Deep in the Heart of Trouble

by Deeanne Gist

  The clock chimed two. Pinching her cheeks, she headed down the stairs. Tony crossed the porch just as she reached the entryway.

  He wore a silk vest, gray trousers, and summer jacket. They stared at each other through the screen door.

  “The first time I saw you through this door, you were sliding down the banister,” he said.

  “Shhhhh.” She glanced over her shoulder, then quickly opened the screen. “Papa might hear you.”

  “You were wearing knickerbockers and a hat that reached clear to here.” He held his hand level with his nose. “And then you looked at me and I thought you were just about the prettiest thing I ever had seen.”

  She raised a brow. “You thought I was married to my father.”

  “And I was jealous of him.”

  Her stomach somersaulted.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yes. Let me just poke my head into Papa’s study and tell him I’m leaving.”

  When she returned to the entryway, Tony stood holding the door open. She stepped out onto the porch and hesitated at seeing a Studebaker carriage parked in front of the house. The buckboard held a front and backseat with a natural wood finish and green cloth trimmings.

  “We aren’t walking?” she asked.

  Riding through town all dressed up like this would look too much like courting, and she certainly didn’t care to have her employees or the townspeople misinterpreting the reason for her excursion.

  “I’m taking some tools to the Central Blacksmith Shop,” he said. “Plus, M.C. will have a trunk with him. I figured a carriage would be best.”

  She glanced at the boot of the vehicle. Sure enough, a box of tools had been stowed there behind the second seat. Not seeing any way around it, she allowed him to escort her down the sidewalk and assist her into the buckboard.

  Shaking out her skirts, she noted he’d replaced his mud-splattered work boots with his Sunday boots. The expensive kind the cowboys called Wellingtons.

  Once again she wondered what had happened to change his circumstances. He enjoyed playing a card game or two with the boys, but she couldn’t imagine him gambling away his life’s fortune.

  He simply didn’t strike her as the type. But looks and charm and good manners meant nothing, really. It was what was on the inside that counted.

  “You look awfully fetching, Essie. Is that a new hat?”

  She glanced at him. “No. It’s not new, exactly. I just don’t wear it too often.”

  “Well, it’s very nice.”

  Despite herself, she was pleased. With its tall, willowy plumage, maroon satin ribbon, and butter-colored lace, it was one of her very favorites.

  She tipped her face up to the sky. It offered no clouds to temper the sun’s penetrating rays, but a steady breeze kept her from getting hot in the open carriage.

  Mr. Drake’s towering pecan tree—whose branches had provided her with hours of quiet reading as a child—spread beyond his yard and stretched out over the road. Warblers and songbirds that had poured into town after crossing the Gulf of Mexico flitted through its branches, each trying to outdo the other in song. Mrs. Davis’s rose garden thrived, showing off blooms of white, yellow, and pink.

  They reached the smithy’s in no time. Tony jumped down from the seat, instructed her to stay put and toted the box inside. Moments later he rejoined her.

  It couldn’t be more than ten after two. What in the world would they do for the next fifty minutes while they waited for the train to arrive?

  Clicking his tongue, Tony pointed the buckboard south.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’ve some time to kill, so I thought a ride out to Two Bit Creek would be nice.”

  “Why?”

  He looked at her. “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, is all.”

  “Why not?” he asked again, making no move to redirect the horses.

  “Because in order to get there we will have to pass many of my rigs and the men will see us together.”

  “So?”

  “So,” she said, scrambling for a delicate way to point out the obvious. “It might produce some talk.”

  “What kind of talk?”

  “You know exactly what kind of talk.”

  Pushing up the rim of his hat, he leaned back against the seat.

  “Yes, ma’am. I guess I do.”

  Now, what is that supposed to mean? “Well, I’m not sure I care to stir up any talk.”

  He chuckled. “Essie, there isn’t a woman in town who defies convention more than you. You own one business. Run another for your father. Wear bloomers. Travel clear to New York City by yourself, only to get your name plastered in the papers from here to kingdom come. You ride all over Corsicana on that bicycle and hold weekly shooting lessons for the women in this town. And now you expect me to believe a little ride out to Two Bit Creek is gonna upset your apple cart?”

  Good heavens. Put like that, she sounded like an eccentric old maid. But what some thought of as eccentric, others took for something else entirely.

  “It doesn’t mean I’m loose, Tony,” she said, fiddling with the gathers in her skirt.

  He yanked the horses to a stop. Right there in the middle of Fifth Street. She had to grab on to the rail to keep herself from pitching forward. She glanced up and down the street, relieved to find no one else coming or going.

  The muscles in his forearm swelled against his sleeve as he held the reins tightly wrapped in his right fist. “Look at me.”

  She lifted her gaze.

  His brown eyes conveyed acute displeasure. “I never, ever, for one single minute thought that you were anything other than the respectable woman you are.”

  Swallowing, she nodded.

  “Furthermore,” he continued, “I was not taking you out to Two Bit Creek for some prurient purpose. The train’s not due in for almost an hour, and you were looking so pretty in your dress and gloves and hat that I just wanted to take you for a ride.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but he wasn’t quite through.

