by Pamela Morsi
Henry Lee hesitated in his discourse, allowing Hannah to add up the ramifications of this consequence.
"That made Hiram Willard's stepfather-in-law as well as his brother," Hannah concluded. "And it made Willard Hiram's stepson-in-law, as well as younger brother."
Smiling at her quick wit, Henry Lee continued. "When both Nellie and Maude gave birth not three months apart, the cousins born were also uncle and nephew."
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. "I bet that was prime fodder for gossip for a good long time."
"About thirty years," Henry Lee agreed. "But it wasn't such a bad thing for business. The story was told and retold so much that nearly everyone has heard of the Sallisaw Table Company."
Henry Lee regaled Hannah with the story. "It might have died down just with the passage of time," he said, "but the two boys when they grew up fell in love with identical twin sisters!"
Hannah giggled, her eyes wide with amusement. "Did that make their children double cousins or what?"
"I don't know, but it sure made the Oscar family famous in these parts."
Neither Hiram nor Willard had yet retired to rocking chairs, and both greeted Henry Lee and Hannah in the shade of a young maple outside the building. Hands were shaken all around and the prerequisite discussion of the weather completed, before Henry Lee stated his business.
"I'm hoping to make some pews for a new little church over in the Oklahoma Territory," Henry Lee said. "I need some good lumber, and as much advice as you're willing to give. I know a bit about working the wood, but I'm self-taught and always willing to listen to those that know more about it."
As Willard talked to Henry Lee asking what his ideas were and what kind of lumber he was hoping to afford, Hiram stood back and took the young man's measure. He seemed a straightforward, upright young man and his woman seemed clean and decent, hanging on his every word. He decided that he liked the boy. When Hiram made a decision, it was rarely revoked.
"Come on in here, boy," Hiram called to him. "Let's see what you know about wood."
Henry Lee and Hannah followed the two men into the building. The smell of sawdust was fresh and pungent, but not a pile of it could be seen anywhere. The Oscars were fastidiously clean and knew well the fire dangers posed by their line of work.
The walls and cupboards contained more kinds of saws, chisels, clamps, planes, and calipers than Henry Lee had ever seen in his life and in the corner near the back window was a huge lathe run by a foot treadle. A fine piece of white oak waiting immobile in a vise, a bow saw ready at its side, was prepared to become part of a fancy chair back. A door stood open on the far wall and revealed an open area full of cut lumber of all descriptions and a huge pit saw in the middle of the yard.
Henry Lee felt a surge of excitement go through him and he quickly shared it with a smile to Hannah.
Hiram saw it, and with a nodding smile from his brother, was reassured that he was quite right about this boy.
"Come on now, let's see what you can do. See how much you know then we can figure out what we can teach you."
Henry Lee eagerly handed his jacket to Hannah and rolled up his sleeves. He felt like a kid who had just been given free rein in a candy store.
Willard drew Hannah away.
"My house is right through the woods there, down that path," he said pointing out the front door. "My Maude would be mighty pleased to have a brand-new person to gossip with," he told her smiling. "Your husband's going to have his hands full with Hiram, so tell my wife to set a couple more plates for dinner."
Hannah gave one last lingering look to her husband. He was diving into the work with cheerful enthusiasm. Pleased for him, she hummed a catchy tune while making her way through a path of cottonwoods to the house sitting on the rise.
Maude Oscar's kitchen was bustling with activity when Hannah arrived. Children of various sizes and ages wandered in and out as Maude alternately scolded or praised. She seemed delighted at her unexpected company and immediately set Hannah to peeling peaches for canning.
As soon as word got out that Maude had a guest, her mother/sister-in-law, Nellie, showed up and the twin daughters-in-law were not far behind. Daisy and Dulce were about Hannah's age, both pregnant and with toddlers in tow.
"I got a look at your husband down at the shed," Dulce said to her and then expressively drew the attention of the rest of the crowd. "He is some looker, your man! Why, he nearly took my breath away."
