Deep in the Heart of Trouble

  She glanced down the line. Tony and a lovely young woman were conversing with the mayor. He must have felt her regard, though, because he looked over and winked.

  It was all the fortification she needed. She turned back to Darius with a genuine smile. “You are quite correct, sir. I am indeed being courted by your brother.”

  “I must confess,” he said, taking note of the exchange between her and Tony. “I’m a bit surprised. Tony’s interests have always run to girls fresh out of the schoolroom. Strange that he would suddenly acquire a taste for the more matronly type. Wouldn’t you say?”

  Shock momentarily held her silent before she realized he was deliberately trying to discomfit her. She smiled to herself.

  “Well, Mr. Morgan,” she said, leaning toward him conspiratorially, “you know what they say … there’s no accounting for taste.”

  He lifted his brows.

  “Please, might I introduce you to our mayor’s wife?”

  She handed him over to Mrs. Whiteselle, then turned as Tony and the young girl beside him finished with the mayor.

  Tony reached out to her. She placed her hand in his as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “You look stunning,” he said.

  So do you, she thought. He had on his dark alpaca jacket, but the silk four-in-hand tie with a paisley pattern was one she hadn’t seen before.

  She tried to picture what changes his family might see in him after his summer away from home. His shoulders and chest had filled out from his work in the fields and their training in the clubhouse. The sun had added warmth to his skin, and though his trim waist wasn’t visible beneath his suit, it would be in evidence tomorrow at the race.

  A spurt of pride rushed through her. This handsome, wonderful man was her beau.

  “I’d like you to meet my sister, Anna,” he said.

  The young woman smiled and Essie caught her breath. Flawless skin, large brown eyes, long, long lashes, and rich brown hair conspired together to form nothing short of perfection. And as if that weren’t enough, she’d accentuated it all with a fabulous hat heaped high with white trim, yellow posies, and blue ribbons.

  “It is so very nice to meet you, Anna. Welcome to the Corsicana Oil & Gas Bicycle Invitational.”

  “Thank you. Mrs. Lockhart had nothing but the nicest things to say about you.”

  Essie glanced at Tony, then back at Anna. “You know Mrs.

  Lockhart?”

  “Oh my, yes. We are fast friends. Has she ever loaned you any of her books?”

  Frowning, Essie lowered her voice. “Oh dear. I hope she hasn’t been foisting those awful things off on you. They are a bit frivolous and not a little shocking.”

  “Do you think so? I hadn’t really noticed. What do you think, Tony?”

  He shrugged. “Thorns and Orange Blossoms wasn’t so bad.”

  Essie stared at him, aghast. But before she could ask why in the world he had read Mrs. Lockhart’s books, the next person in line stepped up.

  “So then the mortician says, ‘Yes sir, sheriff. It was a grave undertaking.’ ” Laughing, the mayor looked around at the men in their circle. “Get it? Grave undertaking?”

  Tony smiled, beginning to see why the man was so well liked.

  Judge Spreckelmeyer, the sheriff, and a fella by the name of Mudge from Alamo Oil chuckled.

  A burst of appreciative male laughter from across the hotel’s parlor drew their attention.

  “Appears your sister is the belle of the Welcome Reception,” the judge said, clapping Tony on the shoulder.

  Taking a sip of punch, Tony looked over the rim of his cup to where Anna sat surrounded by men. A couple of wheelers from some of the smaller oil companies, along with Preacher Wortham and Deputy Howard, all vied for her attention.

  “Their efforts are doomed to failure, I’m afraid,” Darius said, joining them.

  “Oh?” Spreckelmeyer said, stepping back to make room for him.

  “And why is that?”

  “She’s betrothed.”

  “Betrothed?” Dunn asked. Tony could see the sheriff mentally counting up the three short months since his father’s death.

  “Yes. To Norris Tubbs.”

  “Norris Tubbs!” Spreckelmeyer exclaimed. “Of the H&TC?”

  “The very same.”

  “But he’s my age.”

