Oklahoma's Gold

Copyright 2011 Kathryn Long

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are entirely the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental

Permission for use of cover image by Fotolia.com

To the memory of my parents,

Mary and John Schake

*

Your nurturing and love always gave me courage.

And a special thanks to my family…

Gary, Kristin, Sean, and Jennifer
You give me purpose

Prologue: The Vision

The quiet, rhythmic thumping of the tribal drum barely sounded beyond the clearing. Tapping it softly with a stick, he held it close to his chest, dancing in circles around the fire. The evening was cool, and though sparsely covered in a deerskin loincloth and moccasins, he felt warm. The necklace made of colored nuts, bones, stones, and seeds bounced back and forth against his bare chest.

He mumbled a chant, calling to the shilup, the outside shadow of his great grandfather. This ghost would frighten his enemy. He had been told this by the alikchi. Medicine man, as the whites call him. The alikchi had looked into the future and seen horrible things. He warned that only protection from an outside shadow would help. Great grandfather had been a powerful man, a great leader among his people. His spirit could surely help keep away these evil forces.

He continued to dance and tap the drum well into the morning hours, till his visions recognized the hazy white form of a man in the sky. He was sitting on top of a horse, both man and beast painted and adorned for battle. This alarmed him. The people would never fight unless they needed to protect their own.

The sky turned dark and thunder cracked to break the silence. He cried out to the shilup for protection, and then collapsed in a heap next to the fire.

"God is with us today to watch over and comfort these three young people, Jessica, Melissa, and David, as they suffer from the loss of their beloved parents …" The chaplain continued on to speak of life eternal, the remembrance of souls past and how they live on in all of us. He spoke of God’s will and the comforting peace of the hereafter. The words were quietly solemn, but given in a soothing, nurturing tone. They came to Jess, feeding her hungry soul, yet they couldn’t stop her tears. She was trying to show a face of strength for Deek and Missy. Lord knew how much they needed that from her, but she just couldn’t. Not yet.

As she walked up to the caskets, Jess suddenly realized how few people there were at their parents’ funeral. Of course they were the only family members present -- she, Deek and Missy. Uncle Fred lived in Oklahoma and was too old to travel. He was the only surviving relative on their dad’s side. Their mom’s relatives lived in California. Jess and the twins had never met any of them. Supposedly when Mom married Dad, her family disapproved and they cast her out of the family and the will.

Despite all the sacrifices and heartache, Mom never regretted making that choice, not once during all those years of marriage. The tears streamed down Jess' cheeks as she thought how
unfair life could be. At only forty-three years old, their lives had been stolen away in a quick second by a careless driver. They had been on their way to an anniversary dinner, celebrating their twenty-third year together. The coroner told Jess they couldn’t have suffered. The impact from the oncoming truck caused instant death. In her mind, the cruel twist was that the truck driver walked away without any damage.

Missy touched her arm, which tore Jess away from her troubled thoughts. "Jess?" Missy whispered. "I think the chaplain wants to talk to us now," she added while pointing toward the podium.

Jess drew a deep breath.
One step at a time
, she told herself.
That will get you through
this. One step at a time.

* * *

"Just what the heck are we going to do in some cow dung town in Oklahoma, huh?" Deek yelled.

"Don’t you swear at me, Deek Clinton," Jess scolded. To be honest, she felt just as angry and frustrated as he sounded, but she couldn’t let him know it. She was, after all, head of the family now.

"Awe, come on, Jess," he pleaded. "You know I’m right. This is a city in Ohio. We are city kids. What do we know about cattle? How are we gonna fit in? Putting on a pair of boots and a Stetson won’t change us any and you know it!" He was yelling again as the anger built. "Well, I’m not going!" he finished and stomped off to his room.

Jess sighed and then glanced over at Missy sitting curled up in the window seat. She hadn’t said a word, just stared out through the glass panes. That silence worried Jess more than Deek’s torrent of angry words.

"Missy?" she said so softly it came out like a whisper. "You okay?"

Missy just shrugged her shoulders and it seemed there would be no conversation, but then … "Do you think God had a reason for taking Mommy and Daddy?" The voice was strained.

It was painfully sad, Jess thought. Missy hadn’t called their parents "Mommy and Daddy" in years. Jess felt her heart tearing. This whole ordeal was getting no better. In a matter of one week they’d lost their parents and a place to live. No one was coming forward to offer them a home. Especially not Mom’s family, Jess thought bitterly. Only Dad’s Uncle Fred had called and said they should come to the ranch and live with him.

"The Clintons are a family," he had told her on the phone. "You all belong here now. It’s what your dad would have wanted." His words had been unsteady, as if he would cry at any moment. Jess had been so grateful.

Now, she had doubts. She kept thinking desperately there might be a better solution, but
mostly likely not. In the meantime Missy was challenging her with deep, philosophical questions. She sighed. Being a surrogate parent was an impossible job for a twenty-year-old. One who had to abruptly stop her college career. Yes. Impossible, but necessary.