Oklahoma's Gold (24 page)

"What?" Jess looked at him curiously.

"That's where we almost bought the farm, as they say," he answered.

Jess didn't catch on for a second or so, but suddenly her face lit up. "Cattleman T!" she exclaimed.

"Yep. We came down this road." Daniel traced a finger along one part of the mountain. "Hardly seems worth writing down though. Nothing much out there."

"I agree," Emma said. "What could Martha ever mean by writin' them down? Think she made a mistake, been in a hurry and got numbers mixed up?"

"Possibly," Jess said. "But if she did get it right, there has to be a reason. Any historical significance to these mountains?" she suggested.

Daniel shook his head. "Not really. Just a few reports about Indian drawings on the walls of some caves that explorers found up there. Seems the drawings date back to the early twentieth century. Not very old by Indian standards."

"Still, there has to be some connection," Jess insisted. "Maybe we should go explore these caves ourselves."

"I think we stick to our original plan and first visit Miss Jessup. We can always ask her about the mountains and caves," Daniel argued.

This time Jess didn't disagree. "Okay, then. Let's get started." She looked back at Emma. "Are you coming with us?"

"I think I'd better. You two don't know Cordelia Jessup. She can be a cantankerous, old biddy when she's got a mind to it," Emma declared and walked out the door. "No one better than me to handle her kind."

Jess and Daniel smiled at each other. Cantankerous? Definitely no one better! They followed Emma out the door and into the warm, rosewood scented Oklahoma evening.

Chapter 37

They had reached the steps to the library entrance when Daniel announced his plan. "You two go on in without me. I have other business that needs attention."

Emma and Jess looked surprised. "Now what could be more important than this?" the older woman asked.

"I'm gonna try and stir things up with Lucas," Daniel explained. "Maybe if I put a little pressure on, act like I know enough, he might crack."

"Fat chance," Emma responded. "That man has cold, ice water runnin' through his veins. Won't get nothin' out of him."

"Maybe so. But my questioning him just might push him to do something foolish. You know. Crash and burn from moving too fast to cover up his tracks."

Emma nodded. "We'll meet you back at the truck, say in about an hour?"

The women watched Daniel head off toward Martin Realty before they walked inside the library. It was quieter than usual, no patrons or other employees except Miss Jessup, which was better for them. They could converse without much interruption.             

Cordelia stood at the circulation desk, at least that's what she called it even though there were no other desks to be seen. The library was actually the former smithy shop. The town smithy gradually lost business over the past decades as ranchers began to do their own horseshoeing. Of course, it didn't help when the 1900's progressed into more modern transportation.

The building remained vacant for several years, when suddenly the committee for educational and cultural reform determined that the town needed a public library. So, in nineteen fifty-two the former Bill's Blacksmith Shop became Chickasha Library. Miss Cordelia Jessup has always been its head librarian. Of course, she took much pride in that fact and ran a tight ship, so to speak. Neat and tidy were her operative words. If anyone working for her didn't like it, they were gone and soon replaced.

Indeed, the turnover rate of employees was rather high, but people didn't seem to mind. They liked the efficiency of Miss Jessup and knew she could find for them whatever information they needed. Of course if you spoke with any of her former help, they might paint a different picture. But that didn't seem to matter. She'd become a permanent fixture in Chickasha. Like anything else that's been around, that would seem odd if it were suddenly removed, Cordelia Jessup fit properly into that category.

She glanced up upon hearing the door open and immediately folded her hands in front of her, resting them on the desk all business-like. Though she recognized Emma, the formality in her voice was still evident. It was proper procedure, after all. "Good evening, ladies. How may I help you?"

"Hello, Cordelia," Emma greeted with a smile and a handshake. "You've met Fred's niece, Jessica Clinton?" She nodded toward Jess, and the librarian smiled at the young woman.

"I hope you've fully recovered from the ugly confrontation with that drunken Indian." She wrinkled her nose as she spoke. Jess looked embarrassed and just nodded.

"A shame about his passin'," Emma commented as if to remind her old friend that she was being somewhat insensitive, speaking ill of the dead.

Cordelia took the hint and blushed. "Oh, of course, how crass of me," she apologized, and then quickly changed the subject. "Now, was there something you needed?"

Emma went on to explain the information they were looking for, but it was soon evident that Cordelia's help would be minimal. Only a handful of people, who were at least old enough in the forties to know what was going on, still lived in Chickasha. Three of them were in an old folk’s retirement home and missing most of their mental capacity, as Cordelia put it. She herself made up the fourth. One more lived around here and seemed alert-minded enough so that in Cordelia's opinion she could provide information.

"But of course she is Indian and very leery of anyone who is not. I don't know why. Yet, that's what I keep hearing from others," she explained.

