Deep in the Heart of Trouble

  “How long have you known?”

  “I was told a couple of days ago,” he said, lowering his hands.

  “By whom?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She cringed. If Ewing had heard it from some busybody, then no telling how many others were whispering behind their hands about Essie Spreckelmeyer being courted, once again, for all the wrong reasons. “Who all knows?”

  “I think only me and the person who told me.”

  “But I thought you heard it through the gossip mill?”

  “I never said that. I was given the information in the strictest of confidences from an outsider. You have no idea how much I have struggled with whether or not I was at liberty to tell you.”

  “And no one else knows?”

  “If they do, I’ve not heard a word. And I feel sure I would have. This would be way too juicy a piece of meat not to have every jaw in town gnawing on it.”

  She nodded, dreading the time when Tony’s identity was eventually discovered. Not only would she be at the center of the townsfolk’s speculations, but now that she had time to consider it, she realized they would not take kindly to being duped. Particularly not by a Morgan.

  Ewing looked out the window. “I wonder if he had some nefarious reason for using a false name.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Well, a fella doesn’t hide his identity for good reasons, that’s for sure.”

  She frowned, then rose to her feet. “You did the right thing, Ewing. It would have been horrible if I’d been the last to find out.”

  “That’s what I finally decided, too,” he said, standing. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Tell Papa.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?”

  “No, I think it’s best if I do it myself.” She reached out with her hand. Ewing slipped his around it.

  “Thank you,” she said, squeezing.

  “You all right?”

  Nodding, she bit her lower lip. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me.”

  “I know.”

  Hand-in-hand, they walked to the door.

  He retrieved his hat. “Well, thanks for the cookie. And remember, I am your preacher. If you ever need a shoulder …”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “If I ever need a shoulder, I think I’ll come visit my friend Ewing, not Preacher Wortham. That is, if it’s all right with you?”

  “You know it is.”

  Closing the door behind him, Essie swallowed the hurt pushing against her. She would save that for later. Right now she needed to tell Papa.

  Essie knocked on the door of her father’s study, then poked her head inside. “Can I come in?”

  He waved her in without bothering to look up from the paper he was writing on. His gray hair looked as if it had been plowed into distinct rows. Even as the thought occurred to her, he ran his fingers through it again, reinforcing the furrows.

  His jacket hung on the back of his chair. His four-in-hand tie lay in a puddle on the corner of his desk. The cuffs of his white shirt were smudged with ink.

  She seated herself in one of the wing chairs across from him. After a few minutes, he put his pen in its holder and blotted the page. “Don’t you have bicycle training tonight?” he asked, still skimming whatever it was he’d written.

  “Yes, but I needed to talk with you first.”

  “Well, if you plan on hounding me again about Tony’s position as tool pusher, I’m not up to it,” he said, reaching for his pen and dipping it in the ink well.

  “No. It isn’t that.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I’ve just received some rather disturbing news.”

  He scribbled something on the bottom of the paper. “Go ahead.”

  “Tony Bryant is actually Tony Morgan, Blake Morgan’s son.”

  Papa stopped writing mid-sentence and looked up. Being a judge, he was a master at disguising his feelings. But she knew him well and saw the surprise light his eyes before he quickly shuttered it.

  “How did you find out?” he asked, returning the pen to its holder.

  “Ewing told me.”

  “How did Ewing find out?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me.”

  Papa leaned back, the brown leather upholstery creaking. “Who else knows?”

  “I don’t think anyone, yet.”

  “Well, somebody does or else Ewing wouldn’t have found out.”

  “He said it was an outsider who asked him to keep the information private.” She hesitated. “Perhaps it was Mr. Baker? I saw them talking out in the yard that night they were over for dinner.”

  “Isn’t exactly reassuring to find out our preacher can’t keep his mouth shut, is it?”

  Essie stiffened. “He was wanting to protect me. Surely in this case, breaking a confidence was the lesser of two evils. And why are we talking about Ewing when we should be talking about Tony and what to do about this?”

  Papa rubbed his mouth. “I’m not planning on doing anything about it.”

  “What?”

  “I like him. I always have. He’s a hard worker. He’s knowledgeable. He’s innovative. And he had the good sense to court you.”

  She threaded her fingers together. “Papa. Surely you can read between the lines here. He isn’t courting me because he has feelings for me. He’s courting me to worm his way into our company.”

  “I don’t think so, Essie. And it disturbs me that you do.”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. What other possible motivation could he have for pretending to be someone he’s not?”

  “I’m not sure he sees it as pretending, exactly.”

  She raised a brow.

  “His father disinherited him. Completely. Didn’t give him so much as a penny. Left just enough for his wife and daughter to get by on and gave the rest to his first son.”

  “Oh, Papa. That can’t be true. Mr. Morgan had plenty of money to spread around. It doesn’t make sense for him to disinherit anyone, especially not his own son.”

