"And what would they call you, if you don't ever intend to be a dreamer, Mr. Nelson? Do you mind if we call you Briar?" Olivia asked.
"I guess they'd call me a drifter, ma'am. And Briar is fine with me," he said.
"Then Briar it is. May I ask why you have such an unusual name?" She batted her eyes and cocked her head to one side.
"Momma wanted a girl baby she intended to call Rose. When I was born a boy she said she got a briar instead of the rose, so that's what she named me," he recited in a monotone.
"How funny." Olivia giggled.
"Yes, ma'am, and I've been explainin' it all my life," Briar said.
"Why didn't you go by your middle name if you didn't like Briar?" Clara asked.
"Don't have one. My parents had thirteen of us kids. I am the youngest son so they were about to run out of names. My sister, who is the only one younger than me, and I only got one name," he said.
"Thirteen!" Bessie exclaimed. "Your poor momma."
"My poor father," Briar nodded.
"Father?" Clara asked. "Why poor father? Momma did all the washing and ironing and cooking for the lot of you, didn't she?"
"Daddy left before dawn and came home after dark, so he never saw daylight except on Sunday. He worked in the coal mines until he died with black lungs," Briar said. "Please pass that peach cobbler, Dulcie. It almost looks too pretty to eat"
"Well, that's the best compliment I've had in years. See I told you, Clara, that he was a gentleman," Dulcie beamed.
"And Dulcie never makes a mistake," Clara said.
"The meeting of the Monday Night Poetry Club is now in session," Matilda said from the podium. "Tonight I will begin the reading with one of my favorites called "The Common Daylight," by Elizabeth Browning. Tucker, don't you dare go to sleep. Clara talked another man into coming to the meeting. He's sittin' there beside you and y'all can stay awake for an hour whether you like it or not. I hear one snore from the back of the room and I'll upset the chair you are sittin' in."
"Tucker Anderson." The tall man next to Briar stuck out his hand. "And you'd be?"
Briar shook his hand. "Briar Nelson. Don't know why I came. Don't know a blessed thing about poetry"
"Only reason I'm here is because when Tilly and Clara first got this hairbrained idea back in high school, I had to be the one to chaperone them and it got to be a habit," Tucker said.
Nellie cleared her throat and gave Tucker the mean est look she could conjure up. One that Briar figured could fry the big man into nothing more than a greasy spot on the hardwood floor if looks could accomplish their intended purpose.
She pointed her finger. "Shhh. You two can talk after we finish our reading. I will read my favorite poem when Matilda finishes. Then when I finish, Cornelia will have her turn."
Briar listened with half an ear, which was more than he figured Tucker was using. Matilda talked about being lifted up and something about her soul never mistaking some kind of light for the common daylight. Her voice wasn't bad even if he didn't understand all of the hidden meanings in the poem. Then it was Nellie's turn and she read in a high-pitched voice guaranteed to keep a man wide awake. The only thing Briar could think of that grated his nerves more was when his third grade schoolteacher missed the blackboard with chalk and accidentally raked her long fingernail across the board. Tucker either had nerves of steel or else he was half deaf because he leaned back, shut his eyes and really did fall asleep.
"Cornelia, it's your turn" Nellie smiled at Briar and frowned at Tucker.
Cornelia read in a whiny, sing-song voice like a fourth grader. Tucker wouldn't have a bit of trouble sleeping through that one. Briar had to put the noise out of his head and think about oil wells, leases and productivity reports to keep awake. Finally, Clara read for a short while. He forgot about business and didn't hear a word of the poetry but he did enjoy the way she spoke. Matilda took the podium again, concluded the business and announced that refreshments would be served in the adjacent room. Tucker awoke as if on cue, all smiles and acting as if he'd never snored a single time.
Briar envied him.
"So tell us, what are you doing in Healdton, Oklahoma?" Tilly asked Briar as she handed him punch in a tiny crystal cup and a cookie on a napkin.
"My job brought me here," Briar answered.
"And what is your job?" She asked.
