Deep in the Heart of Trouble (24 page)

He narrowed his eyes. “Darius is clearly meddling. He’s only entering because he knows I’m racing for Sullivan Oil.”

“That was Anna’s opinion, too.”

“Has a wedding date for her been set?”

“August thirteenth.”

The tick in his jaw began to pulse. “Come on. Let’s get you home. For now, I’ve got to get through this race. But after that, I’m taking care of Anna. And Darius, too.”

Half an hour later, he stormed into the bicycle club. A large group of women sat in a circle, hemming blue-and-white sashes for the assistant parade marshals.

Their chattering came to an abrupt halt at his entry, but he couldn’t have cared less. He walked directly to Essie and snatched the sash she was stitching out of her hands.

“You’re coming with me,” he said.

“What’s happened?”

“I’m sick and tired of playing second fiddle to a bicycle race. I want to go to the soda shop, and I want to go right now.”

She pulled the sash back into her lap. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got more to do than I can possibly finish before Saturday arrives. I can no more go to—”

He reached down, pulled her to her feet, then leaned so close he could count her eyelashes. “Put that sash down, Esther Spreckelmeyer.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you bully me. I will not leave my members in their time of need.”

“You wanna make a bet?”

Shirley Gillespie stepped beside them and reached for the sash. “Go on, Essie. You’ve been working ten times harder than the rest of us. A walk to the soda shop will do you wonders.”

Essie tightened her hold on the sash. “I don’t want to go to the soda shop. I want to hem sashes.”

Shirley began to peel Essie’s fingers away from the fabric. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we, girls?”

A chorus of affirmations filled the room, urging Essie to go.

He could see it was a matter of pride now, and if nothing else, Essie had more than her fair share of pride.

He placed his lips next to her ear and whispered, “I want a kiss and I’m not waiting one more minute. So you can either come outside and give me one or I’ll take it right here in front of God and everybody.”

She immediately let go of the sash. “Good heavens.” She glanced at her members. “Ladies, I’m afraid I must—”

“Go on, honey,” Mrs. McCabe said. “You give that young man of yours a little attention.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Bunert said. “You’ll find your man has to roar like a lion and posture and establish himself as king of the jungle. But don’t let it trouble you none. We all know it’s the lioness who’s really in charge.”

“It’s the lioness who does all the work, you mean,” Mrs. Gulick said. “While the ‘king’ lounges around and waits for his supper to get hunted, caught, killed, and laid at his feet.”

Shirley gently pushed them toward the door. “Perhaps y’all had better get going.”

Tony glanced around. “Actually, I’m thinking about changing my mind and helping with the sashes. The conversation has become rather … enlightening.” He winked at Mrs. Zimpelman.

The women tittered. If they had been surprised to find out he was a Morgan, they’d been quick to come to his defense when townsfolk had a cross word to say about it. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn their loyalty, but he was sure glad he had it.

Even still, he didn’t linger. Clasping Essie’s hand, he pulled her out the door, down the steps and around to the side of the building lickety-split.

Pressing her against the wall, he covered her mouth with his.

Their kiss was long, wet, and pure heaven.

“I thought you were taking me to the soda shop,” she murmured against his lips.

“I am.” Holding her face with his hands, he kissed her again, running his thumbs along her jaw, her ears, her neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“ Mmmm.”

When his passion began to outpace his good sense, he buried his fingers into her hair and pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

“ I can only afford one soda,” he said. “You want a Coca-Cola or a Dr. Pepper?”

She smiled. “I like them both. It makes no difference to me.”

“Let’s go, then.” Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he headed toward town, looking forward to sharing a drink in one glass with two straws.

chapter TWENTY-TWO

TIPPING HIS hat, Tony stepped off the boardwalk, allowing two women to squeeze past. Town was always crowded, but with tomorrow’s parade and race, the streets, hotels, and restaurants teemed with people.

A wheeler darted between an oncoming carriage and a wagon. Drivers cursed and horses whinnied, but the rider gave them no heed. Turning south, he hugged the edge of the street, heading straight for Tony.

Tony jumped back onto the walkway and out of the way, accidentally jostling a farmer and his son.

“Excuse me.”

The man had no time to respond before he was caught up in the movement of the crowd. The bicyclist whizzed past.

Glancing over everyone’s heads, Tony spotted the Commercial Hotel another block up the road. In conjunction with City Hall, Essie’s club was hosting a reception for the oil companies participating in the race. He’d received a telegram from his mother. She, Anna, and Darius would be attending. Fortunately, Anna’s betrothed planned to stay behind in Beaumont.

Tony looked both ways, then loped across the street, avoiding horse droppings and dodging traffic. At the steps leading to the hotel, he paused to brush off the front and shoulders of his jacket. It would be the first time he’d seen his family since being disinherited.

“What’s the matter? Worried they won’t allow a field worker into the party?”

