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Authors: A Place Called Rainwater

Dorothy Garlock (4 page)

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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“I guess so. Why don't they go home? ”

“You haven't been here long, have you? Home might be a tent out at the rigging or a tarpaper shack thrown up as a bunkhouse.” He chuckled. “They need to come to town once in a while and let off steam.”

“Most of them are decent hardworking men, lonesome for their families.” Jill was surprised to hear a belligerent tone in Martha's voice.

“You are right there, ma'am. There are a few, however, who spoil it for the others.”

“Do you know the reason for the meeting? ”Jill asked.

“I think the mayor has some grandiose ideas for turning Rainwater into a thriving metropolis.” Hunter smiled down at Jill. His eyes stayed on her profile long after she had looked away.

The two-story frame school building was newer than Jill had expected. A dozen men sat on folding chairs when they entered the room where the meeting was to be held, and Jill, glad that she had made an extra effort to look nice, became the focus of their attention.

“Gentlemen, you know Mrs. Caine. This is Miss Jones.” Hunter took Jill's elbow and steered her forward. “She is taking over the management of the Byers Hotel for her aunt. As you know, Mrs. Byers is not well.”

Jill tried to keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise as the man whom she had met a mere five minutes ago explained her presence.

“Miss Jones, this is our mayor, Orvis Henshaw,” Hunter said smoothly. “He is the owner of one of our dry goods and grocery stores.”

“How do you do? ”The man stood and Jill offered her hand.

Hunter continued with the introductions. “Mr. Langley from the barbershop; Mr. Stevens, the owner of another one of the grocery stores; and Mr. Burns, here, is the druggist. Mr. Fields and Mr. Grover are the proprietors of the recreation parlors, and Mr. Holder and Mr. Parson, along with Mrs. Caine ”— he nodded toward Martha — “run our eating establishments.” Hunter continued around the room and included the two men and one woman who had come in during the introductions. One of the men was a lawyer with a huge red birthmark on his face and one was the city treasurer. The woman ran the bakery.

“How do you do? ”Jill said to all. “I'll not remember all your names, but I'm glad to meet you.” She sat down quickly beside Martha.

The meeting started with the mayor expressing his appreciation to those who came. He was a robust man in his mid-forties with thin hair parted in the middle and a thick mustache with the ends waxed to turn upward.

“There are two things I'd like to discuss tonight. The main one is how we are going to keep our town alive after the boom. We've enjoyed the boom since the gusher came in out on Kelly's place. I'm not an oilman, but from what I've seen and what I've read about other boom-towns, our oil will last only a few years. I'd like to have some type of industry ready to take its place when it's gone.”

“There's no reason to think the town will die any time soon, ”Hunter interjected quietly. “The wells surrounding the town will be pumping for years.”

“That may be, Westfall, but how many men does it take to keep wells pumping when the derricks are gone and the tanks are built? ”

“There is equipment to be moved, oil to be transported, pipelines to be built. And don't forget the possibility of gas wells here in this area. Oklahoma's natural gas is in demand now. Think about the demand as the population grows.”

“I hadn't heard there were plans for a pipeline.” The comment came from the lawyer behind Jill.

“Rainwater isn't Tulsa, but a cross-country pipeline isn't out of the realm of possibility.” Hunter's compelling eyes paused on Jill as he surveyed the room. His manner was daunting, if for no other reason than his air of self-confidence. His features were calm, his lips unsmiling. Sideburns framed his face and thick brown hair waved back from his forehead.

“Does anyone else have anything to say on this subject? ”the mayor asked.

“I agree with you, Orvis.” Mr. Burns, the grocer, lifted his hand to get attention. “When the boom passes, my business will be cut by half, if not more.”

“You'll still have business from the ranchers. And another thing that will keep the town going is the railroad. The tracks won't be removed just because some of the wells are capped.” A hint of impatience was evident in Hunter's voice.

“I'm not sure the ranchland around here will survive the oil boom.” The lawyer spoke again. He was a man in his mid-twenties. Jill felt a wave of pity. He would be nice-looking without the blood-red mark, the shape of a palm, that reached from the corner of his eye across his cheek to his nose.

“The 101 Ranch over near Claremore seems to have adapted to modern-day ranching and farming.” Jill noted a muscle jumping in Hunter's jaw, even as he responded quietly.

