"After much rain, oil good for bicycle. Not good for clothes.” Rainee turned away abruptly. “Great Cannibal Owl in parlor."
"What?” How had an owl got into the parlor? “Can't you drive it out with a broom or something?"
"Drive mother out with broom? Good idea.” Rainee grabbed a broom that was leaning against the wall beside the icebox.
"Wait!” cried Jessica. “My mother? Anne's here?” In her delight, Jessica completely forgot the lamentable state of her clothes and bicycle. “A red-headed woman?"
"Yellow hair. Speak with coyote tongue. Hard to believe that one your mother."
"Penelope,” guessed Jessica, her enthusiasm waning. “I wonder what she's doing here."
"Treating Rainee like Tonkawa squaw,” said Rainee ominously.
Assuming that it was an insult to be treated like a Tonkawa squaw, Jessica said, “Rainee, I am sorry."
"Uh-huh. I wash you off before you see Great Cannibal Owl."
"Great Cannibal Owl?” Jessica started to grin.
"Bad Comanche children eaten by Great Cannibal Owl unless change ways."
Jessica started to giggle at the idea of her beautiful, stylish mother being cast as the Great Cannibal Owl.
"No reason laugh. That one eat you alive. That one not act like mother."
"She actually is my mother,” Jessica admitted, “but only by blood."
"Your servant is impudent, Jessica,” said Penelope. “And goodness knows what racial stock she comes of. How could you hire such an unsuitable person?"
"Rainee suits me very well,” snapped Jessica, furious that her mother would criticize Rainee, who had been a lot better friend to Jessica than Penelope ever had. And what was Penelope doing here, hundreds of miles from Fort Worth? The only travel that interested her involved the purchase of clothing, and Beaumont was hardly a fashion center.
"Is this a social call, Penelope? Perhaps you were worried about my welfare,” Jessica suggested sarcastically. Jessica had written her several letters, but Penelope had not written back or communicated in any way.
"Well, I hardly think it my place to worry about you, Jessica,” said Penelope, responding to the sarcasm. “It was, after all, your own decision to ignore my wishes and leave town. Goodness, you could have been married to any number of eligible young men by now if you'd let me arrange it."
"I'm already married. Did you want me to commit bigamy?"
"Are you living with Travis Parnell again?” demanded Penelope. “Have you no pride whatever? The man only married you because—"
"I am not living with Travis,” Jessica interrupted. “I—I hardly ever see him."
"You should never see him.” Penelope dropped petulantly into Jessica's best chair. “What a dreadful little house. Whatever possessed you to move in here? And I notice that you're wearing those tasteless short skirts again. In fact—” Penelope squinted at Jessica “—you haven't been rinsing your hair, have you? It's that mousy brown again."
Jessica gritted her teeth. Until now, she hadn't realized how much she enjoyed life in Beaumont. Here no one criticized her taste or appearance. Here she always had something interesting to occupy her time. And furthermore, she was rinsing her hair in the lemon preparation. From this moment forward she vowed to stop thinking about the drawbacks of Spindletop and appreciate what she had.
"Well, Mother, to take your objections in order, this dreadful little house belongs to Grandfather; I can tell him you object to it if you like.” Jessica noted with satisfaction that her mother looked alarmed. “Then you mentioned my skirts. They're practical, given the mud and oil everywhere. Your skirts, I noticed, are soiled at the hem, and take my word for it, you'll not get the oil stains out. Then—what was it? Oh, my hair. Decent water is in short supply here. Also lemons. I do the best I can with what's available in the way of time and supplies. I think Grandfather might object if I spent more time on my hair than his business, but again, I can pass your complaint on to him.” Jessica was feeling quite smug at the end of her counterattack because her mother looked absolutely stunned. What had Penelope expected? That Jessica would burst into tears?
"My goodness, Jessica, don't be so sensitive. If I seem critical, it's for your own good, and for heaven's sake, don't bother your grandfather.” Penelope then flashed a brilliant smile and added, “Actually, my dear, I think you'll be delighted with the nature of my errand. I am here on business."