Recognizing his brother’s voice, Tony glanced sharply over his shoulder. Darius approached the steps, sporting a new goatee, carefully shaped and trimmed. His Prince Albert suit, however, fit a bit too loosely. Seemed he’d lost some weight. On his arm, Mother stood in her widow’s weeds. She frowned up at Darius before sending a sympathetic smile in Tony’s direction.

“Tony!” Anna gasped, drawing his attention. A vision in white and yellow, she wore the diametrical opposite of Mother’s black clothing.

He barely had a chance to take it all in before his sister launched herself into his arms. Managing to stay upright, he clasped her tightly while her feet dangled above the boardwalk.

“You have my word,” he whispered, “you’ll not marry Tubbs or anyone else unless you want to.”

“Oh, Tony,” she responded, her voice cracking.

He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I absolutely adore Mrs. Lockhart,” she said quietly in Tony’s ear. “Thank you for sending her.”

“Anna,” Mother hissed. “Would you please conduct yourself with at least some semblance of decorum. Get down. Tony, release her at once.”

He lowered her to the ground and brought his mother’s gloved hand to his lips, her familiar scent of lavender teasing his nose. “You are looking well, ma’am.”

His words contradicted his thoughts, though. The severe black gown accentuated her drawn appearance and sallow coloring. Even the powder she’d used could not disguise the circles beneath her eyes. Were they testament to her grief or to her distress over the events following Dad’s death?

“If you would, Dogbone,” Darius said, his tone sarcastic, “be a good boy and follow a few steps behind us. I don’t want anyone to think we’re together.”

“Enough of that, now,” Mother said.

Darius placed his hand under her elbow and guided her up the stairs.

Tony watched them pass, then looked at Anna.

She rolled her eyes, holding Tony back out of Darius’s hearing.

“He’s been an absolute beast. For a while now I’ve been wishing Dad had disinherited me, too. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with our charming brother day in and day out.”

For a split second, Essie thought Tony had grown a goatee overnight. Then she realized it wasn’t Tony at all, but his brother. She stood at the hotel’s parlor door, receiving guests with Mayor Whiteselle on her left and his wife on her right. A good many folks had arrived already, and the pleasant hum of conversation drifted about them.

She was so caught up in studying Darius, she failed to notice the person ahead of him in line until the woman spoke.

“How do you do?”

Essie jerked her attention to the task at hand. “Ma’am. Thank you so much for coming, and welcome to the Corsicana Oil & Gas Bicycle Invitational. I’m Essie Spreckelmeyer.”

“Miss Spreckelmeyer, at last. So nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Essie felt her face heat, silently cursing that blasted newspaper article. She never knew how to respond to references of this sort.

Saying “thank you” didn’t seem quite right, yet ignoring the comment wasn’t acceptable, either.

“Ma’am. And you are?”

“Leah Morgan. I’ve heard my Tony is courting you?”

Essie’s lips parted. This was Tony’s
mother
? Good heavens. She was clearly much younger than Essie’s parents, yet she looked so tired and downtrodden. Did she mourn for a man who never saw fit to love her back? Did she mourn for him the way Papa mourned for Mother?

She squeezed Mrs. Morgan’s hand. “Yes, ma’am. Tony and I are indeed courting. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I would very much like to find a few moments to visit later, if you are able. For now, however, please allow me to introduce you to our mayor’s wife.”

She made the introductions, noting that while Mrs. Morgan’s black silk gown was fashionable, the style was quite severe.

“Would you look at that?” Tony’s brother said, drawing Essie’s regard. “Punch served out of a bathtub.” He smiled at her. “How quaint.”

His eyes were the same coffee color as Tony’s. Same broad shoulders, same height, same hair, no dimple.

“You must be Mr. Morgan,” she said. “Welcome to the Corsicana Oil & Gas Bicycle Invitational. I’m Miss Spreckelmeyer.”

“Not
the
Miss Spreckelmeyer?” he asked, taking a step back and looking her up and down. “The one who is so well known for her participation in a bicycle, um,
competition
up north?”

He might look like Tony at first glance, but his skin had a distinctly yellowish tint to it, giving him an unhealthy appearance. And the warmth of his voice did not match the coolness of his eyes.

“Even more important, though,” he continued, “the Miss Spreckelmeyer whom my half brother has taken such keen notice of?”

She glanced down the line. Tony and a lovely young woman were conversing with the mayor. He must have felt her regard, though, because he looked over and winked.

It was all the fortification she needed. She turned back to Darius with a genuine smile. “You are quite correct, sir. I am indeed being courted by your brother.”

“I must confess,” he said, taking note of the exchange between her and Tony. “I’m a bit surprised. Tony’s interests have always run to girls fresh out of the schoolroom. Strange that he would suddenly acquire a taste for the more matronly type. Wouldn’t you say?”