  “All the same, that’s what he did.”

  She frowned. “How could you possibly know all that?”

  “The content of Blake’s will is common knowledge among the men in my circle.”

  She tried to process what he was telling her. “But how do you know Tony is the son that was disinherited?”

  “He’s the second son.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Papa took a deep breath. “I’ve known who he was from the moment he stepped into my office that first day.”

  “What? He told you and you didn’t tell me!”

  “No, no. He never said a word about it. But I knew his father, Essie. We were on opposing sides of a bill I wanted passed once, back when you were just a little girl. He was a hard man with a lot of money. When the bill went in my favor, he took it personally and I found, through no fault of my own, that I’d made a formidable enemy.”

  “But that doesn’t explain how you knew Tony.”

  “The Morgan men all bear a striking resemblance to one another. Tony looks like his father. And his father like the father before him. There was no mistaking him. And even if I’d had any doubts, they were put to rest when he used the last name Bryant.”

  “Why?”

  “His mother was a Bryant. I’d known her father for years. He hated the Morgans and refused to grant Blake permission to court his daughter. But Blake was still stinging from the loss of that bill and wasn’t about to be told no a second time. So they eloped.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “And if that weren’t enough, she was barely out of the schoolroom and he was twenty years her senior and still grieving over his first wife.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “It wasn’t a love match—at least, not on his part. He wanted a mother for his baby son and a wife to … well, he wanted a wife.

  And to b
e perfectly honest, I think his main reason for choosing Leah was because Alfred told him he couldn’t have her.”

  “Oh, that poor girl.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. In any event, she gave him another son and then a daughter, but Blake left his fortune and his business to Darius, his first son, and nothing to Tony.”

  “Why? What did Tony do to warrant his father’s wrath?”

  “He had the unfortunate distinction of being the product of a loveless marriage. Blake didn’t care any more for Leah’s offspring than he did for Leah.”

  Essie couldn’t begin to comprehend something so reprehensible, particularly when it was the man’s own flesh and blood.

  “What happened to Mrs. Morgan and Anna?”

  “He marginally provided for Leah and Anna, though Darius holds all the power and the purse strings.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why Tony would pretend to be someone he’s not.”

  “Let me ask you this: If you’d known he was Blake Morgan’s son, would you have hired him on?”

  “I never wanted to hire him to begin with.”

  “Exactly. If he had any chance of getting a job in the oil patch, he had to be someone other than Tony Morgan.”

  She rubbed her forehead. Tony, her Tony, was the cast-out son of Blake Morgan? She tried to imagine her parents disinheriting her. The hurt and betrayal alone would be devastating.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “I didn’t mind his being a Morgan. I wasn’t about to hold a grudge against him simply because his father hadn’t cared for me. At the same time, I didn’t want to show my hand too soon, just in case his motives were questionable. So I decided to sit tight and see what happened.”

  “And when he asked to court me? It didn’t occur to you that I might like to know the identity of the man I was stepping out with?”

  “I thought about telling you. But after praying about it, the Lord told me to be still. So that’s what I did. You’d have found out here pretty quick, though.”

  She frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “I just learned that Darius Morgan outbid us on the mineral rights for that chunk of land south of town.”

  “No! You can’t mean it. I didn’t even know he was interested in it.”

  “Me either.”

  “And we lost?” She tightened her lips. “I can’t believe it. And not only that, but now we’re going to have to deal with Morgan Oil doing business right here in our own backyard.”

  Papa shrugged. “He has just as much right to it as we do.”

  “But … but we were here first!”

  A sparkle entered his eyes. “Would it soothe your sense of injustice if I bought up some mineral rights in Beaumont?”

  She thought about it, then smiled. “Actually, I think it would. You want to?”

  He chuckled. “We’ll see. In the meanwhile, Morgan’s men will be pouring into town pretty soon and they’ll be all too happy to tell everyone within hearing distance just exactly who Tony is.”

  She bit her lip. “Is Tony aware that you know he’s a Morgan?”

  “He has no idea.”

  “And you think it’s really as simple as he wanted a job?”

  “I do. From everything I’ve seen and heard, he’s a fine man. I’ve been most impressed.”

  She hoped he was right. Oh, how she hoped he was right. “Do you think he knows about Morgan Oil’s plans to move in?”

  “I doubt it. It’s my understanding he’s been completely cut off from them. Besides, I just found out myself a couple of hours ago.”

  “Did you tell Uncle Melvin about Tony?”

  “The very first day the boy arrived.”

  Slapping her hands against the arms of the chair, she pushed herself up. “Well. I guess I’ll go on to the clubhouse. I’m sure Tony’s wondering what’s keeping me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “First I’m going to train him for the bicycle race. Then I’m going to ask him straight out who he is.”

  chapter TWENTY-ONE

  TONY JUGGLED the football with his thighs and feet, trying to see how long he could keep it in the air. The door to the clubhouse squeaked open and he caught the ball.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  Essie removed her shawl and hat and hung them by the door. “Something came up and I couldn’t get away.”

