Nora (22 page)

“I ordered a new mattress,” he said, to her delight, “and new sheets.”

“That is an extravagance,” she said guiltily. “I could have washed—”

“With what?” he asked politely. “We have no pot to boil clothes in, no tubs to rinse them in, no lines to hang them on—for there are no trees here.”

She was horrified. He soothed her. “There is a laundry in town,” he assured her. “You will not have to wear soiled clothing.”

She looked worried just the same. “It will be expensive,” she said slowly, hesitant to offend him.

“Your concern for my pocket does you credit,” he said with a smile. “But we can manage. I have credit in town, you know.”

“Oh!” She brightened. “That makes it better.”

What she probably meant was that it made it under
standable that he was able to afford things. She hadn't asked him about his source of income, but he knew she wondered just the same. Soon he was going to have to tell her the truth.

 

T
HEY SETTLED IN ON THE SITE
. After the first few days, Nora felt more comfortable cooking on an open fire. She was good with stews, and even with biscuits once she mastered the art of cooking them on the fire. A cake was impossible, so she had Cal buy one at the bakery in town. They shared some of it with the men, whose own cooking seemed to leave much to be desired, considering their thinness.

The conditions were rough, and Nora had all she could do to keep warm at first. But the cabin was fairly tight, and she was careful to spend most of her time inside. She mended the curtains and did what she could to keep the living area spotless. He surprised her with little things for the cabin, like a new decorated glass kerosene lamp and a chair with a crocheted cushion. His thoughtfulness delighted her.

At night she curled close to Cal and slept comfortably and secure in his arms. He held her, but he never encouraged her further than that. He didn't kiss her these days, and when her hand strayed to his bare chest under the covers, he moved it away. She knew what he was trying to do. He didn't want to risk getting her pregnant. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to want to do anything short of it, either.

“You said that we would explore other ways of
pleasing each other,” she whispered daringly one night.

“And we will,” he said gently, kissing her eyes closed. “But not with my men camping on the porch.” He chuckled. “The rains came unexpectedly and soaked the ground. They would never be able to sleep in the mud, Nora, and without them, there will be no oil.”

“I know,” she groaned. “It is just…”

“Go to sleep. Try not to dwell on it. I know that you are bored here. Perhaps we might get some magazines. Would you like that?”

She smiled. “Yes. But I would like some colored thread and some crocheting hooks, please. And some yarn and knitting needles. I can do handiwork, if I have the materials. I might make you a sweater.”

“I never wear them,” he murmured.

“Then I shall knit you some socks,” she said, not to be outdone.

He wrapped her up against him. “Socks would be fine. Go to sleep.”

She closed her eyes. But, as usual, sleep was a long time coming.

The next day, all hell broke loose on the hill. Captain Lucas's well exploded into the sky late in the morning of January 10, 1901, and all the doomsayers shut up for good.

“He did it!” Cal cried from the porch, because he could see the plume of oil rising majestically into the sky. “By God, he did it, Nora—come and look! He
did it! There's oil there! Acres and acres and acres of oil!”

She came and stood beside him, watching the huge black gusher against the gray sky, with her arm around his lean waist.

“And we're right next door,” he said, waving to his crew. They were jumping up and down and dancing on their own rig. It was only a matter of time now, and they all knew it. If oil could be struck one place on the hill, it could be struck all around. The land Cal owned was money in the bank.

Pike's small eyes gleamed now with excitement. He got his reply back from Corsicana, and the men followed the instructions Drago had sent. As time passed, they went down and down and down.

Then, the first week of March, there was a sudden explosion inside the derrick. Nora had been washing out her smalls inside the house. She came onto the porch and stood watching, her hand shading her eyes from the sun.

Cal yelled something at Pike, who started backing away. All at once, mud began to spurt up the derrick. Pike slid down the ladder, followed at once by Cal, who was yelling at Mick and the others to get out of the way.