  “And you wanna know something else?” he asked, whipping off his hat. “I’m sick and tired of you assigning motives to me that I don’t have. First you question my integrity. Now you question my morals.” He twisted to face her. “I don’t know what makes you think otherwise, but let me assure you I’m not about to risk my job by playing fast with the boss’s daughter.”

  She moistened her lips, refusing to be cowed. “I see. And if I wasn’t the boss’s daughter? Would you play fast with me then?”

  “Take the deuce, woman!” A tick in his jaw hammered. “Sometimes you make me so mad I could strangle your pretty little neck. And no. I do not make a habit of playing fast with any women. Boss’s daughters. Farmer’s daughters. Any kind of daughters. You got that?”

  The very fact that he was so insulted soothed many of her concerns. “Yes. I believe I do.”

  “Good.” He slammed his hat back on his head. “Now. Do you think you can ride out to Two Bit Creek without finding fault every step of the way?”

  She bit the insides of her cheeks. Never had she heard a more hostile invitation from someone who, she was beginning to realize, truly didn’t have some ulterior motive. “I shall do my best to steer my thinking in a more positive manner.”

  “Fine.” He slapped the reins, and the buckboard lurched forward. “You do that.”

  The horses shook their heads in protest and slowed to a walk after only a few yards. Essie’s mind backtracked, filtering through Tony’s exasperation and honing in on what he’d actually said.

  “You were looking so pretty in your dress and gloves and hat that I just wanted to take you for a ride.”

  She allowed his words to wash over her, seep inside and settle. In the past, she’d have waved off a declaration of that sort, assuming the speaker was simply being polite.

  But Tony hadn’t been spouting platitudes. He’d meant what he said. He was attracted to
her and wanted to ride out with her. So simple, yet so complicated.

  She’d already admitted to herself that she found him attractive, as well. But so far she’d been very careful not to dwell on it.

  She glanced at his hands as they loosely held the reins. Blue veins crisscrossed his tan skin, drawing her eyes to defined knuckles, masculine fingers and nails that, though scrubbed, still held a slight stain of oil.

  “I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said.

  She pushed a tendril of hair back up into her hat. “It’s all right. I seem to have that effect on people.”

  Squinting, he searched the horizon. “You have no idea of the effect you have on me.”

  She lifted her gaze.

  He swallowed, causing his Adam’s apple to jump up, then roll back down his throat. “I’d like to court you, Essie.”

  She caught her breath.

  “I asked your father, but he said I must appeal to you directly.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. That’s just what he told me.”

  “No, I mean, why do you want to court me?”

  He frowned. “What kind of question is that? The same reason any man goes courting.”

  “Why do men go courting?”

  He appeared at a total loss. “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Because they just do.” He turned the team west, taking the long way around in order to avoid passing any of Sullivan Oil’s rigs.

  She grabbed on to the wing to steady herself. “Let me rephrase it, then: What are your intentions?”

  “Are you trying to make me mad on purpose? This is the last time I’m going to tell you. They’re completely honorable.”

  She sighed. “I don’t want to know what kind of intentions you have. I want to know what they are. If you can’t tell me, then the answer is no.”

  He slipped a finger in his collar and gently tugged. She understood his discomfort but did not want to misinterpret or mistake what he was asking her. At this point in her life, there was only one acceptable reason for a man to go courting, and that was if he was considering marriage.

  The longer he took to respond, the more she realized she had her answer.

  “It’s all right, Tony,” she said. “Let’s forget you ever mentioned it.”

  “No,” he said, panic lining his voice. “I just don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  “It’s not.”

  On the outskirts of town he guided the horses off the road and onto a lightly worn trail that led to the creek. Sand and grass muffled the horses’ hooves. The wheels creaked with each turn.

  He sat up straighter. “I would like to see you more often in a more intimate setting so that I can get to know you better.” He let out a whoosh of air.

  “You’re all alone with me every night.”

  “That’s different. We’re working. Training. You’re bossing me around the whole time.” He shook his head. “I want to take you somewhere. Like the soda shop or fishing, even. I want to pick you up at your house knowing that you’d put on your finery for me—and only me. I want to go where there is no boss or trainer. I want to go somewhere with just you and me.”

  The trees grew thicker. The sound of water churning reached her ears. Loamy smells stirred from the earth.

  She toyed with her gloved fingers. “And what,” she whispered, “would all that lead to?”

  The creek came into view, its contents chafing against the banks, racing toward an unseen goal.

  He pulled the carriage to a stop, anchored the reins and turned toward her, placing his arm along the seat back. “Well, ideally, I suppose it would lead to marriage. Occasionally, however, I’ve seen it lead to heartache.”

  She nodded. “Tony?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What if I knew right now that it would lead to heartache.

  Would you still want to pursue this, um, courtship?”

  He frowned in confusion. “What makes you so certain our courtship would lead to heartache?”

