clara said.
"Oh, so he did find oil. Guess that means we've got some on our property after all. Tucker, are you still firm on not leasing?" Tilly leaned against the truck.
"I'll always be firm on that. I'm not having one of those things on my land. See y'all later." Tucker waved as he drove away.
"So could we please get cleaned up? I don't want Cecil to see me like this," Olivia said impatiently.
"He already did," Clara said.
"You know what I mean," Olivia peeled back a strand of hair stuck to her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
"Please, Tilly. I'll even clean the bathroom when we finish," Clara said.
"Have at it, then. The bathroom is already a mess," Tilly said.
Before Clara and Olivia could get started toward the house, another truck bearing the Rose Oil logo turned up the lane. Briar braked in the exact same spot where Tucker had been parked. "I just wanted to be sure you got here all right. Felt bad leaving you standing there in a puddle of oil, but had to get that thing capped off. Dry as it is, fire could start" He didn't even look at the other two women.
"I'm here and I am fine," Clara said curtly. "Olivia, let's go to the house and get this off. It smells horrible."
"Smells like money to me. Congratulations on hitting oil," Tilly told Briar.
"Thank you. Be on my way then. Just wanted to make sure Clara was all right. Probably won't be in for supper tonight. Give Dulcie my regrets" Briar tipped his dirty hat at the ladies.
"One minute past ten and your things will be on the porch," Clara told him.
He stopped in his tracks and turned abruptly. "You sure are some piece of work. I won't be out drinking moonshine or playing pool. I'll be working."
"And rules are rules," Clara smarted off, angry at herself for even thinking about kissing those lips or enjoying the feel of him under her.
"Then I'll be there. The guys can take care of whatever needs to be done past that," he said.
"That was hateful," Tilly said when Briar's truck was nothing but a silhouette beyond a cloud of red dust.
Clara shrugged and trudged off toward the house where she sat down on the back porch and took off her shoes and then rolled down ruined stockings. Inside the screened back porch, she stepped out of a ruined day dress, a permanently stained white lace camisole and petticoat. It wasn't until she got to the final layer, bloomers and a brassiere, that she found clothing that wouldn't be burned in Tilly's trash barrel.
Olivia followed Clara's example. Shoes and stockings were left on the back porch and soiled clothing beside the back door. "You really were awful. He was nice enough to come and check on you"
Tilly came in behind them. "That's Clara most days since that blasted preacher broke her heart. Come on, my dear cousin, since you're the one who needs to clean up your attitude as well as your hide, you can have the first bath. Olivia, you can bend over the kitchen sink and I'll go to work on that hair."
"My attitude isn't dirty," Clara argued.
"No, darlin', it is just as sweet as honey," Tilly said sarcastically. "And if you believe that, then you'll also believe I'm St. Peter's sister. Briar isn't the devil, you know. He's just a man working for a living, and it's time you laid down this martyr act and woke up. If you want to be an old maid, then be one, but don't be cantankerous because you didn't get that big family you really wanted."
Clara pointed her finger at Tilly. "Don't you preach at me"
"Don't make me"
"Hey, don't fight," Olivia put in.
"Don't get between cousins, darlin'." Tilly shot Olivia a mean look.
"Briar is-" Clara started then stopped. What was Briar?
"Oh, go on upstairs and take a bath. You can figure out what Briar is while you do it. You sure don't have to tell me what or who he is. I haven't seen anyone fluster you so much since Tommy Taylor back in the fourth grade," Tilly said.
Clara ran the deep claw-footed bathtub full and sank down to her chin in the warm water. Tilly was right. No one had ever bewildered her like Briar. With Percy, she'd fancied herself in love and when he proposed, she'd accepted. Her mother had just died from pneumonia a few months before he arrived and Clara wanted a husband and kids. Percy offered both. Then he shattered the dream when he disappeared. Somehow, other than Cyrus down at the pool hall, no other man in Healdton had enough nerve to approach her after that. Clara knew Cyrus was just interested in her bank account and property. He'd take on a witch with a broom and a wart on her nose to get those two things.
She lathered a cloth with soap and began to scrub, but it couldn't wash away the confusion. Why didn't she just admit the fact that she was very attracted to Briar? No, she would not! Besides, even if she did admit that Briar was attractive, that didn't mean he was interested in her. For the first time, she wished she was ten years younger and there had never been a Percy in her past. But hindsight is the only pure vision in the world, and it wasn't doing her a bit of good that day.
Every bone in Briar's body ached by the time he parked his car in front of the Morning Glory Inn. Tucker's fantastic lunch had long since vanished and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He could feel the grit and grime imbedded into his skin and the stench of sweat and crude oil mixed together in his clothing. Even more than food, he craved a long, hot, soaking bath. He checked his watch. Five minutes until ten. At least he wouldn't be sleeping in his car or the shack out at the rig.