Emma went on to question Cordelia about her recollection of the past, asking her to recall anything that might connect to John Wallace, but nothing seemed concrete.

"Your granddaddy was a powerful man around these parts and a good many people respected him. So any rumors implying unethical goings-on were quickly squelched," she recalled. "Although, there was one particular story that seemed hard to put down, even by his strongest supporters."

Jess and Emma leaned forward; their faces intently focused on Cordelia's latest account. She told it without any dramatizing, just the facts, so they could assess the story for themselves objectively, see if it had any merit. Still, it was no less startling to hear an accusation so severe and gruesome. Anyone might doubt its credibility.

"To hear the Indians tell it, John Wallace was a madman who held no limits to his behavior. His determination to acquire land, any land, had finally led his actions over the line of reasonable. Many speculate he had something to do with several incidents covering the years from nineteen forty-five to nineteen forty-seven. One was the beatings, or floggings as some called them, in nineteen forty-seven, of three Indians out by the Washita River. And it was a mystery gone unsolved.

"Supposedly, three men covered their faces with black kerchiefs to hide their identity. They roped and hog-tied the young Indian men, dragged them across the plain with their horses to the river, and then beat them almost to death. Now, some Indians believed your granddaddy was to blame."

"But why?" Emma asked.

"Well, later in April of nineteen forty-seven, John Wallace bought large parcels of land, dirt cheap from several Indian farmers, including land belonging to the three who were beaten. Of course, some white folks say he was just doing them a favor; that most of the land wasn't worth much.  But really, most Indians had been scared for quite some time, especially after the beatings, so they wanted to move on.

"Only his closest friends believed John's side of the story. Many harbored some doubt. And the Indians began their own form of protest by badmouthing Wallace and refusing to do business with him or any of his friends. In fact, the only one they trusted was your daddy, Emma. He was their only true white friend, to hear them tell it," Cordelia added with a firm nod of her head.

"Always spoke from the heart, your daddy. Yessir. One of the best. It sure broke him apart, though, when your mama left." The words were out before she had time to think. Cordelia immediately realized she'd stuck her foot in her mouth again.

"I'm so sorry, Emma! I shouldn't have." She covered her mouth, looking totally dismayed.

"It's okay, Cordie," Emma patted her friend's hand. "I know you meant well. Honestly, it doesn't hurt as much anymore. I think I now understand more about why she left and all," she explained. "I'm okay. Really."

"Oh, Emma," Cordelia exclaimed. "You are a true friend, and so good to me. I wish I could help you more, but that's really all I know."

"No, no. You've been a great help. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if this might be the story that breaks it all wide open. And after I talk to this Indian woman, I'll probably know all I need to know," Emma assured her.

Cordelia looked worried. "What makes you so certain she'll even talk, Emma?"

Emma sat up straight and proud. "Why because I'm Emmit Thomas' daughter. That's why she'll talk."

Cordelia smiled and nodded. "I do believe she will."

Emma and Jess thanked Cordelia once more, and got up to leave. They'd gotten more than they bargained for. Plenty to go on, but plenty left to do. Their minds were reeling with all sorts of thoughts.

Certainly John Wallace had been a complicated man. He had strong friends as well as strong enemies. It seemed likely to Emma and Jess that John was capable of devious actions. But this severe? That was a little too much to swallow. By capitalizing on another's misfortune, snatching up the opportunity to buy the land cheap from those desperate enough to sell, well that was believable.

 Of course, it didn't help his case any that some of the land in question proved to be the best oil producing territory in Oklahoma history. However, it didn't mean he beat those Indians. That had to be some other villain. Someone far worse than John Wallace. Right? At least that's what Emma secretly was hoping. She could accept shady land dealings, but not having one of her ancestors guilty of practically flogging men to death.

"That's one pill too hard to swallow," she mumbled as they walked out the door.

"What was that, Miss Emma?" Jess inquired.

"Just that we best go talk to that woman and hope to clear this up," Emma spoke loud and firm. "Now, where's Daniel?"

They'd reached the truck. It had been an hour, but he was nowhere in sight. After several minutes, they decided to take a walk toward the realty building. Just as they stepped up on the sidewalk, Daniel came around the corner. He practically mowed them down, walking so fast.

"Criminy sakes! Slow yourself down there, Daniel. You're plum out of breath." Emma lectured him as she extended her arm and placed her hand on the man's chest to stop him in his tracks.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am. I was just so caught up thinking on what just happened," Daniel apologized.

"Well, we've got a lot to tell you, too. Don't we, Miss Emma?" Jess said all excited.

"Okay, okay. You first," Daniel offered graciously.

Emma then proceeded to tell him all about the floggings, John Wallace's possible involvement, and the old Indian woman.