Morning Glory (8 page)

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"

"Cecil," Tucker acknowledged the man. "Would you
like something to drink?"

"No, I'll get on back over to the rig."

"Why don't you eat with us? There's plenty. It'll be
ready in a few minutes." Tucker looked right at Clara,
who was frowning.

"Much obliged. I'd love a home-cooked meal. I'll go
tell those guys that they're hired and put them to work,
then come right back. Got time to do that?"

"I figure it'll be fifteen minutes until the hot rolls are
done" Tucker grinned. If Clara could invite a viper like
Olivia to give him grief over lunch, then he'd invite
Cecil as well as Briar. She could have a double portion
of evil oil well riffraff.

"Hot homemade bread! I'll be back in ten minutes,"
Cecil bailed off the porch and took off in a jog.

Olivia sipped lemonade and congratulated herself on
her good fortune. Three unattached men. Granted,
Tucker was the big fish. Briar was next in line since he
had enough power to hire and fire men. Then the new
fellow, Cecil; the best looking one. Oh, yes, she had fallen into a pile of soft rose petals when she turned her
bicycle up the Anderson lane.

Tucker had not been exaggerating when he said his
cleaning skills left something to be desired. Although
the dining room could have been as lovely as Clara's, it
lacked a woman's touch. Curtains had been removed
from the windows and harsh summer light streamed
through wide windows. The cushions in the chairs
needed airing and fluffing. Though clean, the napkins
needed pressing. Wallpaper crinkled in the corners and
around the wide mop boards. At one time, the oak hardwood floors had probably been as shiny as Clara's, but
now they were dull and scratched. Newspapers were
stacked at least a foot high in three corners and Briar
could have drawn up plans for a new rig site in the dust
on the buffet.