"I work for Rose Oil Company as a roustabout," Briar said, figuring he might as well come clean right there in front of them all.
"Good Lord!" Clara dropped her napkin, cookie and all, on the floor and spewed punch across Tucker's white shirt, leaving red splotches from collar to belly button. "Now I recognize you! You are that oil riffraff who was fighting at the pool hall this afternoon. I thought I'd seen you before. Well, Briar Nelson, you get out of here. Go get your things out of my house. You are not welcome. I don't rent to the likes of your kind and you should have told Dulcie what you do for a living. I wouldn't think of having a man like you under the same roof as my boarders"
Briar shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving. I'm paid up for two months and I'm staying."
Clara set her empty punch cup down hard enough that Nellie held her breath, hoping the crystal hadn't chipped or cracked. "I'll give you back your money even though it's against the contract," she said through clenched teeth.
"No, thank you." Briar sipped his punch.
Clara raised her voice an octave. "Oh, yes, you will leave. You'll not spend the first night under my roof. Oil well trash doesn't stay at the Morning Glory. I'll get the sheriff and he'll make you leave. His office is only a couple of doors down the street"
"I'll be waiting right here." Briar popped the whole cookie in his mouth. Not bad, but entirely too small. It should have been at least as big as a man's palm.
Clara pointed at Tilly. "Don't you let him go anywhere. Most especially back to my house"
"Wouldn't think of it, darlin', but do hurry. I've still got work to take care of tonight and I don't want to miss a single minute of the fight," Tilly said.
"So you're really a roustabout?" Tucker said after Clara had slammed the door so hard the building rattled.
"Yes, I am," Briar said.
"Clara hates oil men. Tilly's not too fond of them and I'm right behind her," Tucker said. "Just thought I'd set you straight."
Briar reached for another cookie. "I figured she had something against preachers the way Dulcie talked. No one asked if I was working for an oil company."
"She hates preachers and oil riffraff equally," Tilly said. "Preachers, because one broke her heart. Oil men, because they've disrupted her perfect world."
Before anyone could say anything else, Clara slung open the door and literally dragged an older man into the room by his shirt sleeve. "This is the sorry culprit who needs to be evicted from my house" She pointed at Briar.
"Good evening, sir. I'm Briar Nelson and I do indeed work for an oil company" Briar laid his napkin and cup on the table and extended his hand toward the sheriff. "I rented a room this morning at the Morning Glory Inn. Paid my money for two months and signed a legal lease on the room. It does not state anywhere on the lease that if I work in the oil wells, I can't live there. It does say that if I'm not in by ten o'clock at night my lease can be revoked. Right now it is nine-fifteen, and I do intend to be in my room by ten."
"That true, Clara?" the sheriff asked.
Clara crossed her arms over her chest, making a platform for an ample bosom, and glared at Briar. "Yes, it's true, but I want him out of my house. And you're going to put him out."
The sheriff rubbed his chin. The man had a firm handshake. Looked him right in the eye when he explained the lease. Talked intelligently. Didn't seem like the kind who'd kill all those old maids in their sleep or rob Dulcie of a ham or two. "I can't. He's signed the paper and if it doesn't say anything about what a man does for a living and that's the only reason you've got for wanting him gone, then I guess he's going to stay. I'll read the lease tomorrow morning, but
I expect you got yourself a boarder for two months."
"This is ridiculous," she stormed.
"Yes, it is," Briar said. "If you want to dictate what kind of work a man does, then you'd better change your lease when I leave"
Clara shot icy cold daggers from her blue eyes across the room at him. "Oh, you can be sure I will. And you just try crawling in from your sinful living one minute past ten o'clock and I'll have you out of my house so fast you'll wonder if you ever ate a piece of Dulcie's chicken. Why don't you just leave? You know you're not wanted."
"Because I like it there. It's clean and Dulcie is a good cook. I can live with a shrew like you to get those things. I've lived with worse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take my sinful self home to bed. Wouldn't want to be late," Briar said.
"Honey, you just think you've lived with worse. You've just signed on for two months of pure hell," Clara said.