  He pushed the hair out of his eyes. “Is it because you’re still mad at me?”

  “Mad at you about what?”

  He hesitated. If she wasn’t dwelling on their argument about her going to the fields, he wasn’t fool enough to bring it up. “You aren’t wearing your bloomers.”

  She glanced down at her brown skirt and white shirtwaist. “I didn’t have time to change.”

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “We lost our bid for the mineral rights south of town.”

  “You’re kidding.” He frowned, yet took time to appreciate the sway of her hips as she approached. “Who outbid you?”

  “Morgan Oil.”

  He froze. “Morgan Oil? Why would they bid on rights clear up in Navarro County?”

  She stopped in front of him and took the ball from his hands. “You tell me.”

  Dragging his hand across his mouth, he looked around the clubhouse, trying to make sense of what she’d told him. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know they were interested in it.”

  “No? Well, I’m glad to hear that, anyway.”

  He glanced at her sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she said, moving to the bin against the wall and dropping the ball inside. “Did you put yourself through all the paces?”

  “I did.”

  “You’re completely through with your workout?”

  “Except for our football match.”

  “Well, we won’t be having that tonight.” She turned around, facing him, then clasped her hands in front of her. “Just when were you planning on telling me your real name is Tony Morgan?”

  Take the deuce. One of M.C.’s crew must have inadvertently said something. He’d been afraid of that. He’d hustled her off that field just as quick as he could. But it obviously hadn’t been quick enough.

  “I don’t know, exactly,” he said. “How did you find out?”

  “That hardly matters, Tony.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it does.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for quite some time.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “I was afraid you’d question my motives.”

  “Motives for what?”

  “For working for Sullivan Oil. For,” he swallowed, “for stepping out with you.”

  “And what are your motives, Mr. Morgan?”

  He started toward her, but she held up her hand. “Stay right where you are, sir, and answer my question.”

  “It’s a really long answer. Can we go to your office over there and sit down?”

  “I don’t think so. Why don’t you just give me the short version.”

  He massaged the back of his neck. “My interest in you is genuine, Essie. Very genuine. And asking for permission to court you was not something I did lightly.”

  He gave her a chance to respond, but she remained silent. The sconces cast a glow over her features. Her expression gave nothing away.

  “I think about you all the time,” he continued. “I think of all the places I want to take you and all the things I’d like to do with you, then I remember I have no money. No secure future. Not even a real name anymore.” He blew out a huff of air. “Then I start worrying about how I’m going to support you. I’ve been scared out of my mind that if you ever found out who I was, you’d think I was using you to gain a foothold in your father’s business. And I’m not.

  I swear I’m not.”

  She remained stoic. “What are you doing, then, Tony?”

  “I’m trying to learn
everything I can about the oil industry. I know a lot about the business side of it, but not as much about the everyday field work. So that’s why I came here. To get a job with the largest producer of Texas oil so I could learn the ropes.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly managed to move up the chain of command rather quickly, haven’t you?”

  He crossed the floor, ignoring her attempts to keep him at bay. “I earned those positions fair and square,” he said. “My success in the fields has had nothing to do with you and me.”

  “I’m part owner and sole heir to the Sullivan Oil enterprise. Of course it has to do with you and me. Do you take me for a fool?”

  He grasped her arms. “Don’t, Essie. Don’t believe the worst, please.”

  “How can you expect me not to when you’ve done nothing but lie from the moment I laid eyes on you?”

  “That’s not fair. I’ve not lied about everything. Only about my name. It’s just a name.”

  She pulled free of him. “Don’t patronize me. It’s much more than a name and you know it.”

  “All right. I was wrong to have lied. And I’ve known that for quite some time now. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to push the clock back and knock on your door for the first time as me. The real me.”

  She swallowed, her poker face disintegrating, the distress in her eyes apparent.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked. “At least when we began to court. Couldn’t you have told me then?”

  He reached for her again, but she flinched, so he contented himself with lightly rubbing her arms.

  “I wanted to,” he said, “but don’t you see? If I’d told you at that point, you would have sent me packing. You know you would have.”

  She turned her face away, and he could not resist pulling her to him. She felt so good. So soft. Whiffs of clove and sugar teased his senses.

  He nuzzled her hair. “If you don’t believe me, ask Mrs. Lockhart.”

  She jerked out of his arms and stumbled back. “Mrs. Lockhart? Mrs. Lockhart! What has she to do with this?”

  “Well, she, she knows who I am,” he answered, confused at her reaction.

  “You told Mrs. Lockhart who you were and you didn’t tell me?” she screeched.