"So you made it on time. Congratulations," Clara said from the deep shadows at the corner of the porch. "It's been a long time since someone waited up for me. Sorry to disappoint you and get here before my curfew. In five more minutes you could have tossed my belongings out in the yard," he said wearily.
"Oh, hush. Go get cleaned up and I'll make you a sandwich in the kitchen. You're probably hungry and if you go fumbling around in there, you'll wake the whole house with your noise."
"Well, well. Did that oil baptism sweeten up your attitude?"
"You want to argue or eat?"
"Eat."
"Then go clean up. Bathroom is empty. Towels are laid out. If you're not in the kitchen in twenty minutes, you'll go to bed hungry" She padded across the porch in her bare feet, toes sticking out past the end of a white nightgown covered with a long pale pink robe.
Briar's breath caught in his chest at the
sight of her with her dark hair hanging down her back in a long, ropey braid and the pristine robe buttoned up to her neck. He trudged up the steps one at a time, remembering other times when he was that tired, even if it had been years before; a time when another woman with long dark hair had taken his eye. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the vivid memories of the wedding of the century on the East Coast. The bride wore white lace. Briar wore formal black. They'd said their vows in front of a whole church full of friends. She'd vowed to love and honor him until death parted them.
Briar Nelson put the wedding out of his mind as he scrubbed away the grime of the day. It did no good to dwell on unpleasant things. He chastised himself as he did. He had no right to think about Clara in any terms other than admiring her as a lovely, headstrong, opinionated woman.
Clara sliced two healthy chunks of bread from a fresh loaf Dulcie had made that afternoon and shaved off enough ham to put a sandwich together. Then she peeled two apples, cut them into quarters and added them to the platter. She had just finished pouring a tall glass of tea when she felt his presence in the room with her.
"You move quietly," she said.
Still wet, his hair was slicked back. He smelled of soap and wore a pair of dark-colored trousers with a blue chambray shirt hanging out. He'd never looked more fetching to Clara.
"Rest of the house appears to be sleeping," he said softly. "Didn't want to wake anyone up. They might call in the sheriff to see what happened to Clara Anderson. This nice lady has evidently crawled into her body and is posing as her."
Clara frowned at him. "You're skating on thin ice, Mr. Nelson."
"Yes, ma'am." he sat down and picked up the sandwich. It tasted as good as any steak he'd ever eaten. He wondered what had turned Clara's attitude from downright surly to nice in one afternoon. What had Tilly said to her? Or did he owe his good fortune to Olivia?
"When you finish, put the dishes in the sink and don't make a lot of noise." Clara fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. All she needed was for someone to come downstairs for a glass of milk and catch her in the kitchen dressed in her nightgown and robe with Briar freshly bathed and his shirttail untucked. Talk would spread faster than a wild oil well fire. By morning the upright ladies of Healdton would be standing on her porch ready to brand a big H on her chest. H ... for harlot.
He nodded. "I'll be glad to do that, and thanks for supper. I didn't realize how hungry I was."
Before she went two steps there was a gentle knock on the back door. She stopped dead in her steps, every known tragedy vying for a place in her mind. Tilly had gotten caught and someone was coming to ask her to bail her cousin out of jail. Tucker had had an accident. It had to be something like that because no one in Healdton, Oklahoma went calling at ten o'clock at night.
Briar grinned. "Late visitor? Didn't know you were that kind of woman, Clara."
"I am not, and you don't know me well enough to tease me about something like that," she said with an upward tilt to her chin.
"Want me to answer it and tell the visitor that you're already in bed?"
"No, I can take care of it."
She crossed the kitchen and opened the door.
"Hello, I saw your light on and-" a woman said from the dimness of the late night.
Clara drew her robe closer around her bosom. "If you are looking for a room, I'm booked solid."
"No, I'm looking for Clara Anderson. They told me down at the hotel that she runs this place. Are you Clara?"
"Yes, I am. What can I do for you? Would you like to come inside?"
"Thank you," the woman said and stepped into the light. A diminutive blond with pale skin, she had brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles over her nose. "I'm on my way home to Austin, Texas, and I wanted to stop and meet you. I can see why Percy loved you. You are truly very lovely."
"Who are you?" Clara paled.
Briar stopped chewing and looked up. He should absent himself and take the remainder of his supper to his room but Clara looked like she was about to fall in a heap of pink cotton and the other woman kept rudely staring as if transfixed. Maybe he'd better stay and catch Clara when she fainted. The woman mentioned Percy, the man who'd jilted Clara. Wild horses couldn't have driven Briar from the kitchen when he finally put two and two together.
"I am Percy's wife," the woman told her bluntly. "Would you mind if I sit down?"