"Been there. Seen that. Don't scare me no more," he said seriously, leaving the bunch of them staring at the door he closed behind him.
Alonesome whippoorwill sang a solo outside Briar's open window that night. He wondered if Clara was lying awake listening to the same melody. Clara, who'd snubbed her nose at him, tried to evict him and generally hated him. He should crawl out of bed, pack his suitcase and disappear into the night. Prejudice surely went farther than the color of a person's skin. Clara and her cousins acted like they were heads and shoulders above the people who worked in the oil fields. No, he wasn't going to let Clara win the fight. It went against his better judgment to stay in a place where he wasn't wanted. He thought about the look on her face when the sheriff told her she couldn't evict him. Now that was pure compensation if he failed in the mission he'd set out to accomplish. A streak of stub bornness made him lie there on his bed, hands behind his head, eyes wide open staring out into the night through the open window where night breezes filtered in along with the whippoorwill's sad song. With a grin on his face, he finally shut his eyes and slept soundly.
Clara heard the annoying bird all right. If she could have, she would have reached out the window and wrung its wretched neck. Instead of lulling her to sleep, the noise grated on her nerves. It had no right singing outside her open bedroom window when she was so angry she was still seeing red dots in front of her eyes. How dare that man dupe Dulcie and then refuse to leave! Well, she'd teach him a thing or two in the next two months. He'd think he was roasting in hell one minute and sitting naked on an iceberg the next. She hoped he did stay out past 10:00 one night. When he did, he'd find his belongings scattered all over the front lawn. She'd throw his overalls and shirts out of the upstairs window; hopefully it would even be raining that day and she'd see how many she could put in a big mud puddle. She slept fitfully, dreaming of Percy coming back to town, gathering her up into his arms and carrying her to his automobile. In the dream, she pulled her derringer out of her purse and put one hole through his heart and another right between his eyes.
Like always, Briar arose long before dawn. He dressed in fresh denim overalls and a chambray shirt, shaved leisurely since no one else was up and standing in line for the bathroom and went downstairs. He was surprised to find Matilda Anderson snoring on the sofa in the living room. She slept on her back, her arms tucked under her head, long black hair splayed out in disarray all around her head. Heavy lashes rested on perfect skin. Pretty, no doubt about it, but not as beautiful as Clara.
He tiptoed around her out to the porch where he claimed the white rocking chair to watch the sunrise. Dulcie didn't even see him in the corner when she arrived a few minutes later. The rattle of pots and pans and a gospel hymn being hummed let him know she was cooking breakfast and in a good mood.
Dawn brought a lovely sunrise; one that did not disappoint Briar. A big tangerine-colored ball peeped over the far horizon, defining tree limbs into long fingers beckoning the whole world to wake up and see the show. It kept growing, pushing away the darkness, promising a new day. Peace filled Briar's heart as he rocked to and fro, keeping a soft rhythm. His outside world might be filled with trials, the biggest of whom was named Clara Anderson, but sitting on the porch watching the birth of a new day put everything in perspective.
If he succeeded in talking oil leases out of Tucker and Matilda, he'd make a lot more money than he already had. If he failed, it wouldn't prevent the sun from coming up and the world turning on its axis, and there was already enough money to support Libby for her lifetime should anything happen to him.
* * *
"Tilly, what in the world are you doing here?" Clara's clear Southern voice drifted out the screen door.
Tilly rubbed her eyes and sat up, reaching for the hairpins she'd thrown on the floor. "Good mornin', darlin'. That danged new deputy the sheriff hired caught me coming home from over in Ragtown without any lights. I told you I needed a new car. Blasted thing hit a rut in the road and the lights just blinked out."
"Good Lord, what happened?"
"He was hiding out there in a grove of post oaks. Said he was looking for moonshine runners. I had to put on the charm to keep him occupied so he didn't see my little sawed-off shotgun under a blanket right beside me on the seat. He wanted to know what I was doing out all alone at that time of night. Told him I'd been checking on a sick friend on a farm just outside of town and was going on my way to spend the night with you. He insisted on giving me an escort right up to your door so I would be safe."