  “Because,” she said, taking a deep breath. “If your feelings for me were to grow to the point of making an offer, I would be honor bound to reveal some things about me that might cause you to change your mind. And that would then lead to heartache.”

  An expression of skepticism crossed his face before he realized she was serious. After a moment of thought, he rubbed his mouth. “Would you like to tell me about them now and get it over with?”

  She clasped her hands together. The last time a man had asked to court her, she’d laid all her past transgressions on the table before proceeding. But she wasn’t the same person now as she’d been then.

  For the past four years she’d learned to embrace her singleness. Enjoy it. Be proud of it.

  Mrs. Lockhart’s words to Tony flitted through her mind.

  “She hides behind her spinsterhood… . She worries about what people think… . She won’t want to step out with an employee.”

  A fish jumped above the surface of the creek, the sun catching its silver scales in a moment of brilliance before it disappeared back into the safety of its home. She scanned the water, waiting for some of its companions to do the same, but no other fish appeared.

  Was she like that? Did she stay below the surface where it was safe? Never risking a journey out into the sunlight?

  “Essie?” he said, placing a finger beneath her chin and bringing her face around. “How ’bout we just take our chances and see how it goes?”

  She worried her lip.

  “It’ll be all right. If things progress, there will be time enough for you to tell me your secrets and for me to tell you mine.”

  She searched his brown eyes and found no censure there.

  Long ago she’d learned that she was a whole person without a man. That all she needed was Jesus Christ. Had she somehow taken that blessing and pushed God out of it? Made it about her instead of Him? About her being single and successful?

  She thought of the virtue she’d so carelessly gifted to a man who wasn’t her husband. Had she accepted God’s forgiveness, then subconsciously built a wall around herself that no man could possibly scale? What if God had a man for her after all?

  Is this your will, Lord?

  She waited, but He gave no answer. Not so much as an inkling as to what His thoughts were. Her heart began to hammer. Was she willing to let Him knock down that wall?

  Tony ran his thumb along her jaw. “What do you say, Essie? Will you accept my offer?”

  It was a risk. A huge risk. But deep down, she wanted to tell him yes. This time, however, she wanted to do it the Lord’s way.

  Will you show me how to knock down that wall, Lord? Will you show me how to court a man?

  But she didn’t need an answer. She knew He would.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Yes, Tony. Yes, I will.”

  A gorgeous grin split across his face. His fingers tightened on her chin.

  He’s going to kiss me.

  After the slightest hesitation, however, he let her go and pulled his watch from his pocket. “We need to head back. With all the stopping and starting and detouring, it took longer to get here than I estimated.”

  “All right.”

  He gave her a sideways look. “If we take the more direct route back, we’ll pass all the boys.”

  Her palms dampened.

  “I can’t think of an easier way to announce our courtship,” he said. “Can you?”

  Arranging her skirts, she shook her head.

  “Well, then. Let’s make it official.”

  chapter SEVENTEEN

  TONY CUT their buckboard right through the heart of the oil patch, passing rig after rig after rig. Most of them belonged to Sullivan Oil.

  The men stopped their work. They pulled off their hats and waved, then shouted a greeting and glanced speculatively between Tony and Essie.

  He kept one arm along the seat back, so there’d b
e no mistaking his claim. Essie looked neither left nor right but sat rigidly beside him, face flushed, eyes on the road.

  For an awful moment back there, he’d thought she was going to refuse him. He wondered what social faux pas she’d committed in her past to make her think he would back out. Any woman who’d been so outlandish as to have been in the newspapers was sure to have made a spectacle of herself more than once.

  But if he reached the point of wanting to marry her, he couldn’t fathom this imagined sin of hers being something he wouldn’t be able to overlook. How bad could it be?

  Besides, any secrets she had would pale in comparison to the fact that he’d lied to her about his identity. No telling what her reaction was going to be when he revealed himself as a Morgan. When he revealed that just a train ride away his own flesh and blood owned and operated Sullivan Oil’s most adverse competition.

  He clucked at the horses, urging them to pick up their pace. He really ought to go ahead and tell her. But if she found out now who he was, she might question his motives. He needed to keep his identity a secret at least a little while longer. But time was running out. M.C. knew who he was, as did Mrs. Lockhart and quite possibly Judge Spreckelmeyer. He only hoped he could convince M.C. to keep his knowledge to himself.

  Essie squirmed, becoming even more agitated now that they’d reached town. The boomers gave them no more than a passing glance, but the more established citizens gaped, tracking their progress down Main and making even Tony uncomfortable. What was the matter with everybody?

  He removed his arm from behind her and urged the horses onward. “Giddyup, there.”

  When they finally reached the railroad station, he felt as if he’d run a gauntlet. “What in tarnation was that all about?”

  “What?” she asked, placing her hands on his shoulders while he lifted her from the seat by her elbows.

  “You can’t mean you didn’t notice,” he said, indicating the town with a nod of his head.

  “Oh. That.” She took a step back. “Well, what did you expect?

  You’re now courting the town’s old maid.”

  He cringed. “Don’t call yourself that.”