Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma

JANICE HANNA

Summerside Press™

Minneapolis 55337

www.summersidepress.com

Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma

© 2012 by Janice Hanna

ISBN 978-1-60936-593-6

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.

Cover design by Garborg Design Works |
www.garborgdesign.com

Cover photo of model and sky © Susan Fox / Trevillion Images

Cover photo of daisies by iStock

Back cover photo and mountain photo on
page 7
courtesy Oklahoma

      Tourism and Recreation Department

Photo on spine by Bigstock

Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group |
www.mullerhaus.net

Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

Printed in USA.

Dedicated to the memory of my uncle, Gene Wyatt.

Special thanks to Ellen Doughten and the many other Facebook friends who helped me come up with hooligan-like pranks to include in this story. I have to wonder what you were like as kids!

And to William and Jacob. “Snips and snails and puppy dog tails” doesn’t even come close.

R
UMOR HAS IT THAT
D
AISY
, O
KLAHOMA
—
LOCATED IN
A
TOKA
County, just off of Highway 43—was named after a local girl named Daisy Beck. It was once a thriving community boasting a general store, a school, a post office, and other places of business.

Today, little remains of this once-upon-a-time town. If you blink when you drive by, you might miss it. However, the land around Daisy is as beautiful as ever. I know this from personal experience, having been through the area this past year. Rolling hills capture the imagination, and the trees are so green you might think they were painted onto the landscape with an artist’s brush. On second thought, they were! The Lord Himself surely blessed this little patch of ground with an extra splash of beauty.

As I set out to write this whimsical tale, the melody to “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do” became my theme song. I couldn’t help but use it in the story.

I pray you enjoy your trip to Daisy as much as I did. May you see the spirit of the people of Oklahoma on each page, and may the antics of the children remind you of your carefree childhood days.

Janice Hanna

T
IPS FOR
D
EALING WITH
U
NRULY
Y
OUNG
’
UNS
—
The Bible commands strict discipline when it comes to the raising of children. With all the hooligans wreaking havoc in our little town, we have no choice but to come down on them with a firm hand. “Spare the rod, spoil the child”—that’s my motto. Not everyone takes such a strong stance when it comes to Daisy’s children, of course. I know I’m often alone in my principles, especially where the sheriff is concerned. ’Course, he’s got his hands full with those two rapscallion boys of his. But, by gum, I plan to rid this town of childish nonsense if it’s the last thing I do. And if it means tanning a few hides along the way, well, so be it.

—Molly Harris, Daisy Resident and Chairwoman of the “Fresh as a Daisy” Committee

Daisy, Oklahoma, Early September, 1912

The Atoka County jail housed no prisoners that Monday morning unless one counted the local sheriff. After the verbal thrashing he’d just received from Molly Harris, Gene Wyatt felt like hiding out in one of the cells for the rest of the day.

He pulled off his Stetson and hurled it at the hat rack. “Crazy busybody. Who does she think she is, anyway?”

For a moment, he wondered what it would feel like to toss the town’s crankiest senior citizen into an empty cell and throw away the key. Wouldn’t that make a great article for the
Atoka County Register?
He could almost picture the headline now: L
OCAL
W
OMAN
R
ETHINKS
H
ER
M
EDDLING
W
AYS FROM
B
EHIND
B
ARS
. Surely the other residents of Daisy would back him up.

On the other hand, they might turn on him. Stranger things had happened of late. Folks who’d once claimed to be his friends had turned cold shoulders to him after hearing Molly’s repeated tirades about his boys. Many seemed to share her concerns.

Releasing a slow breath, Gene tried to calm down. Unfortunately, Molly’s words weren’t easy to shake off. They’d stung, worse than he cared to admit, but what could he do? His hands were already too full, what with raising the boys alone.

He made his way to his dreary office, eased his way into the chair behind his messy desk, and began to thumb through the mail, which he’d just fetched from the postmaster. Minutes later, he still found himself mulling over the elderly woman’s criticism of his two sons. Sure, William and Jacob were a handful—there was no denying that—but did she really have to call them
hooligans?
They were only eight and ten, after all. Far too young to be accused of such nonsense. And that comment about how they might end up serving time was way out of line.

He paused. The way things were headed, they could very well end up going down the wrong road. If only they still had a mother to guide them, then maybe…

No, he wouldn’t think like that. The two years since Brenda’s death had been dreadful, but the pain of losing her lessened more with each passing day. No point in resurrecting it. The boys would be fine. He would see to it. In the meantime, he had work to do—plenty of it.

A familiar voice rang out from the front office, interrupting his thoughts.

“Son, are you here?”

He recognized his mother’s voice at once. Gene did his best to shake off his concerns before facing her. No point in letting her know how he felt about Molly’s accusations.

“I’m here,” he managed.

His mother entered his office, the somber look on her face a direct contradiction to the cheerful yellow dress and matching flower-laden hat. “I guess you heard from Molly. She’s wound up tighter than your grandfather’s clock.”

Gene did his best not to sigh aloud. “I think everyone in town heard her tirade. I wish she would keep her thoughts to herself. At the very least, she needs to learn to control her volume so as not to raise the dead.”

“She’s plenty worked up, that’s sure and certain.” His mother removed her fashionable hat, which left her upswept hair a bit disheveled. She pressed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and the crinkles around her soft blue eyes deepened. “I’ve seen her frazzled before, but not like this.”

Gene rested against the edge of his desk. “Not sure what to say in my own defense.”

“No need to say anything. She’s just a bitter old woman who loves to complain. But she does have a point about some of the boys—not just William and Jacob, but the boys from the orphanage too. She counts them all as one since they’re comrades and coconspirators in mischief.”

“I understand that. I really do.” He felt his anger growing as Molly’s words flitted through his mind. “But to call them rabble-rousers? Sounds like something she read in one of those ridiculous dime novels. And to say the boys are going to destroy the town if someone doesn’t take action—what sort of talk is that? Does she have to be so melodramatic?”

“Slight exaggeration, but not by much.” His mother gave him a thoughtful look. “William and Jacob and the other boys
have
been up to tricks again.” She placed her hat on his desk then took to fussing with her hair once again.

“I know, I know.” He thumbed through several papers on his desk, hoping she would change the direction of this conversation instead of elaborating. Surely she knew how awkward this was for him.