Oklahoma's Gold (26 page)

Two Turtles smiled; a newfound respect grew for the older, white woman. Then her look became quite serious as she told Emma all she could remember. "Your grandfather was a hard man. As we saw it, he loved money and little else." She paused a moment to allow her listeners time to digest the words, though it was only Emma she was concerned for. After all, strong or not, this was her own blood. "It would explain what he did, you see."

Emma just stared and then motioned her to continue because she needed to know. Because it ate at her, not knowing. No matter how terrible the truth might be.

"In the forties I grew from my teens to early twenties. Full of life and bright promise of the future. I was a happy child." Two Turtles smiled, dreamy-eyed as she recalled the memory. However, she then changed, her face twisted in pain. "But in nineteen forty-seven my world darkened." She looked straight at Emma, willing her to feel some of this pain, to share it, to accept it, then she continued. "That was the year my older brother disappeared. He was only twenty-six, but wise. And very bright. He would teach some of the younger children things he had learned when away at school, the University of Oklahoma, where he studied law. He taught me so much." Her eyes watered as she spoke fondly of her brother.

"And he had such energy. When others among us got so discouraged because of the way things were sometimes, he would talk and talk till our spirits became strong again. Your father, Miss Thomas, was an idol to my brother. He is the reason Thomas—that was my brother's Christian name and what he insisted we call him—decided to study law.

"When he came back from school the summer of forty-six, he would often work alongside Mister Thomas, fighting whatever battles needed to be fought with the law. Together, they helped our people to get the things we deserved. Unfortunately though, often they were the opposing forces to your grandfather. And so it was understandable how John Wallace and my brother became fierce enemies. Every time Wallace made one of his so-called land deals, Thomas would be there, dogging him with questions about his unethical actions.

"You see, many among us knew when John Wallace wanted land, he got it. Whether you wanted to sell or not didn't matter. You understand?" Two Turtles now looked at Emma with such extreme intensity that the listener could not answer. Nonetheless, the storyteller went on.

"It was in the spring of forty-seven, early March, I think. My brother and I had just gotten back from a trip to Lawton. He had purchased a train ticket. It would take him north to Chicago. A job offer in a law firm was too good to pass up. His plan was to work there five years and save money. Then he would come home, set up his own practice here. He was to leave in April on that train." She turned to each of her visitors, preparing them for what she was about to claim aloud.

"He left all right, but I don't think he got on that train."

Everyone stood there, an awkward silence prevailed. Two Turtles was implying something no one wanted to admit. Still, the uncertainty was too much to leave alone.

Emma needed to know what she meant. "You mean he left town some other way?"

Two Turtles sighed, then began once more. "In late March three Indian men were dragged and flogged, then left by the river. Their attackers were never identified. A week later, John Wallace bought several parcels of land, dirt cheap, from many Indians, including land belonging to the three who were beaten. Now, I must tell you that many ugly rumors began to fly. But they were just rumors, never proven. One story included your grandfather." She struggled to continue, but Emma wouldn't let go.

"Please. I need to know everything."

"They said John Wallace, Paul Fenton, and Louis Centle were the masked attackers at Washita River. They said John bullied them so they would sell their land."

Two Turtles almost seemed apologetic to Emma, as if conveying her belief that no one should have to face such truth.

"Many were angered," she continued. "But no one more than my brother, Thomas. Then …" Her lips trembled as she finished. "A week later on April fifth, my brother was gone. My family said he must have gotten on that train without saying a word to anyone. That it must have been too painful to say goodbye. But I knew in here." She pounded her chest with her fist. "I knew he did not get on that train, did not go to Chicago. I just knew. And the knowing was too much. I remember I ran to my room crying. My family thought it was because he didn't say goodbye. But I knew." She stopped then and wept softly.

Still, Emma could not let it go unsaid. "So, did you hear from him later?" she asked with false hope.

Two Turtles shook her head. "No. Weeks went by. More and more, I saw the looks of worry on my family's faces. Then I knew they thought what I felt in my heart." Her words came slowly, cautiously. "That something bad, something evil had happened to my brother."

Though she was expecting something like this, it still struck Emma with such a force; she struggled against the pain and guilt. Guilt, she realized, for something she hadn't even done. That John Wallace may not have done. "Did you ever find, well you know." The question would not complete itself, but it didn't matter.

Two Turtles shook her head once more. "As I said. We never saw my brother again. He disappeared." With those words she sat back in the rocker, rested her hands once more on her rifle, and said no more. The message was clear to her visitors. She was done talking.

Even though Emma still had many questions, Daniel gently took hold of her arm and led her back to the truck. "Thank you for all your help, Two Turtles. You are very generous." As they reached the vehicle, Daniel noticed a Ford Ranger near the backside of the house. It was filled with furniture and blankets.

"Are you planning a trip?" he asked.

Her answer was short and to the point. "Going to stay with my sick daughter in Wichita. Leaving late tonight. Don't know when I'll be back though."