Jessica gave her mother a wry look. Business? What business could Penelope have here? And if she really did, why hadn't she let Grandfather Duplessis handle it for her instead of traveling all the way to Beaumont?
"Your grandfather has been telling us about the land he owns here, which he expects you to sell for him, so Hugh and I have decided to help you out, dear, by buying it. Hugh is ... rather busy just now, so he asked me to handle the matter."
Jessica frowned at her.
"Aren't you pleased?” asked Penelope impatiently.
"All of it?"
"Well, that will depend on how good a price you make me,” Penelope replied, smiling coyly.
Jessica had seen that particular smile directed at various men, even Travis, but never at herself. “Land speculation can be a risky venture,” said Jessica.
"Nonsense,” Penelope snapped, waving a dismissing hand. “The papers are full of the fortunes being made."
Her mother had oil fever, thought Jessica, astonished. “The land is terribly expensive,” she murmured. “Especially on the hill where I guess it's ten times as much as acreage surrounding Spindletop."
"Well, since it's all in the family, and since I'm doing you a favor by—"
"Penelope, have you talked to Grandfather about this?"
"Your grandfather will be delighted to—"
"Yes, but have you talked to him?"
"Well, Jessica, I thought you were in charge. Of course, if you're just a little errand girl...” Penelope paused, obviously expecting to goad Jessica into an ill-considered reaction.
"I would certainly have to consult Grandfather before making any special prices—for you or anyone,” said Jessica.
Penelope frowned. “How little family feeling you have—and after I took you in and paid for your wedding and your—well, no matter. I can see that such considerations mean nothing to you."
She waited, expecting Jessica to show some family feeling. Jessica remained silent. “How much do you expect me to pay for this land?” Penelope demanded angrily when it became obvious that Jessica was not going to respond to either bullying or appeals to sentiment.
After ascertaining that Penelope was interested in buying rather than leasing, Jessica quoted what she thought might be the going rates on various parcels owned by her grandfather. Presumably her mother and Hugh planned to resell later when the prices had risen.
"Well, it's obvious that getting more land for less money is better than less land for more money,” said Penelope smugly.
"Not necessarily,” warned Jessica, wanting to be fair. “Travis says the off-hill land will lose its value sooner or later because there'll be no oil there."
"You have been seeing him!” exclaimed Penelope. “Have you no shame, Jessica? Even if you're not very pretty, at least you could maintain your pride by staying away from a man who used you so abominably. And if you're too stupid to see that he's trying to do us damage again, I'm not. He obviously said that because he himself wants to get that lower-priced land cheap."
"No, he—"
"Don't be a fool, Jessica, and don't take me for one."
"Very well, Penelope,” said Jessica grimly.
"This is certainly more than I expected to pay,” said Penelope frowning, “but goodness gracious, we'll still make lots and lots of money.” Her face lit up at the thought. “I'll write you a draft on Cattleman's this very minute."
"We only deal in cash."
"I'm your mother. I—"
"You made it clear to me months ago,” Jessica cut in, “that I'm not to think of you that
way."
"I said not to call me Mother. Of course you may think of me as your mother."
"It doesn't matter. When it comes to land, it's cash only,” Jessica insisted.
"Why, you selfish little chit,” snarled Penelope. “You and Travis probably plan to have that land for yourselves, but that's my father's land. I have a right to make the profit on it. Why, I've a mind to talk to Father about the way you've treated me."
"Do that,” Jessica replied. “And keep in mind that the price goes up all the time."
"You just said it was going to fall."
Jessica shrugged. “Sooner or later, if Travis is right, it will."
Penelope rose, jabbing the tip of her parasol against the floor with a sharp click. “I'll be back,” she announced threateningly. “See that you don't sell before I return."
"I'll make the best deal I can for Grandfather. After all, I'm his agent, not yours."