  Darius pulled on his cuffs. “So he is.”

  The sheriff, the judge, and the mayor exchanged glances, then looked at Tony, but before he could say anything, Harley tugged on his coat.

  “Hey, Mr. Tony.”

  “Well, howdy there, Harley. Where did you come from?”

  “Me and some o’ the boys have been helpin’ Miss Essie lug ice and such. I was telling ’em about what happened that night when Bri was bit and wanted to show ’em your knife. Do ya mind?”

  “Of course not.” He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to the boy, watching as he raced over to a small group of schoolmates. The gangly youths in their Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes pulled at their collars and scratched their starch-covered chests while hovering near the refreshment table.

  “Ah, looks like Finch has finally made it,” Darius said.

  Tony turned his attention to the entryway. Essie excused herself from the group she was attending and welcomed the newcomer. Finch made a show of bowing deeply and bringing her hand to his lips.

  He didn’t look like a man who was grieving over the loss of his second wife. He held Essie’s hand too long, no matter how gracefully she tried to extract it, and then bent close, whispering something before pulling back, clearly amused by his own words.

  Essie freed her hand and unobtrusively wiped it against her skirt.

  She scanned the room, smiled at Tony, then proceeded to escort Finch toward the group of men. His suit was black with lace at his cuffs, accented by an elaborately tied ascot and patent leather bals.

  He always had been a bit of a dandy.

  “Gentlemen,” Essie said, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Finch Morgan. Blake Morgan was his uncle.” She introduced her father, the sheriff, the mayor, and Mr. Mudge from Alamo Oil. “And you, of course, know these two.”

  Tony extended his hand. “I was sorry to hear about Rebecca.”

  Finch clasped his hand. “Thank you. I still can’t quite believe she’s gone.”

  “I confess to feeling the same way.”

  Finch pulled out a quizzing glass and peered at Tony more closely. “I see you finally stripped yourself of that ghastly moustache. When did you do that?”

  “He did it the same day he was stripped of his inheritance,” Darius answered. “Both lightened his load a bit, didn’t they, Dogbone?”

  Essie gasped and an awkward silence followed.

  Tony rubbed the skin above his lips. “Funny how something that was such a part of me is so easily discarded. I find I hardly even notice its absence anymore.”

  Chuckling, Finch reached into his jacket and withdrew a silver cigarette case. Flipping it open, he offered mechanically rolled cigarettes to the men. Darius and Mudge each withdrew one from the holder, but the others declined.

  “Well, if you gentlemen would excuse me?” Essie was wearing her blue gown, the one that had a really wide sash that hugged her waist and emphasized her curves. He’d first seen it the night she lectured her club on bicycle etiquette. It was one of his favorites.

  Pink filled her cheeks at his obvious admiration before she excused herself again and turned away.

  Finch struck a match against the wall, held the flame for Darius and Mudge, then himself.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t quite decided what to think about those pre-rolled cigarettes,” the mayor said. “Do you really think the taste is worth the extra expense?”

  “I find them far superior to the handmade ones,” Finch answered.

  “What about you, Darius?”

  “Oh, I’ll not turn them down when offered, but in truth, a smoke’s a smoke. They’re all pretty muc
h the same to me. Kinda like women. Right, Tony? It appears women are all pretty much the same to you, too, no matter how old they are.”

  Spreckelmeyer pulled his hands out of his pockets. The sheriff slowly straightened.

  Darius had been trying to rile Tony since he’d arrived. Tony wasn’t sure of his brother’s game, but until he figured it out, he would hold on to his temper. Still, if Darius wasn’t careful, it would be Spreckelmeyer’s wrath he’d be facing and right soon if he kept it up.

  Harley reappeared at Tony’s elbow and handed him the knife. “Thank ya. The fellas liked it real well.”

  “Anytime, Harley.”

  “Hey, that’s some kind of knife there, Mr. Morgan,” Mudge said. “Can I see it, too?”

  Tony handed it to him.

  “Look at this, Mayor,” he said, holding it up. “It has a fancy stag handle with the top shaped like a dog bone.”