"Dulce May!" her sister scolded her. "Don't pay Dulce any mind," she told Hannah, patting her reassuringly on the arm. "She's always looking at the men, it don't mean nothing, it's just her way," Daisy explained to Hannah.
"It never hurts to look," Dulce insisted. "That's all I could do anyhow," she complained, patting her rounded stomach. "My man keeps my belly big as a cow with his young 'uns all the time. The only way I could get a man to look at me these days would be to set my hair on fire!"
Hannah laughed along with the rest, but sensed in Dulce a free spirit that was not so sorry to be tamed by a “belly as big as a cow."
“When are you due?" Hannah asked the twins.
"I'm expecting mine in about six weeks," Daisy answered, "but Dulce could have hers anytime, and she always does it early!"
"What about you?" Dulce asked her, "Maude said you was looking pretty peaked when you came in this morning."
"Dulce!" A chorus of disapproving relatives scolded the young woman for her curiosity.
"Oh no," Hannah told them, blushing furiously, "I'm not in the family way."
"You sure?" Nellie asked her. "That's one of the first signs, you know, feeling like to puke in the mornings."
"No," Hannah insisted. "We just got married." She felt a strange sense of pleased embarrassment. "We are kind of on our honeymoon."
"On your honeymoon!" Dulce exclaimed. "And you let your man get away for a whole day to build furniture? I wouldn't let my Jacob leave even to go to the outhouse!"
The women howled with laughter. Hannah covered her face in embarrassment. She had never heard women talk of such things in her life. But then, she reminded herself, she had never been one of the married women before.
She felt surprisingly comfortable with these plainspoken women and she felt safe enough to risk a question.
"It's kind of natural, then, to want your husband to be in bed with you?"
"They ain't nothing in the world more natural!" Dulce insisted.
"You don't think it's unbecoming for a Christian woman to be so ... so lustful?" Uncomfortable now, Hannah wished she had never brought the subject up.
"Didn't your mother talk to you?" Nellie asked.
"She's dead, and my stepmother did talk to me, but she never said anything about the kinds of feelings I have . . . well, with Henry Lee," Hannah admitted, blushing.
"Honey," Maude said, taking a seat at Hannah's right, “that's exactly how you're supposed to feel. It makes perfect sense. Why would a woman go through all she had to go through to get a baby, if the making of them was something she hated."
Nods of agreement were seen all around. "God intended for a man and a woman to enjoy the mating, so they'd be fruitful and multiply," Daisy put in.
"Besides," Dulce added, "it ain't fair that only the sinners should have fun!"
Laughter ricocheted through the kitchen again, and Hannah joined in.
The noon meal was served on the biggest table Hannah had ever seen. It was at least twenty feet long, large enough for every person in the family.
"That's one advantage of making your own furniture," Nellie told her. "You can have exactly what you want."
Henry Lee came in with the other men, looking flushed and happy. Woodworking was a hard job, but it was clean, satisfying work. He was basking in the admiration and respect he had received from the Oscar brothers.
"You've a natural feel for the wood," Hiram told him. "You can look at the raw lumber and see what's best to be done with it. That's not something that can be taught." The old ma
n shook his head. "My boys, they work hard and do exactly what I tell them, but they don't have what you and I have. It's a gift, just like singing or playing the fiddle."
The old man's approval lightened Henry Lee's step and working with the Oscars' marvelous collection of tools was sheer pleasure.
Henry Lee was seated next to Hannah at the long table and anxiously tried to tell her all the things he'd learned. Hannah's eyes rarely strayed from her husband as she listened to his animated description of the Oscars' woodshop.
"Hannah told us you're on your honeymoon," Dulce stated, sitting across from Henry Lee and thoroughly enjoying the bright handsome smile he'd been bestowing on Hannah.
Henry Lee grinned, only slightly embarrassed by the personal nature of the question.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered.
At the surprised looks from the men at the table, it was obvious that Henry Lee had said nothing about his newly married state.
