Authors: Kathryn Long
* * *
It was a disturbing dream. All about a lawyer, and the will, and Uncle Fred. She was arguing on her parents’ behalf. "They did too have money. Not much, but some set aside for me and the twins!" she protested.
"I’m so sorry, Miss Clinton, but that’s all been absorbed by legal fees and bill collectors," the lawyer explained.
She began to argue once more but he cut her off.
"And I’m afraid there’s more." He paused before going on. "Due to some legal red tape, your brother and sister won’t be able to go with you to Uncle Fred’s. They must, for the time being, live with your mother’s family in San Francisco."
"No!" she screamed. "You can’t do that!"
* * *
She woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering, but glad to be back in the real world. She looked in the rearview mirror and could see both Missy and Deek curled up, sound asleep. Then she glanced around, her eyes catching sight of the blue sign with white lettering, "Welcome to Missouri". It was just a stupid dream, she assured herself before going back to sleep, hoping to finally get the rest she needed.
A tap on the window woke Jess and was followed by the sound of a deep voice.
"Miss? Hey, Miss?"
Jess rubbed her eyes clear to see the person speaking. She recognized the tan uniform and badge of a highway patrolman. As she knew, the rest areas were regularly checked for vandalism. Jess rolled down the window. "Yes, sir?"
"Seems you have a flat." He gestured a finger to the back of the vehicle. "Rear left tire." When she didn’t respond, he continued, "If you got a spare, I’d be glad to change it for you."
She still didn’t say anything, so the officer got out his ID to show Jess, hoping to set her at ease.
"That would be very kind of you," she finally answered, then gave him the keys to the trunk.
Within minutes they were on the road again. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning, so by Jess’ calculations, they might get to the ranch by noon, if they limited their stops and didn’t run into major road construction. Uncle Fred had told Jess to get off the Bailey Turnpike at Chickasha about forty miles south of Oklahoma City. The Lazy K rested between there and the city of Lawton. It shouldn’t be too hard to find, she laughed aloud. It was only 3,000 acres, one of the biggest ranches in Oklahoma. She thought about calling Uncle Fred to let him know when to expect them, but decided it wasn’t worth waking him now. Maybe later, in the morning. After all, there was plenty of time. He’d be waiting, no matter what.
Chapter 4
"He’s the only suspect we can come up with, considerin’ the evidence, Aunt Emma," Caleb claimed defensively.
"But you haven’t got squat!" Emma retorted. "Not without Fred’s testimony."
"Well, I can’t very well get that, can I? With him lyin’ there like a vegetable!" he hollered back.
"Don’t you raise your voice to me, Caleb Gentry," she warned. "You may be sheriff of this here county, but you’re still a young pup who should learn manners and respect your elders. Ya hear?" She glared like she’d bore holes into Caleb.
He backed up a couple steps, obviously affected, though he wasn’t sure how, by this tiny, old woman who couldn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds. Her words had the biting taste of salt and vinegar. No one in this community wanted a confrontation with Emma Thomas. Not unless a body wanted to come away from it feeling like a whipped dog and totally stripped of his dignity. Caleb feared he was crossing that line and so needed to salvage what he could. "Emma," he began, but she jumped in before he could finish.
"Now, I was expectin’ this, so I prepared what to tell you." She took a swallow of lemonade, and then continued on. "I spoke to all of Fred’s ranch hands and asked them if they’d seen any strangers around. Well, sure enough old Toby Drake says he seen two riders farther out toward the Washita River. They were crossin’ yesterday evenin’ around suppertime. Now, I’m certain if you’d just send out the word, maybe we could catch up to ‘em and ask some questions. Never know what might turn up," she commented.
"Emma …" Caleb began to protest, thinking that just because those two were strangers, didn’t mean they’d done anything wrong, and he’d already talked to the ranch hands, including old Toby. Still, he didn’t want to rile Emma anymore than she was already. Most importantly, he didn’t want to give her a reason to continue snooping on her own.
Hard tellin’ what kinda
hornet’s nest she might stir up,
he thought.
"All right, Aunt Emma. I’ll call Jake over in Chickasha and Bob here in Lawton. Get them to look around. Will that satisfy you any?" he asked, exasperated.
"Might want to call Tyler down in Duncan, too," Emma suggested as Caleb walked out of the hospital room. "A drunkin’ Indian beatin’ up Fred. Humph! When pigs fly." She’d raised her voice just enough to be certain Caleb heard what she thought of his evidence.
Emma turned her attention to Fred’s unmoving form, watching the oxygen mask, his breath moving in and out, and the heart monitor’s constant blips across the screen. She pushed hard against her eyelids and felt the tired ache. She’d been there since seven this morning. Mac had warned her before she’d come into the room, but the shock of seeing Fred like that—tubes, respirator, the whole mess—rushed over her like an Oklahoma tornado.
She wanted to stay until Fred awoke, but the disheartening truth stared her in the face. He may not wake for a long while. Hell, maybe not at all. She wouldn’t candy-coat the issue. Life had taught her that hard lesson many times. Still, Fred was her friend. Next to Mac, the dearest she had. And, her heart skipped when she thought about it. She loved Fred, always had, but wouldn’t admit it to a living soul. So, she’d hope, and sit by his bed, and hope some more.