Daniel glanced curiously at Emma. She had this smug know-it-all look on her face. He chuckled, climbed up into the driver's seat, and then closed his door. "Have a good trip, ma'am."

They were driving more slowly now, back toward the road. The storm, fortunately, had chosen to pass them over. It was minutes before anyone spoke.

"I wonder if anyone ever bothered to track Thomas down?" Jess asked, just to break the silence.

"I don't think the family would have because it was easier just to believe he was alive and well in Chicago," Daniel speculated.

"Odd though, isn't it?" Emma finally spoke. Daniel and Jess looked at her, waiting. "You know. That my mother ended up in Chicago?"

"Yeah. Strange coincidence maybe." Daniel wouldn't put anymore into it than that. No use letting their imaginations get the better of them. More important to focus on the real issue, he argued to himself. "So, I wonder what really did happen to Thomas?"

Of course, no one had any answers. And no one spoke. Not for the rest of the trip home. It was overwhelming; all they had learned this evening. More than they could deal with and sort out. Hopefully, they had time. At least before anything else happened.

Chapter 38

"I told you to scare them off. Not try to kill them!" Lucas snarled over the phone. "You're damned lucky your plan screwed up."

"Yeah, well. I still say it could have worked."

"Just stick to our little agenda from now on. Okay?" Lucas ordered. "Soon enough we're all gonna be rich, and then you won't have to worry about this hick town and its people."

"They aren't all that bad. I mean, a few are good people."

"Now, don't you start goin' soft on me! We're too close to have things start fallin' apart."

"I'm okay, really. Right there with you, Lucas."

"That's better." His voice softened somewhat and became encouraging. "Reason why I called was to see if you thought we could maybe hurry things along a little. You know we need that report, because N. Rep. has been holdin' back the rest of the start-up money until they get the rest of what we promised."

"Yeah, I remember you sayin' that. I'm goin' over to Tulsa this afternoon. Be back tomorrow with it. That soon enough?"

"Guess it will have to do," Lucas sighed. "Talk to you tomorrow then."

Once off the phone, he sat quiet and still for a moment, there at his desk. His secretary, Betty, had gone to lunch. He got up, walked over to the door and glanced out into the reception area to make sure. Once satisfied, he shut and locked the door. Getting out a key he opened the bottom drawer and brought out its valued contents.

His fingers fanned through the book of traveler’s checks as he counted up the zeros. So much money. And there'd be more to come. Then he focused attention on the deed and the plane ticket. His symbols of a new life, of freedom.

Finally, underneath these he placed the other papers in his hands. He laughed aloud, almost gleefully, as he considered how clever he'd been. The requisition orders looked so genuine. He'd already sent a copy of them to N. Rep. Those Yankees. They acted so smug, so superior. Well, he'd show them who was smart. Lucas then carefully placed everything back in the drawer and locked up. Couldn't be too careful now. He'd already messed up once.

He scowled as he recalled Daniel's surprise visit. Lucas had been looking at his papers and hurriedly had put them in the top drawer when Daniel barged into his office. That Indian was certainly one to keep an eye on. But murder? Lucas shuddered to think of the antics his one partner had pulled. It could have gone horribly bad, but he didn't need to dwell on it. What's done is done. Impulsively, he got up and grabbed his jacket. Might as well get some lunch, he decided, and went out the door.

Chapter 39

Emma sat in the uncomfortable chair, shifting her hips from one side to the other, every so often. It didn't help much. She had just finished reading a chapter aloud from one of the books to Fred. With dogged determination she'd come every day to spend time with her dear friend. For the past two weeks—reading, playing music, telling stories. Anything she did met with little reaction. What had it been? Nearly three months since the beating?  Some days it seemed longer to Emma, some, shorter.

Once, she had been feeling so frustrated that she started crying aloud. Big huge sobs, they were. That time, Fred responded by squeezing the hand he was holding. Hers. That was a week ago and it gave newfound encouragement to Emma. So, here she was. Still trying. If only he'd open his eyes once, mumble anything. At least they'd been able to take him off the respirator. Breathing on his own was a huge accomplishment, wasn't it? She took whatever she could get. Just enough to keep her going. If there was anything the past few weeks had taught her, it was that she loved Fred Clinton. That affirmation made her strong. And if God was willing to give her another chance, give Fred another chance, she already decided what to do. Emma felt justified. She'd sacrificed her personal happiness and now was her time. Glancing over at the silent, still form of Fred, Emma just prayed there would be that chance.

She settled back in the chair and closed her eyes. Might as well rest a bit. The past few days had taken its toll on her. More tired than she could remember being in a long while. With the hospital room door closed, it was so quiet, almost like a vacuum. This made it easy to fall asleep. Though it seemed like hours, Emma's rest could only have been minutes. She jerked and sat up straight, eyes wide open. Not certain of why the sudden call to consciousness, Emma looked around the room searching for an answer. Her eyes quickly flew to Fred, but it was her ears that alerted Emma. He was crying. Yes. Crying. Emma quickly rose and ran to his bedside, grabbed hold of his hand.