"In fact," he went on, "Hannah's daddy is the preacher of the church that needs the pews. I'm kind of making them as a present to my father-in-law for letting me get away with his girl." His joke brought laughter around the table and he smiled warmly at his bride.
In the afternoon Hannah helped Maude carry the dozens of quarts of peach preserves down to the cellar, making room for them among the stacks of canned goods necessary to feed the Oscar clan for the winter. Hannah talked about her own home and all of the things she hoped to accomplish over the winter. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience to be with people who thought of her only as herself and Henry Lee's wife, not as the preacher's daughter.
Henry Lee was also enjoying the unusual circumstance of being neither the son of his ne'er-do-well father nor the whiskey man. He was accepted by the Oscars as an equal and relished his newfound normalcy.
Hiram showed Henry Lee the use of the coping saw and taught him to make fancy scrollwork for decoration.
"You do the scalloping in soft white pine," he told Henry Lee, "then when you put the finish on them, you make them match up to your other wood, like they was a part of it."
The edging and trims were new to Henry Lee and he eagerly absorbed all the information that the old man imparted.
"Back East they are counting on veneers to do everything for them," the older man complained, shaking his head. "But a piece is only as good as the wood and the workmanship, and covering up shoddy work with a fancy top piece is the same as cinching a Spanish saddle on a mule. All that silver looks mighty pretty, but it still ain't much to ride."
By late afternoon Henry Lee had decided on the lumber he wanted for the church benches. Hiram and Willard approved his choice of a fine-grained walnut. He'd use spruce or pine for the underneath parts, as they were softer and easier to work with, but the beauty of the walnut could not be duplicated elsewhere.
"You should be staying the night with us," Hiram told him. "We always got plenty of room, there was no need for you to get a hotel room in Muskogee."
Willard joked, "Now Hiram, you don't expect a man to spend his honeymoon with us. I'm thinking he'll be right grateful to get back to that hotel room this evening." The man winked conspiratorially. "That is, if you haven't plumb worn him out today."
Hiram waved the suggestion away. "He's young!" he announced and proceeded to tell a ribald story about a young man on his wedding night.
Henry Lee laughed good-naturedly, but he was eager to be alone with his wife. He felt good, optimistic about their future. It seemed that after a day with the praise and encouragement of the Oscar brothers, he felt that maybe he did deserve a portion of happiness for his own.
They left on the last train of the day; with well-wishes and hugs all around, Hannah promised that when Henry Lee came again to buy lumber, she would be sure to come with him.
Hiram took Henry Lee aside and told him solemnly, "If you ever are in need of a job, or if I can help you in any way, let me know. You seem like a man who makes his own way, but everyone needs a bit of help now and again."
The couple sat smiling comfortably together for the short ride back to Muskogee. In sharp contrast to the guilt and remorse of the morning, both were in high spirits and talking. The Oscars were definitely memorable and together they giggled over whether the parents themselves could even tell whose children were whose.
Hannah relaxed against Henry Lee's shoulder and he placed a delicate kiss in her hair. She felt it, relished it, but didn't acknowledge it. Henry Lee was eager, but felt no compunction to hurry. They would be back at the Williams Hotel in an hour or so, but more than that, they had their whole lives together before them. It was such a comforting thought that he relaxed completely, closed his eyes and fell into the kind of sleep usually reserved for the innocent.
Hannah felt his body sag against her. She felt a little bit smug, the man lying relaxed at her side belonged to her. She turned slightly to get a look at his face. Even in sleep, there was nothing boyish about him. His strong jaw, high cheekbones, and dark brows were still tough and manly. Inexplicably, she felt a surge of tenderness for him. Like her, he had never been a child, never known the carefree times of youth. But, unlike her, he hadn't buried his childhood in the rigid codes of adult life, he had simply brought to adult life the laughter and humor of childhood. At that moment, Hannah could not imagine a finer man anywhere. She laid her head against his chest and slept also.
Neemie Pathkiller had waited all day either in or around the Williams Hotel. By now he was angry and frustrated. His greatest fear was that they had realized the danger and simply left their belongings behind as a decoy.