The men fell back, covered with mud, and still the sticky brown muck flew up and up. Then, all at once, what seemed tons of four-inch pipe joined the mud and started up through the derrick. The crown block went,
and the pipe started shooting up and landing stuck in the ground.

“Oh, no!” Nora whispered in anguish. She knew that Cal had invested heavily in this venture, and now it seemed that he was going to lose everything. Weeks of watching with him, hoping with him, were crumbling, just as the pipe and derrick that had been so expensive were now falling like tenpins. At least, thank God, Cal had gotten out of the way in time. If he'd been closer…It didn't bear thinking about! That falling pipe, in such huge amounts, would surely have killed him!

When it stopped, finally, Cal began cursing. He was so eloquent that Nora covered her ears, and he wasn't the only man on the place expressing his feelings about mud, derricks, pipe and prospective oil in graphic terms.

The men stomped back up to the derrick, seeing impossible figures to replace it. Captain Lucas's strike had boosted prices beyond belief, for everything from land to lumber.

Cal squatted down to look at a piece of pipe with furious silver eyes.

“My God,” he said heavily. “It will take thousands to replace all this. And then we'll have to start again, from scratch!”

“Hell of a shame, boss,” Pike said. He looked nervous. Really nervous. “What a hell of a shame!”

Mick was more vocal as he swung toward the remains of the derrick. He muttered all the way up to
it and turned to call his crew to start picking up the strewn materials.

He's just opened his mouth when there was an ominous rumble.

“Get the hell out of there, Mick!” Cal shouted.

The Irishman made it in the nick of time, as more mud came spewing out in a flood. But this time it didn't end with mud. The mud was followed by a column of gas. And that was followed within seconds…by a thick, green, solid flow…of
oil!

“Oil!” Mick screamed. His voice didn't even sound human. He held out his arms, and it covered him, oozed down his clothing into his shoes. “Oil, oil…!”

Cal had been holding his breath. Now he threw down his hat and ran into the flow with Mick. The two of them grabbed each other in bear hugs and then began to dance like two crazy people. Even reserved Pike joined in, along with the other men. Nora laughed and cried all at once as she realized what had happened. Cal's gamble had paid off. They were going to be very, very rich.

Cal saw her standing on the porch and ran up to grab her in a greasy bear hug, lifting her clear of the wooden flooring.

“We've done it,” he laughed. “We've done it, we've done it, Nora—we're set for life!”

“Yes, I know,” she laughed. She rubbed at the thick oil on his face, but he pulled her close and kissed her. She didn't seem to mind the taste of it, or the grime of
his body, so he kissed her again. And for a few glorious seconds, they were alone in a world of their own.

Then the landscape exploded with people, in buggies, on horseback, on foot from the camp around them. People came to exclaim over the well, to congratulate them, to offer suggestions.

While Cal and Nora answered the greetings, Pike was talking to a stranger in a suit and looking nervously toward the porch, where Cal was standing. Nora's eyes narrowed. Something very suspicious was going on. She hoped that Pike hadn't done anything in Cal's absence that would put a damper on this glorious triumph. She was going to have to talk to him about Pike.

She tried, when the bulk of the well-wishers had gone home, among them Captain Lucas himself.

“Listen, Cal,” she began while he was trying to wash some of the oil from his face. “About Pike…”

“What about Pike, dearest?” he murmured into his towel. “He's as delirious as the rest of us.”

“Did you see him talking to that man in the suit?”

“Hmmm,” he agreed, wiping at his eyes. “That was one of the new lawyers in town. I met him earlier. He and Pike are friends, that's all.”

Nora had an unpleasant feeling that friendship was not what had drawn those two men together. But not for all the world could she do anything to dampen Cal's spirits.

“This won't do at all,” he muttered when he saw the residue of oil that covered him. “Not that I'm complaining.” He chuckled when he saw the smudges he'd
left all over her. “But we'll never get clean in a basin. Come on. We'll check into a hotel and have proper baths in town. And then you and I and this crew are going to celebrate. In fact,” he added, swinging her gently around, “we're going to buy all the champagne in the saloon and drink ourselves right to heaven.”