"Father does not need the money,” said Penelope. “You're both being shockingly greedy, and I don't know how he can trust important matters to a stupid girl like you. If I don't buy the land, you'll probably manage to do the wrong thing with it, and then where will I be when Father dies and I inherit his estate?"
Jessica looked at her with distaste. Grandfather Duplessis was in excellent health for a man his age and had always been very generous with his daughter in the past, or so Jessica had heard. How could Penelope talk about his death with such indifference? Rainee's description of her as the Great Cannibal Owl no longer seemed so funny.
"And I want you to know how much I resent your forcing me to make this trip twice. Two days on a disgusting train to get here! Of course, the conductor and various gentlemen were very attentive—” Penelope had gathered up her parasol and reticule “—but I should be home seeing to my fall wardrobe. I had to miss two appointments with my dressmaker.” She left without even saying good-bye and climbed daintily into the waiting hack.
Jessica shook her head in amazement; Penelope had once again outdone herself in the contest for most selfish and insensitive mother of the year. After coming so far, she had criticized Jessica's housekeeper, home, and appearance, tried to interfere in her marriage, proposed to satisfy her greed at Jessica's expense—because Jessica was sure Grandfather Duplessis would not appreciate any financial losses negotiated for Penelope's sake—and then left—without showing the slightest interest in Jessica's welfare or activities. She hadn't even stayed to tea.
Jessica felt so depressed by the visit that she didn't do any more business that day. The idea that she might be handling her grandfather's interests badly nagged at her, making her feel uneasy and indecisive, hardly a frame of mind in which to be out making deals. Had Travis been giving her bad advice about the future of land values? Was he again trying to set someone in her family up for a loss? Everything he had said made sense to her, especially after she talked to knowledgeable oil men like Captain Lucas and Patillo Higgins and to other drillers like the Hamils and the Sturms. But then maybe they would back Travis up because he was one of their own. Maybe he had warned them to support him. Maybe they were all laughing about how gullible she was.
"Whatever coyote tongue say to you,” Rainee advised, “you not listen."
Jessica had been rocking in her rocking chair, hands clenched in her lap, for over an hour when the housekeeper came in and gave her a stern look.
"Woman like that make bad medicine. She say not call her Mother?"
Jessica nodded unhappily.
"Then not think mother. Think Great Cannibal Owl want to eat you. Or maybe you not trust Rainee?"
"Rainee, you're about the only person in Beaumont I do trust.” Jessica rose impulsively to clasp the woman's hands. “I do feel so alone here sometimes."
Rainee's severe face softened. “You give me protection. I give you good counsel."
They smiled at one another. Several days earlier Jessica had arrived home for the noon meal to find Rainee being harassed by a strange white man. Jessica had given him a sharp poke with her umbrella and, having got his attention, her best Mount Vernon Seminary look, after which she said, “If I ever see or hear it said that you have bothered my housekeeper again, sir, I shall have Sheriff Ras Landry arrest you, and if you should ever get out of jail, I have friends who would be glad, on my behalf, to shoot you."
The man had scuttled away, leaving Rainee looking surprised at Jessica's nerve and Jessica feeling rather pleased with herself. She had even offered to purchase a firearm for Rainee's protection, although she admitted that she herself abhorred them.
"Who shoot it?” Rainee asked dryly. “I shoot white man, I get hung. You maybe faint before you pull trigger.” Jessica had giggled; Rainee ventured a half smile. “We do fine. You have cold eye of mother panther; I have claws.” She lifted one side of her skirt to reveal an evil-looking knife in a sheath strapped to her thigh.
"Could you use that?” asked Jessica, greatly impressed.
Rainee shrugged. “Skin of man more tender than hide of buffalo."
"My goodness.” Jessica hadn't known what to say, but she felt safer after that. In a really tight spot, a knife was probably more potent protection than a cold eye.
"I go home now,” said Rainee, bringing Jessica back to the present. “You all right?"