* * *
The tap on her shoulder nearly caused Emma to jump out of her skin. She jerked her head to the right so quickly, pain shot down her back and then up through her neck like a lightning bolt. The soreness was taking over her neck muscles already, she realized. "Hells bells! What in blue blazes made you sneak up on me like that?" Emma scolded.
"Sorry, Emmy. Didn’t mean to. I just needed to bring you a message from home," Mac apologized, a shamed look on his face.
"Well?" she snapped when Mac didn’t continue. She shifted her weight in the chair a bit. Lord, she was as stiff as a board. "Be needin’ a soak in Epsom salts tonight," she mumbled.
"What was that you said, Emmy?" Mac inquired.
"Never you mind. Now what’s the message?" An impatient tone controlled her voice.
"Oh, yeah. Forgot. Umm—ah—"
"Get on with it, for Christmas sakes!" Emma practically screamed.
"Daniel called to say Chestnut’s hurt her back leg and it don’t look good."
Emma’s mind started working fast, despite her tired state of mind. "How bad?"
"Well, it’s broke for sure, Emmy," Mac confessed reluctantly.
Her heart sank. Chestnut was one of their best mares. "Yes, well. I guess I’ll have to call the ranch and tell Daniel to put her down."
Mac noticed how forlorn and defeated she sounded. "I can call ‘im for you, Emmy."
Emma looked up at Mac. Her eyes glistened with newly formed tears, but she set her jaw to keep anymore from following. "That’d be gracious of you, Mac Yearling," she spoke appreciatively. "You’re a true friend. Sorry I got short with you."
With those words said, Mac gave Emma a warm smile and left the room.
Now, Emma once more concentrated on Fred. She could count on Daniel to handle Chestnut. She often boasted that he was the best ranch foreman in Oklahoma. Of course, many ranch owners had turned him away. Their suspicions and prejudice caused them to make what Emma called "lug-headed" decisions. Daniel had risen above his so-called station by going east and attending college. Some around Lawton and surrounding parts considered him to be a bit uppity with his degree and all. Of course, what really formed their opinion, Emma knew, was the fact that Daniel had some Cherokee blood in him. If truth be known, that fact more than anything was why she’d hired him. His inherited horse savvy was priceless. Besides that, Emma sincerely liked Daniel. He displayed strength, and independence, and a solid sense of loyalty. All of them were important qualities for the job of foreman in Emma’s eyes.
She glanced back at Fred and only wished her friend possessed some of that strength. Just a few days ago he’d been so animated. He had told Emma how excited he was about his brother’s kids coming to live with him.
"Oh, my gracious!" she exclaimed aloud and shot out of the chair. "Oh, Fred. The kids! We forgot about the kids!" Emma began pacing aimlessly around the room.
"Oh, Fred. What a pickle this is." Even though Fred probably couldn’t hear a word, Emma kept chatting on. "I’ll just have to call and—No, wait! What is today? Oh, fiddle! They’re due … why they’re due today, Fred. What a fine mess you’ve left me." Then realizing what she said, Emma reached over to pat his shoulder. "I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault, Fred Clinton. Bless your sainted soul. No. Not your fault at all."
Emma paused, bit down on her lower lip and began to think. After a few minutes she reached for the phone and dialed the ranch.
"Cora? This is Miss Emma … No. There’s no change, but he looks to be restin’ peaceful. Cora, I have some instructions for you. They’re important, so you listen real careful. All right?" Emma didn’t wait for an answer because she already knew Cora would mind. She expected and received that kind of respect from people, especially her employees. "We’re going to be havin’ company for a spell, startin’ this afternoon … Yes, that’s right. And we need to get things ready."
Chapter 5
Jess and the twins passed through Tulsa and Oklahoma City, now more than half way into the state. They crossed over the flat plain lands as well as more mountainous areas and viewed many oil derricks with their steel frames, so tall and ominous that the structures seemed to reach to the sky. And there were the countless ranches, and the farms with crops of beans, wheat and cotton growing out of that Oklahoma rusty, red soil. Now and then they would spot a prairie dog or rabbit running across the plains. Missy even caught sight of an armadillo.
"Hey! Listen to this," Missy explained. She was reading literature from the tourist book. "The word Okla means people and homma means red. Red people. It says here that there are more than 60 different Indian tribes living in the state. Can you believe it?"
Jess smiled and was relieved Missy finally had become talkative, almost exuberant. A change of scenery really could help. Now, if only Deek would wipe that scowl off his face. "Read us some more, Missy," she encouraged.
"Okay. Let’s see. Oh, this is interesting. Did you know that Oklahoma was originally set up for huge reservations in the early 1800’s when the government wanted to relocate Indians? They moved the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek and Seminole tribes from the southeast. It says that they became known as the Five Civilized Tribes."
"When did the white settlers decide to move in and take over?" Jess asked. She knew that many unfortunate Indians were shuffled around from state to state, losing acre upon acre of land, as soon as farmers and ranchers wanted to settle there. It was definitely a shameful part of their American history.