Clara's nodded and turned even paler. She motioned toward a chair across the table then pulled out the one beside Briar and melted into it. "Percy's wife?"
The woman sat down. "Yes, Percy's wife. My name is Catherine. Percy and I were married for fifteen years. We have three children. The oldest is fourteen. The youngest, ten. I met Percy when he came to preach a revival in Austin. We were married after a whirlwind courtship and moved to Louisiana where he had a church. Ten years ago I was expecting our third child, so I didn't go on the yearly revival rounds with him through Texas and Oklahoma. When he came home I knew something was wrong, but it wasn't until he died a few weeks ago that I finally understood. In the delirium of the fever he kept calling out for Clara and saying how sorry he was. I pieced the story together."
"Percy is dead and he was married." Clara couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Yes, to both. I wanted to meet you. I've wondered what happened when he didn't come back here after he'd offered to marry you. My children and I were with him when he died over near Durant. A little town named Achille. Revival rounds. Once a year religiously. He took a fever and was dead in three days. Doctor didn't know what it was but said he'd seen a couple of cases like it recently. We were traveling near here and I wanted to see just who Clara was and if you were still here. That was the only time I didn't go on rounds with him, so I do honestly think you are the only woman who... " Her words trailed off.
"I don't know what to say," Clara said.
"I wouldn't either if I was in your shoes. He ended up telling me the whole story. He'd really thought about eloping with you and divorcing me, but he was a preacher and he would have lost his church. Preaching was all he knew. I'm glad you didn't let it ruin your life. Your husband here looks very nice."
"Oh, we're not-" Clara blushed and stammered.
Briar put his arm around Clara and hugged her close. "Thank you. We are very happy. I'm glad you came by to explain things. Clara has told me about that time in her life and we've wondered what happened. I held with the theory that he was killed and no one knew to inform her. Will you be staying long at the hotel?"
"No, we'll be leaving tomorrow morning at daybreak. My oldest child, a son, is driving for us. We've decided to relocate to Austin where I still have family. I just had to see you. Percy was very charismatic. I can understand why you might have believed him."
"I see." Clara's voice was a hoarse whisper.
Briar's arm tightened around Clara's quivering shoulders. Was she trembling from anger or despair?
"I'll be going now. I wanted to see you. But there was another reason I came tonight. In Percy's things, there was this letter. It's got your name on it and your address. I found it in the back of his suitcase he carried on revival rounds. I didn't open it. Didn't seem fitting, but doesn't seem right for me to destroy it or keep it either." Catherine laid the letter on the table. "It's your letter. So I'm going to leave it with you. I'll be going now. Of course, you didn't know he was married so I can't blame you. Like I said, he was very charming."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know," Clara said.
Catherine headed toward the door. "Goodbye, Clara"
Briar opened the door for her and bid her a good night and safe trip.
Clara stared dumbly at the letter.
"Why did you let her think you were my husband?" Clara continued to glare at the letter as if it were a rattlesnake lying on her kitchen table.
"She already thought it. Did you want her to know that you'd let her husband turn you into a crazy woman who went to town looking for him for a whole year? Did you, Clara?" Briar
asked.
"No. I just can't imagine Percy dead. He's cheated me again."
"Of what? A jail sentence? You did plan on shooting him the minute he showed his face back in Healdton, didn't you?"
"How did you know?" she gasped.
Briar shrugged.
She got up so abruptly that the chair she'd been sitting in rocked back and forth on three legs until Briar steadied it. She paced the floor, stopping every few sec onds to look at the letter. What could it possibly say? Did he beg for forgiveness? Not a snowball's chance in hell of that. Did it explain the reason he couldn't come back for her? I have a wife and two kids, a third on the way. The kisses we shared were truly an abomination unto the Lord. I can't marry you because that would be bigamy. I shouldn't have kissed you. The women of the town wouldn't put a crimson H on her chest-it would be the infamous scarlet letter A! Thank goodness they were leaving the first thing tomorrow morning before anyone knew who they were.
Briar pushed back his chair and put his dishes into the sink. "Thank you again for supper and for not throwing me out when I was almost late. See you at breakfast"
"Don't you dare leave," Clara said.
"It's late. You've got a letter to read and I've got to work tomorrow"
Clara pointed at the letter. "You're not leaving me alone in the same room with that"
Briar stifled a yawn. "You are a big girl, Clara. You can handle whatever it says. I'm going to bed"
"I don't think I can," Clara said. "I've waited ten years and now all I get is a piece of paper. No satisfaction in that."
The chair grated against the floor when he sat back down. "Clara, way I see it is like this. He's dead and that note was written a long time ago. Possibly right after he left. Maybe even before. He had no option but to never come back. If you didn't kill him, then Tucker would. Or Tilly with that sawed-off shotgun she keeps under the seat in her moonshine-running car."
Morning Glory Page 7