Jessica nodded reluctantly. She still hated being alone in the house, and her mother's unpleasant visit had left her feeling very vulnerable. Consequently, an hour later when there was a knock at her door, her fear tempted her to pretend the house was empty, although the lamps were lit. Hesitantly, she approached the window and peered out, convinced after a moment that the tall figure on her porch was Travis. Why had he come? she wondered. It wasn't Saturday. Had something terrible happened?
"Travis?” she called cautiously.
"Who else?"
He sounded so sure of himself that Jessica could have kicked him once she had the door open. He was grinning widely until he saw her face. Then he frowned and stepped in without asking. “What is it? Has someone been bothering you?” He looked absolutely fierce, and his very protectiveness made her feel less prickly, although at the back of her mind was the thought that relaxing in his presence was dangerous.
"Why are you here?” she asked. “You're only allowed on Saturday."
"I want you to cut my hair."
That request took her by surprise. “I don't know anything about hair cutting,” she stammered. “Why would you ask me?"
"Because by the time I get back to town from the drilling site, my barber has already rented out all his chairs for the night. People sleep in them,” he added in answer to her puzzled look. “If I don't get a haircut soon, my hair will be as long as yours."
Jessica looked at him suspiciously. Was this some new ploy? she wondered. Maybe not. His hair was long. He looked rather like a shaggy frontiersman, maybe the way her father had looked as a young man driving cattle to Kansas, coming home to his mother's ranch in Palo Pinto County, which was still dangerous country in those days. As Spindletop was in these.
"Jessica, what is it, honey?” Travis asked.
"Nothing.” She shook off her fantasy. “I guess I could cut your hair, but I've never done anything like that."
"I'm not fussy,” Travis assured her. “I just want to get it off my shoulders."
She nodded and led him to a straight chair in the kitchen, draped a large cloth over his shoulders, and went to look for her comb and scissors. When she began to comb out the tangles the wind had blown in, Travis sighed and relaxed. Jessica tried not to notice how pleasant his hair felt in her hands, but its springy strength seemed to move with a life of its own, and its silkiness slipped across her skin, making her fingertips and palms tingle.
This had been a bad idea; any situation where she had to touch Travis was. Pressing her lips together firmly, she picked up the scissors and tentatively closed them on a lock toward the back of his neck. As she worked around toward his face, she asked him casual questions about land valu
es, hoping to get some reassurance against her mother's accusations, hoping to find out that she wasn't a fool for beginning to believe him—and his colleagues. She hated being so unsure of herself.
Her lack of confidence must have shown in her voice, because after she had put the scissors down and carefully brushed away the bits of cut hair, Travis caught both of her hands in his and asked gently, “What is it, Jess? You seem so troubled tonight."
Jessica bit her lip and turned away defensively.
"No, don't shut me out, honey. Let me help."
Hesitant, she glanced to him. Could she trust him? “I'm never sure that—that I'm handling things properly. I'm so new to this."
"Why, Jess, you're doing wonderfully well. Your grandfather would be the first to complain if you weren't."
"Maybe he expects all sorts of stupid mistakes. Maybe he's just humoring me or—"
"Nonsense.” Travis pulled her firmly down onto his lap. “Who's been criticizing you? Don't let some stupid man take advantage of you by saying a woman doesn't know what she's doing."
"It wasn't a man,” she whispered miserably.
"Not a man?” He looked nonplused, then forced her chin up. “Have those church ladies been bothering you again? No, they wouldn't be talking about land speculation."
"Penelope was here.” The whole story spilled out while Travis held her tight against his shoulder and stared grimly over her head.
"All right,” he said when she was finished. “This is what you do, Jessie. Walk into the Crosby and say you've got land to sell. The offers will pour in, and you'll find out what top dollar is on those parcels off the hill. Then when she gets back with the cash, and she will because Penelope wants to make a quick killing at your expense and your grandfather's—"
"But why?"
"Because she's greedy. When she comes around with the money, don't back down a penny on the price."
"But she could lose it all."
"Did you warn her?"
Jessica nodded unhappily.
"Then it's her lookout. Yours is to protect Oliver's interests. If you're still worried about this, get in touch with him. Tell him what's happening."
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