“I don't drink,” she faltered.

“You will tonight,” he assured her, with a grin that made her head whirl. “Because we have just hit one of the biggest oil strikes in history. And there is no way I'm going to celebrate
that
without my wife!”

T
HE CELEBRATION WAS LOUD,
but nobody in the saloon seemed to mind, even when glasses were broken. Cal poured champagne and urged it on Nora, who felt conspicuous as the only woman in the place. Well, except for two women who had come in with the men. They were dressed in low-cut muslin dresses, and they had eyes as hard as their hands looked soft. They grinned at Nora, who grinned back even through her blushes.

“You wanted to know what they looked like,” Cal whispered in her ear. “Now you do.”

She hit at him.

“Drink up,” he challenged. He was relaxed and getting more so by the minute, his eyes glittery with pleasure as he watched his shy wife. Over two months of holding her without anything more ardent had taken its toll on him. If he hadn't had the arduous quest for oil to occupy him, he thought, he might have been
climbing walls or treeing the town by now. He wanted Nora desperately, but despite the gains in health she had made, he didn't want to put her at risk just yet. He'd made sure that she didn't have to do laundry or haul water from the well on the property or do anything except the very lightest of chores. She'd spent most of her time knitting and trying new recipes. He was truly astounded at the difference between the woman he'd married and the Nora who lived with him now. But there were things that hadn't changed, like her impish sense of humor and gallant spirit. He found himself more in love with her every day. He often wondered about her own feelings, but she'd become adept at hiding them most of the time. He'd been unkind to her. He didn't like to think that he might have killed any deeper feelings that she'd harbored before she lost the baby.

When he wasn't working, they'd spent time talking about general subjects, like the continuously changing situation in South Africa with the Boer War, and the death of Queen Victoria and the coronation of King Edward. She mentioned that she had been introduced to the monarch, and that she thought Victoria's death had a lot to do with the worry that stemmed from the Boxer Rebellion in China and the Boer uprising. Once he would have bristled at the reference to her superior social status. Now he only smiled indulgently.

It had amazed her how much time Cal had to spend on that rig. Someone had to watch it all the time, night and day, and he took not only his own shift, but
sometimes stayed even longer to help the men. There were times, Nora told him, when she thought she had married a ghost. That amused him, but she knew that what he was doing was for their future and she never complained. He found her quite complex, now that she was relaxed with him, and he enjoyed their talks and debates. She was equally comfortable discussing the political situation with McKinley's reelection and the price of eggs in town.

When he was free, on Sundays, they went to a Methodist church in Beaumont and had the midday meal in the boardinghouse where they stayed infrequently to have a bath and rest.

She had asked if his family was Methodist, and he assured her that they were. But she noticed that he did not like to speak of his family and that he became irritated if she asked questions about them. He hated being that way. It was just that his guilt was ever-present. Even though they had grown closer together, he worried about her eventual reaction, because one day she would have to know who he was and who his people were.

Meanwhile, he discovered that she had suffered frequent mishaps as a child, and that despite being pampered, she had an adventurous spirit. He spoke little of his own childhood, except to recall that it had been boisterous and he and his brothers had been happy. He wanted to tell her everything, including how close he and King had been and the misadventures they had shared. One day, he promised himself, he would.

“You are very deep in thought,” she said.

Drawn out of his contemplation, he smiled at her across the table. “And you are very pretty,” he said, watching her brighten at the compliment. “And uncomfortable?” he probed delicately.

She was sitting stiffly, glancing around as if she were afraid someone might see her here, in a saloon.

“Cal, I have lived such a stuffy life,” she confessed, laughing. “You must make a few allowances for me.”

“You're doing fine,” he said enthusiastically. “Except that you aren't drinking that champagne. It's the best they had. French, and of an excellent vintage.”