“There are more oil wells out there on the prairie than prairie dog holes. A law should be passed to make the oil companies more responsible for the land they spoil.” The lawyer appeared to be enjoying the argument. “They lease a few acres of land and ruin a hundred with overflow and leaking tanks.”

“The owners don't have to lease, ”Hunter argued smoothly. “Let those who want to make a piddly living off the grass keep it.”

“If a ranch doesn't lease, a company will set up a derrick nearby and, using the whipstocking technique, drain off the oil from under his land. Who can tell where the oil is coming from out of a fourteen-thousand-foot hole? ”

Jill watched and listened closely. Hunter Westfall had an air of power that only money could engender. She was curious about him. The others, except for the lawyer with the birthmark, seemed to kowtow to him.

“We don't seem to be getting anywhere with this.” The mayor's words brought Jill back to the matter at hand. “My other concern is our streets. We need to do something about them. Every time it rains we have a quagmire. We can't afford pavement, so I suggest we grade and oil them. We have four companies drilling near here. They should be willing to donate the oil.”

“I'll take care of Main Street, Orvis. I'll have a couple of my men drag it to soften it up, then apply the oil. It will mean blocking it off for a couple of days until the oil soaks in.”

“Thanks, Mr. Westfall. That'll go a long way toward holding down dust.”

“By the way, Mayor, do I need a permit to build a dance hall? I own a chunk of property south of town. I've been thinking about developing it into an amusement park of sorts, with a dance hall, a roller-skating rink and a few rides.”

“The county license to run the hall, the rink and the rides will cost you five dollars each.”

“Better think about it, Mayor, ”the lawyer said. “Christian folks in this town won't want that park open on Sunday.”

“We'll take that up when the time comes, Madison.” The mayor stood. “I guess that's all, unless someone has other business they want to discuss.”

Jill stood beside the door and waited for Martha, who had made a beeline for the woman who had come in late, a short, heavyset woman with a pleasant face. She noticed the young lawyer eyeing her, but he didn't make an effort to speak to her. After chatting with the woman for a few minutes, Martha brought her over and introduced her to Jill.

“Flora runs the bakery, ”Martha explained.

“Hello, Jill. I've been wanting to come over for another visit with Justine. The last time I was there you had gone uptown and I missed you. How is she? ”

“She stays in bed most of the time.”

“Ah, law.” Flora's homely face showed concern. “This has been comin 'on for a while. I'm glad she's got some of her folks with her.”

“Let's go while the oil king is busy bending the ear of the mayor.” Martha urged Jill out the door. When they got outside, she said, “I think you've got a beau if you want one. It seems that Mr. Westfall has taken a shine to you.”

“What are you talking about? ”Then, “Oh, no. He was just being nice.”

“Mr. Westfall is never nice unless it's going to benefit Mr. Westfall.”

“Listen to Martha, honey.” Flora glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was behind them. “He's had a number of women come to visit, then suddenly you don't see them around anymore, ”she added in a low voice.

“Why did you call him the oil king? ”Jill asked.

Martha answered, “He owns more than half of the wells around town and is trying to buy up the other half by putting pressure on the small companies.”

“The mayor seems to like him.”

“He has no choice. He could pull out and take his business to Tulsa or some other place.”

“His wells would still be here.”

“He owns the water well-drilling business, a truck line, two gas stations and other companies that employ a lot of people in town.”

“Where does he live? ”

“He spends a lot of time in Tulsa, but he owns that big square brick house two streets over from the hotel. It doesn't look like much on the outside, but they say it's very nice on the inside. He has a colored couple working for him.”

“The one who stands up to him is Mr. Madison. He's such a nice man. Pity he has that
thing
on his face.” Flora clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “He would be a fine catch for a girl if she could look past that horrible red mark.”

“It doesn't seem to bother him, ”Jill said.

“He's probably used to it.”

“I don't know how Mr. Westfall plans to run a dance hall, ”Flora said, looking at the men idling on the street. “There's only one woman for every four men in town and most of them are attached. He'll have to bring in a bunch of loose women to dance with the men. The first thing you know, they'll open a whorehouse.” She whispered the last two words.