He knew that they must have had contacts in town to do business, but he couldn't track them down. He did know that there was some connection with Charles Harjo, but exactly what the relationship was, he couldn't be sure. He was having Harjo watched in hopes that he would lead them to Watson, but the wily Indian was as cool as Christmas, and thus far had done nothing out of the ordinary.
He had just leaned against the side of the building, preparing to roll himself a cigarette, when he heard running feet coming down the alley.
A young Cherokee boy stopped in front of the hotel, looked the area over closely, and then hurried up to Neemie.
"A man told me to find you and say that they just got off the northbound Iron Mountain, and are coming this way."
Neemie stared at the boy for a minute with venom in his eyes, making sure that he kept what he knew to himself, then he tossed him a penny.
"Go to Marshal Quick's office at the courthouse. Tell him that the man at the Williams Hotel says 'soon.' "
He silently continued to roll his cigarette, but when he'd finished, his lips curved slightly. So, they had risked coming back. Now he had them.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah, her arm entwined with her husband's, made her way through the streets of Muskogee toward their personal haven, the Williams Hotel. Their short train nap had seemed to revitalize them both and they were bubbling with smiles and enthusiasm.
They had made a quick stop by the jeweler's, and the third finger of Hannah's left hand now sported the gleaming evidence of her marriage.
Henry Lee was on his most charming behavior, telling her an amusing story of a haberdasher who tried to sell his ribbons and ladies' hats by modeling them himself.
Hannah found herself paying more attention to the teller than the tale, as she gazed warmly at Henry Lee's sparkling eyes and flashing smile. Both were consciously trying not to think about the evening ahead. They were trying to be satisfied with the happiness they felt together at the moment, not wishing themselves into the future.
Hannah saw the men step out from the doorway of the hotel, but until they laid hands on Henry Lee, she hadn't known to be afraid.
Tom Quick's authoritative voice rang out: "Henry Lee Watson, by order of the U.S. Government and the Department of Justice for the Indian Territory, you're under arrest for trafficking in intoxicating beverages!"
Quick allowed the two younger depu
ties to grab Henry Lee and cuff him. He wanted to watch the young whiskey peddler's face as his future took a drastic turn for the worse.
"What are you doing?" Hannah cried out as Henry Lee was pushed up against a wall spread-eagle, and frisked for weapons. Finding nothing the deputies jerked his hands behind him and placed him in handcuffs.
"You are making a terrible mistake!" Hannah told the marshal. "My husband and I are from out of town, we are here on our honeymoon. He's not involved in anything illegal."
Tom Quick glared at the young woman, sneering. Hannah could see that he didn't believe her and turned to her husband to substantiate her assertion.
"Tell him, Henry Lee! This is some terrible mistake."
Henry Lee was facing away from her and did not look her way or say a word. He was numb with emotional pain. Don't look at me! his brain was screaming, but he held his peace. He had not protected her after all; she was going to see him arrested, maybe even be arrested herself. A woman like his Hannah should never know anything about jails or the people in them. He turned to look at the marshal. He knew the old man was Tom Quick. They had both been in the territory for a long time. Quick knew all about him, all about his business, and if he had decided to arrest him tonight, he obviously had enough evidence to send him to jail. He felt an ominous sense of doom.
"Let the woman go, Quick!" He tried to make it sound like an order, but he couldn't hide the plea in his voice. "She knows nothing about it."
Hannah heard his words and felt as if the ground she stood upon had been jerked away, but she fought it. Henry Lee needed her, and she would not—could not— allow herself to succumb to fear or panic, and she certainly would not be jumping to conclusions.
"Henry Lee could not be involved in anything unsavory, Marshal," she insisted. "He's a fine, upstanding man. You must have him mistaken for somebody else."
Tom Quick was amused. The girl was still fool enough to insist that she knew nothing, and Watson was practically begging to confess if he could buy the girl's freedom with it.