Often he came out with remarks like that. He knew things that should have been Greek to a working cowboy, like the fact that her hats came from Paris and what vintage a good wine, or champagne, was. He spoke quite intelligently about politics in the States and even overseas, and he was perfectly at home in the best restaurant in Beaumont, with table manners and charm that would have befitted royalty. He amazed Nora with his gifts. She had had no opportunity before to see how versatile he was, or how educated.

“I shouldn't know that, should I?” he murmured, a little less reserved than usual. He laughed at her expression. “Well, I wasn't always a cowboy,” he told her. “I've worked in oil fields and I've spent time in New York. I've even been overseas, over most of Europe, in fact, and not just when I was an army officer in Cuba.”

An officer! She hadn't known that.

“An officer?” she ventured, hoping to draw him out.

“I thought I was going to be a career man. I enlisted ten years before the Spanish-American War, two years after I went off to college, when I was young and full of vinegar. I rose to the rank of colonel and mustered out after the war was over.”

She was too impressed to be able to hide it. The revelation was shocking to a woman who'd accepted that her husband was an uneducated cowboy.

He smiled at her lazily. “Would you have liked being the wife of a career officer, I wonder? It would have suited you, giving afternoon teas and entertaining dignitaries from Washington.”

She flushed. “I like the oil business just as much,” she said stoutly. “And I even enjoyed ranching, just at the last.”

“You lie beautifully,” he accused softly.

Her hand lifted the glass to her lips and she sipped it. It had been a long time since she'd tasted champagne. She'd forgotten how smooth and fragrant a good vintage was. Her eyes closed and she murmured with delight.

“An excellent bouquet, is it not?” he asked as he finished his glassful. “I have not had better since Paris.”

She was learning a lot about her mysterious husband. He was traveled and he had been an officer, so perhaps he was in long enough to have been given a
pension. That would explain where he got the money to finance his oil well. But if he had gone to college, where had that money come from?

She looked around, frowning when she saw his crew. “Where is Mr. Pike?” she asked curiously, because she didn't see him with the celebrants.

“God knows. He's probably passed out and gone to his room.” He chuckled. “He'd better get back on his feet quick. It will take all of us to cap the damned thing.”

“I had forgotten that it would be necessary.”

“Yes, well, you can't pipe oil that's shooting up into the sky,” he mused.

“I did realize that,” she laughed. She let him fill her glass again, and she began to be more and more relaxed as she drank it.

Cal got quieter by the minute. He didn't seem to be a violent man in his cups, but he looked at her in a dark, brooding way that was very exciting. After her second glass and his third, he stood up suddenly and took her by the hand.

“Time we left,” he said, sweeping up his hat. “Say good-night.”

She called her goodbyes to the men, who were a little too happy to notice, and followed Cal out into the night air.

He took her back to the boardinghouse, up the stairs and into the room they'd rented. But for once, he didn't leave her to get ready for bed and then come in after
she was asleep. He locked the door and proceeded to undress her, with all the lights on.

“You mustn't!” she gasped, because it had been a long time indeed since he'd looked at her, and she was shy.

He laughed deep in his throat. “Do you want the lights out?” he chided.

“Well…yes!”

“All right, chicken.”

He turned out the gas lamps and then stumbled back to her in the darkness, laughing a little unsteadily.

“Cal, you said that we wouldn't,” she began.

He pulled her to him and his mouth found hers. Even in his less than sober condition, he was tender and expert. She leaned into his tall body and felt his hands slide up to cup and caress her full breasts. She, too, was less than sober. He eased her down onto the bed and, between kisses, removed every stitch of clothing, first from her body, and then from his own. Then he proceeded to make her mindless with an uninhibited ardor that he'd never shown her before.

By the time he moved over her, she was totally receptive to him, her legs parted eagerly, her body lifting to accept the deep, slow, aching penetration of his.

He murmured something sharply and drew in his breath as he felt her absorb him in her warmth. He felt for her mouth in the darkness, and his breath jerked into her lips as he levered up and began to move on her taut body.