It was almost dark. The streets were even more crowded than they had been before. Flora said her goodbyes and turned toward her home behind the bakery. Jill and Martha proceeded down the walk past the stores. Men loitered on the street, leaned against the parked cars or sat on the edge of the plank walk. Music came from the recreational parlors and loud voices from the pool hall.

Beneath a streetlight at a crossing, two brawny men were leaning over the hood of a car engaged in a contest of arm wrestling. The men who gathered around them were shouting encouragement and making bets. Before Martha and Jill realized it, they were hemmed in by the crowd.

“Here's the wildcat.” The voice was loud and close to Jill. “How about a kiss for the winner, wildcat? ”

Jill shoved at the body of a half-drunk, whiskered man. “Get out of my way.”

“Fun is fun, but that's enough, ”Martha said crossly when another man threw out the suggestion of a kiss.

“Ah, come on, wildcat. You'll not miss one little kiss and old Sully'll strain his guts out to win.”

The crowd was pushing Jill and Martha closer and closer to where the two straining men were bent over the hood of the mud-splattered, topless car, and anger began to replace Jill's panic. She turned and lashed out at the man behind her.

“Stop pushing me, you mangy polecat! ”Anger made her voice loud and shrill.

“Whoa! ”The grinning man threw up his hands in surrender but didn't budge an inch. “Simmer down, little sweetheart. No one will lay a hand on you. Promise Sully a kiss and I'll split my winnings with you if he wins.”

“I'd sooner kiss a warthog! Get out of my way, or I'll slap your jaws! ”

Hoots of laughter from the men followed her words. She looked around for Martha and realized they had been separated and that she was as much of the show as the contestants.

“Slap my jaws, honey. I ain't had 'em slapped since I left home.”

“Say you'll kiss old Sully if he wins, wildcat, ”a man yelled, then he bellowed gleefully. “She nodded, Sully. She'll kiss ya! ”

“I did no such thing. I will not! ”Jill shouted, then balled her fist and hit the man nearest to her on the jaw.

“Wow! The wildcat's got a temper! Hey— ”His words were cut off when Jill's other fist landed on his nose. Her foot lashed out and struck another man on the shin. Having been raised on a Missouri farm with three brothers, Jill knew how to use her fists and her feet.

“Filthy hogs! Low-down, pig-ugly varmints! Get away from me.”

Jill was too busy yelling and lashing out to see that roughneck after roughneck was being shoved aside by a tall, dark-haired, sun-browned man with long arms and a fierce scowl on his face.

“Jill.” The voice reached her at the same time the man did. “What the hell are you doing out here on the street brawling like a common slut? ”

“Now, wait, mister. She's not — ”When the man she had just hit opened his mouth to defend her, the front of his shirt was grabbed in a huge fist and he was pushed so hard that he staggered into the group behind him.

“Stay out of this! ”

Angry eyes moved back to Jill. The hand that had gripped the shirt came out to latch on to her arm.

Jill was unable to believe who was standing over her with rage radiating from him. Dark brows were drawn together above green eyes. As she watched, his frown deepened and the muscle in one lean cheek jumped in response to his clenched teeth. Further thought was snatched from her as suddenly she was sandwiched between two tall men.

“Get your hand off her! ”Hunter Westfall's voice was not loud.

“Or what, dude? ”

“One word from me and these men will break both your arms and your legs, ”Hunter answered quietly.

“No! ”Jill suddenly came to life. “He's a friend from home.” Pride forced her to add, “Sort of.”

“Jill, ”Hunter said patiently, “a gentleman doesn't call his friends sluts.”

“He didn't understand what was going on.” Jill pulled on the hand still clamped to her arm.

“You don't do your own dirty work. Is that it, dude? ”The tone of voice was clearly insulting.

“Not if I don't have to.”

“Well, send your bully boys in. After finding Jill here making a spectacle of herself, I'm in the mood to tear up a few of your dumb-ass flunkies.” His teeth snapped together.

“Thad Taylor, you shut up! ”Jill shouted. “Thank you, Mr. Westfall, for thinking that I needed help. Thad is a friend of…my folks from back home. Come on, Thad, or I'll slap you into tomorrow.”

Hunter hesitated, looking from Jill to the big angry man beside her and wondering what claim he had on her. He seemed to be pretty sure of himself.

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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