Shock momentarily held her silent before she realized he was deliberately trying to discomfit her. She smiled to herself.

“Well, Mr. Morgan,” she said, leaning toward him conspiratorially, “you know what they say … there’s no accounting for taste.”

He lifted his brows.

“Please, might I introduce you to our mayor’s wife?”

She handed him over to Mrs. Whiteselle, then turned as Tony and the young girl beside him finished with the mayor.

Tony reached out to her. She placed her hand in his as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“You look stunning,” he said.

So do you,
she thought. He had on his dark alpaca jacket, but the silk four-in-hand tie with a paisley pattern was one she hadn’t seen before.

She tried to picture what changes his family might see in him after his summer away from home. His shoulders and chest had filled out from his work in the fields and their training in the clubhouse. The sun had added warmth to his skin, and though his trim waist wasn’t visible beneath his suit, it would be in evidence tomorrow at the race.

A spurt of pride rushed through her. This handsome, wonderful man was
her
beau.

“I’d like you to meet my sister, Anna,” he said.

The young woman smiled and Essie caught her breath. Flawless skin, large brown eyes, long, long lashes, and rich brown hair conspired together to form nothing short of perfection. And as if that weren’t enough, she’d accentuated it all with a fabulous hat heaped high with white trim, yellow posies, and blue ribbons.

“It is so very nice to meet you, Anna. Welcome to the Corsicana Oil & Gas Bicycle Invitational.”

“Thank you. Mrs. Lockhart had nothing but the nicest things to say about you.”

Essie glanced at Tony, then back at Anna. “You know Mrs.

Lockhart?”

“Oh my, yes. We are fast friends. Has she ever loaned you any of her books?”

Frowning, Essie lowered her voice. “Oh dear. I hope she hasn’t been foisting those awful things off on you. They are a bit frivolous and not a little shocking.”

“Do you think so? I hadn’t really noticed. What do you think, Tony?”

He shrugged. “
Thorns and Orange Blossoms
wasn’t so bad.”

Essie stared at him, aghast. But before she could ask why in the world
he
had read Mrs. Lockhart’s books, the next person in line stepped up.

“So then the mortician says, ‘Yes sir, sheriff. It was a grave undertaking.’ ” Laughing, the mayor looked around at the men in their circle. “Get it? Grave undertaking?”

Tony smiled, beginning to see why the man was so well liked.

Judge Spreckelmeyer, the sheriff, and a fella by the name of Mudge from Alamo Oil chuckled.

A burst of appreciative male laughter from across the hotel’s parlor drew their attention.

“Appears your sister is the belle of the Welcome Reception,” the judge said, clapping Tony on the shoulder.

Taking a sip of punch, Tony looked over the rim of his cup to where Anna sat surrounded by men. A couple of wheelers from some of the smaller oil companies, along with Preacher Wortham and Deputy Howard, all vied for her attention.

“Their efforts are doomed to failure, I’m afraid,” Darius said, joining them.

“Oh?” Spreckelmeyer said, stepping back to make room for him.

“And why is that?”

“She’s betrothed.”

“Betrothed?” Dunn asked. Tony could see the sheriff mentally counting up the three short months since his father’s death.

“Yes. To Norris Tubbs.”

“Norris Tubbs!” Spreckelmeyer exclaimed. “Of the H&TC?”

“The very same.”

“But he’s my age.”

Darius pulled on his cuffs. “So he is.”

The sheriff, the judge, and the mayor exchanged glances, then looked at Tony, but before he could say anything, Harley tugged on his coat.

“Hey, Mr. Tony.”

“Well, howdy there, Harley. Where did you come from?”

“Me and some o’ the boys have been helpin’ Miss Essie lug ice and such. I was telling ’em about what happened that night when Bri was bit and wanted to show ’em your knife. Do ya mind?”

“Of course not.” He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to the boy, watching as he raced over to a small group of schoolmates. The gangly youths in their Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes pulled at their collars and scratched their starch-covered chests while hovering near the refreshment table.

“Ah, looks like Finch has finally made it,” Darius said.

Tony turned his attention to the entryway. Essie excused herself from the group she was attending and welcomed the newcomer. Finch made a show of bowing deeply and bringing her hand to his lips.

He didn’t look like a man who was grieving over the loss of his second wife. He held Essie’s hand too long, no matter how gracefully she tried to extract it, and then bent close, whispering something before pulling back, clearly amused by his own words.

Essie freed her hand and unobtrusively wiped it against her skirt.

She scanned the room, smiled at Tony, then proceeded to escort Finch toward the group of men. His suit was black with lace at his cuffs, accented by an elaborately tied ascot and patent leather bals.

He always had been a bit of a dandy.

“Gentlemen,” Essie said, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Finch Morgan. Blake Morgan was his uncle.” She introduced her father, the sheriff, the mayor, and Mr. Mudge from Alamo Oil. “And you, of course, know these two.”