  Spreckelmeyer and the sheriff also leaned in for a better look.

  “I’m surprised you still have that old thing, Tony,” Darius said. “I remember when Dad gave it to you.” He laughed. “Now, there’s an amusing story for you—”

  Jeremy Gillespie busted through the parlor door covered in slush and skidding to a stop. He quickly scanned the room, spotted Tony and started toward him. He’d just reached their circle when he noticed Darius.

  “That your brother?”

  “Yeah. What’s the matter?”

  Jeremy returned his attention to Tony. “It’s Crackshot.”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, we’d tied a gunnysack around the top o’ the bailer and let it down real slow-like, when the sulfur gas started to blow. So we all backed off, but Crackshot, he got a little impatient. I tried to tell him that sulfur’d knock him out. But he goes right back over there and starts swabbing all the while that gas’s rolling down his throat.”

  Tony shook his head. “You’d think he’d have known better.”

  “Aw, you know what a loose screw he is.”

  Essie joined them, and Tony slipped his hand under her elbow. “Is Wilson all right?”

  Pulling off his hat, Jeremy gave Essie a brief nod, then turned back to Tony. “He stood it for a while. Even started up with another jag when his knees just up and buckled.”

  “Oh no. What did you do?” Essie asked.

  Jeremy shrugged. “I grabbed that cup mask Tony takes such stock in.” He shook his head. “You should’ve seen me wearin’ that thing all the while I was wrestling with that load o’ human being, trying to get him far enough away so’s I could push up and down on that big set o’ lungs he has and pump some o’ that stuff out of him.”

  “Where is he now?” Tony asked.

  “Still lying there. But he’s breathing.”

  Tony looked at the sheriff. “Can you find the doc and have him meet me out at the Agarita well?”

  “Both me and Howard will look for him, but in this mess there’s no telling where he is. You’d be better off takin’ him to the doc’s house before dark sets in. We’ll meet you there.”

  “I’ll go with you, Tony,” Judge Spreckelmeyer said.

  “No, sir. I don’t want you out around that sulfur. And you’d be of more use looking for the doc.”

  The judge nodded and headed off with Sheriff Dunn.

  “Jeremy, go get Ewing,” Tony said. “He’s over there with my sister, that woman in white and yellow.”

  “You think you’ll need the preacher?” Essie asked, concern lacing her voice.

  “I just want to be prepared. Either way, I’ll come by the house tonight and let you know how he’s doing. Harley, you stay clear of the field, you hear? I don’t want you near the gas, either.”

  He started to leave when Essie grabbed hold of his hand.

  “Be careful, Tony. That sulfur is …” She swallowed.

  It wasn’t just worry he saw in her eyes. It was something bigger. Something deeper. Something so sweet he couldn’t possibly resist it.

  And right there in front of his brother, his cousin, and the entire oil industry of Texas, he grasped her chin and kissed her flush on the lips. “I’ll be careful.”

  chapter TWENTY-THREE

  IT WAS almost midnight when Essie finally headed toward home. At the Welcome Reception, some of her club members had uncovered the plans of a small group of automobile advocates. They intended to overrun tomorrow’s bicycle parade with their horseless carriages.

  With a great deal of effort, Essie managed to track down this faction only to discover they had but one automobile between them. They were, however, quite intent upon using it.

  “I’m a firm believer in progress, Mr. Roach,” she’d said. “It is my opinion that though your automobiles are slow and prone to break down, they will one day be as common on the street as horse-drawn vehicles.”

  “Darn tootin’, ” he replied, spitting a wad of tobacco at his feet.

  “I suggest a compromise.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m listenin’. ”

  “Your vehicle can bring up the rear of the parade, and after you have passed, the crowd can fall in behind you, cheering you all the way to the racetrack.”

  “No, ma’am. I wanna be at the front.”

  “I’m afraid that is quite impossible. The entire event is centered around bicycles and they must lead the way. However, we could arrange for one of our city councilmen to ride in the vehicle with you, making your automobile our grand finale and hinting of our bright and prosperous future.”