All at once, the abstinence and his need broke through the reserve he'd always shown her. He groaned harshly and his hands gripped her hips. He whispered things that brought the blood to his face, and suddenly there was a violence of passion in him that would have frightened her only months before. Now it kindled a heat that was startling in its suddenness and intensity.

He drove into her like a wild man, his hands touching her in ways he'd never touched her, his mouth on her breasts, on her lips, as he rolled over and back again with her body joined to his, pulling and pushing and dragging her against him until she was mindless with desire.

She pleaded with him for some relief from the agony of hunger he made her feel, her voice high-pitched and sobbing at the last.

He stopped, poised just above her, his breath coming quick and ragged while he waited.

“Please,” she sobbed, shivering as she tried to lift, to bring him back. “Oh…please…I can't…live…if you stop!” she wailed.

He whispered to her, his voice a deep drawl in the silence of the room as he told her graphically what he meant to do. She whispered back, shocking things, provocative things. Her body arched slowly until her spine was strained, and she shivered as she felt him begin to lever down over her. She wished that she hadn't wanted the lamps out, because she wanted to see his face. She wanted to see his eyes.

“No!” he said jerkily when she tried to engulf him. His hand caught her hip and stayed its movement. “No. Lie still.”

“I can't!” she whispered desperately, gritting her teeth as the tension grew beyond bearing.

“You can,” he said into her mouth as he lifted again. “I'm going to take you breath by aching breath. Just…like…this.”

“Oh, I want you,” she sobbed, clinging.

“Arch your hips to mine, very, very slowly,” he bit off. He eased down, stopped, listened to her sobbing breaths. He moved again. It was killing him, too, but he knew, as she didn't yet, the violence of completion it was going to give them both.

“Cal,” she wept.

“Lift up,” he whispered. “Just a little, sweetheart, just a little. Wait, now. Don't move.”

“Please,” she whimpered, shivering. “Oh, please!”

He felt her fingernails biting helplessly into his shoulders. He knew to the second when she was going to go over the edge, and when he felt her control go completely, he pushed down, as hard as he could.

There were no words for what she felt then. She cried out hoarsely, stiffened, and abruptly lost consciousness in a burst of hot pleasure that surpassed anything she'd ever experienced in her entire life.

Poised on the edge, Cal went over with her, his body clenching with anguished pleasure. He laughed harshly and groaned, his voice loud in her ears as he convulsed
over her. It never seemed to end, the wash of helpless ecstasy that tensed and released, tensed and released, until he was one long throb of satiation.

Nora was gasping for breath when the spinning stopped and he could make his lungs work. Under him, her body was trembling and damp with sweat. He could feel the heat of it like a brand, and he smiled, exhausted. He couldn't even move off her, for the exquisite fatigue he felt.

“Like dying,” he whispered drowsily. “Too much pleasure for even a saint to bear. So good, Nora, my darling. The sweetest sensation I've ever felt in my life!”

She clung to him, her face buried in his hot throat as she came back to awareness. He slumped, and she felt his breathing grow deep and steady. He had fallen asleep, but his weight was precious, delightful. She held him to her, her body still locked to his intimately, and after a minute, she, too, fell asleep.

 

S
OMETIME DURING THE NIGHT
, they had separated and gotten under the covers. Cal woke up first when the light came in the window, groaning as he felt the size of his head. Only three glasses of champagne, but they had been big glasses and on an empty stomach. He tried to sit up and took two tries managing it.

He moved, aware of a faint soreness that carried more than a trace of remembered pleasure. His eyes turned to the other side of the bed and he went very still.

Nora was lying beside him, totally naked, with the sheet thrown off and her body open to his eyes. He had had her in the night. It took no second-guessing to know it. She was smiling in her sleep, and when he moved, her body writhed sensuously, as if in memory of the explosive culmination he'd given them both.

His first, terrifying thought was that there could be a child. He was obviously fertile, and what they had shared, even with the alcohol to enhance it, had been unique in his experience. He could not remember one single encounter that had dealt him such a devastating climax.