"Honey, you're going to get caught one of these days."
Briar had to change rocking chairs and strain extra hard to keep up with the conversation.
"And when I do, I'll sweet-talk my way out of it. What do you think the `Sweet' in Sweet Tilly stands for? Don't worry about me. I could charm the hair off a frog's hind end. What's Dulcie makin' for breakfast? I'll eat with y'all, then I've got a ton of work to do at the farm today"
"You look like you slept in those clothes," Clara chided.
"I did, darlin'. Thank goodness I was wearin' a dress. Don't think the deputy would have believed me so quick if he'd seen me in my work clothes," Tilly laughed.
"You may have to put him on the payroll."
"Hell's bells if I will. Granny didn't pay for protection. Neither did Momma and I won't either. I was raised to outsmart the law and I can do it," Tilly said adamantly.
"Okay, don't get your dander up so early in the morning. I'll tell Dulcie to set another plate."
"Dander isn't beginning to get up. Not yet, anyway. I'm tired and I'm hungry. By the way, how's that goodlookin' new boarder with a stubborn streak as wide as yours? Did you freeze him to death last night? Is there a dead body up there in his rented room?"
"If I had that kind of power, I'd use it for sure. If he's layin' up there dead, then my sleepless night will be worthwhile," Clara snapped.
Briar stopped rocking and sat perfectly still. They kept talking and he could hear the tone, but couldn't understand the words as they moved from the living room to the kitchen. So Tilly thought he was goodlookin', did she? And Clara hadn't slept so well? He wondered why Tilly had really been to Ragtown alone in the middle of the night, and what it was she did that would warrant protection money? At least he'd found out a little more about Tilly. She was fearless, driving her car out to Ragtown. Kept a sawed-off shotgun under the seat. Did she know how to use it or was it merely a scare tactic?
In a while, he heard the gaggle of feminine voices as the other boarders made their way down the stairs. Dulcie called everyone to breakfast and Briar stood up, stretched to a full six feet two inches and opened the front door. Silence and cold stares greeted him. Nellie huffed. Cornelia managed a sheepish grin. Olivia winked. The two B's, Bertha and Beulah, ignored him. "Guess he didn't die," Tilly said.
"Was I ailin'?" Briar asked.
"They don't call me a dreamer for nothing," Clara snapped.
Briar took the only available seat, with Tilly to his right and Clara at the end of the table. "Does that mean you dreamed of me dying? Well, I'm alive and we
ll and hungry as a bear after a long winter's nap. Those pancakes look delicious, Dulcie."
"If I'd a known you was one of them oil riffraff, you wouldn't be sittin' at this table." Dulcie emphasized each word with a jab of her fork across the table at him. "You sure enough pulled the wool over my eyes, Briar Nelson. Miss Clara told me the law says you can stay here and eat my cookin', but if I could figure out a way to put poison in your food I would, so don't you be tryin' to butter me up."
He piled four pancakes on his plate. "Anyone else got anything to say?"
"I don't like what your kind have done to our land or brought into our community, either," Nellie frowned.
Bessie slipped two fried eggs from a platter onto her plate, added a sausage patty and two pieces of toast. "Well, the whole bunch of you are silly as geese. Whether you like it or not, it's amongst us. I can remember fifty years ago when I was a young girl. I didn't like the way the war tore up my world either. But it didn't do me a bit of good to moan and groan and hate Yankees. Life went on. We adjusted. You will, too."
em. "Amen," Beulah nodded. "If you can't lick 'em, join
"Well said," Tilly nodded.
"Thank you," Briar said.
"Doesn't change my mind one bit, and I'm entitled to my opinion," Clara said. "Just be sure you're in before ten, Mr. Nelson, or you'll find yourself living in one of those tents out in Ragtown."
Briar set about eating. "I'll carry a watch with me at all times."
"Surprised to see you at the table, Tilly." Bessie changed the subject to keep the place from going up in flames. Clara had sure enough met her match and it was bound to be an exciting two months.
Morning Glory Page 3