  Scratching his chest, he considered her for a moment, then thrust out his hand. “You got yerself a deal, little lady.”

  She spent the next hour trying to find a councilman who was still awake and who would be willing to miss the parade so he could ride in the caboose.

  Opening her gate, she stepped through. The city had coordinated the race with the cycle of the moon to ensure as much light as possible during the evening hours of the event weekend. That full moon now shone down on Tony Bryant Morgan lounging on her porch steps. Her fatigue fled.

  He didn’t say a word as she moved forward, just patted the spot beside him.

  “How’s Mr. Wilson … er, Crackshot?” she asked, settling on the step.

  “In a minute,” he said, then gathered her in his arms and kissed her.

  The scent of sandalwood and shaving soap surrounded her. He splayed one hand on her back, the other squeezed her waist. She tried to inch closer, but they were as close as their position would allow.

  “Come here,” he said, slipping his arm beneath her legs.

  But before he could lift her onto his lap, she placed her hands against his chest. “Absolutely not.”

  He stilled, and she softened her words with a smile. “Much as I’d like to, it’s improper and we both know it.”

  “Nothing will happen,” he murmured, shifting over onto one hip so he could hold her flush against him.

  She shook her head, the brim of her hat knocking against his forehead.

  “Will you take off your hat, at least?”

  She pulled back. “You don’t like my hat?”

  “I love your hat, but it’s in my way.”

  “Which, in all likelihood, is just as well.”

  He brushed her cheeks with his knuckles. “It’s also hiding your eyes from me and I want to see your eyes.”

  She tried to scoot back, but he was having none of it.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “I wasn’t going far. Just to the other end of the step, at least until my heart slows down a little bit.”

  He ducked under her hat and trailed kisses along her jaw. “It won’t do you any good. I’ll simply follow you over there.”

  “Tony, if we don’t stop I’ll have a difficult time staying, um, unmoved. So either you let me put some space between us or I will go on inside and we can talk about Crackshot tomorrow.”

  Sighing, he moved his hands from her back to her face. “All right. Just one more, then we’ll talk.
”

  And what a kiss it was. By the conclusion of it, Tony was the one who stood and put distance between them. Standing a few feet away, with his back to her, he tilted his head up toward the sky.

  Millions of stars glittered against its black backdrop. Was this what Abraham saw when God made His promise? Stars so brilliant and numerous no one could doubt His omnipotence?

  “Will you marry me, Essie?”

  She jerked her attention back to Tony. He’d turned to face her, his hands jammed in his pockets.

  “What?” she said.

  He stepped forward, bent down on one knee and took her hand in his. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her heart sped up. Her hands turned clammy. Her eyes filled.

  The answer was on the tip of her tongue when she realized he’d never mentioned his feelings for her. Not ever. Not even once. Oh, she knew he enjoyed her company and that he was attracted to her. But she wanted more. Much more.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He seemed taken aback by the question. “Because I love you. Don’t you love me?” His grip on her hand loosened and he started to pull away. “I thought you …”

  She squeezed his hand and fell to her knees in front of him. “I do, Tony. I love you very much. And, yes. I would absolutely love to be your lawfully wedded wife.”

  A huge grin split his face. Scooping her up against him, he kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, answering his delight with her own.

  When he finally pulled back, they were both having trouble breathing.

  “Now will you take off your hat?”

  “No,” she said, smiling. “Not yet. Not until the deed is done.”

  He groaned. “What if I can’t wait that long?”

  Placing a tiny kiss on his chin, she removed herself from his embrace and returned to the step. “Now … how’s Crackshot?”

  And though her tone was casual, she could not calm the excitement and exhilaration she felt within. After all the years of singleness and all she’d been through, for the Lord to drop this man from the sky when she was least expecting it made her somewhat speechless.

  Tony settled himself on the sidewalk, facing her. “He’s not good, Essie. He woke up, and he can breathe all right, but he can’t see.”