Oklahoma's Gold (19 page)

"Yes. Yes, it was." She brushed back the loose strands of hair from her cheek. "But I'll go back someday," she added. "I made myself that promise."

Daniel saw the look of determination in her eyes and realized she meant it. His feelings were confused. On the one hand, there was compassion, wanting her to achieve her goals. After all, he had sprouted his own wings that way when he'd gone east to attend Michigan State a few years ago. Yet, he was experiencing jealousy, feeling left out of an important part of her future. He shrugged it off. Why should he care? It was her life, he admitted. "I wish you the best." It was stupid and awkward, but it was the only thing he could think of to say. He was relieved to see that she just nodded her head in response, not noticing his uneasiness.

"Oh! Here's something interesting," she exclaimed, quickly changing the subject. "It's a local history account of famous land developers of the twentieth century. I wonder. Who would belong to this group? I mean, anybody we'd find interesting? Do you know, Daniel?"

"Well, yeah. That's easy enough. Miss Emma's granddaddy, John Wallace, was probably the biggest mover and shaker back in the thirties and forties, especially during the oil boom."

"I didn't realize Miss Emma came from that kind of wealth. She just doesn't come off acting or sounding that way, you know?"

"That's probably because her daddy, Emmit, was more down to earth and really didn't care much about the money, even though he had plenty of it. Emma grew up with that."                   

"Sounds like he was a really wonderful man."

"People around here respected him a great deal. It was hard not to."

"What about John Wallace? Did people respect him?" Jess was curious to know.

Daniel smiled and shook his head. "That's a story I think I'll let Miss Emma tell." Then, he added quickly, before Jess could speak, "Now what does that history book have to say?"

Jess began leafing through the pages when a small card fell from the book on to her lap. "What's this?" She read quickly and looked up at Daniel, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Well? What does it say, Jess?"         

"There are page numbers and a name." She handed the card to Daniel.

He looked at it only briefly, then turned it over to the other side. "Well, well, well. I think maybe we have our first major clue." He pointed to another name, engraved on the front. "Lucas Martin Realty on this side and John Wallace on the other. Now there's a match."

"Oh, Daniel. Do you think …?"

"Yeah, I think. And I'd bet these page numbers are references to information about J.W.'s land deals." A quick look through the book proved him right. Now they had to decide what they could do with their discovery. Confronting Lucas didn't seem wise. He'd just deny looking at the book. Claim it was someone else just using one of his business cards.

"Might as well get going. We can check this out. Maybe after reading through it, we'll figure out what Lucas found so interesting about John Wallace's business."

They had started to gather their belongings to leave when a loud commotion coming from the circulation desk area caught their attention. Daniel recognized Joseph Whitedeer first and was surprised to notice him arguing very loudly with the librarian. It seemed she was asking, then demanding he leave the building and take his drunken, unruly behavior with him. Joseph, of course, was ignoring her firm request, instead repeating his explanation of how he was looking for someone he had been told had come here. Just then, his search brought him around to catch Daniel in his vision. His eyes widened and he quickly, though awkwardly, walked away from the irate librarian, who continued her tirade against Joseph's presence in her domain.

Daniel grabbed Jess' sleeve and under his breath warned, "Watch out." Then he braced himself as Joseph came closer, pointing and shaking his finger.

"You! You and the rest of your friends. All your fault. It's all your fault," he mumbled and slurred incoherently, heavily influenced by the alcohol.

"I don't understand what—look, we should probably go outside and talk." Daniel tried to reason.

"I don't want to talk to you. Don't you all understand? I want you to leave me alone," he cried, covering his face then with both his hands and sobbed, "She left me. Took the boys and went to her mother's." He looked up at them now. His eyes were bloodshot and reflected what seemed a pitiful, tortured soul.

He stood staring at them for almost a minute in silence when Jess noticed how he began clenching and unclenching his fists. The mournful look soon smoldered into anger and his mouth opened to emit a low-pitched howl as he suddenly charged into Daniel without warning.

The attack knocked both of them into a shelf, causing books to fall, some landing squarely on Jess with a painful thud. She stepped clear of the mess and of Joseph. He seemed determined to vent his anger on Daniel who tried holding him off without fighting back. Jess began to yell for help, when just as suddenly as his anger came, it left. Joseph's eyes, drained of their fire, transformed to a dull shine void of all emotion. He hung his head low, shaking from side to side.

"Don't you see? I've lost everything. Everything." He began to slowly walk away; his shoulders slumped over in defeat.

He looked so hopeless to Jess. It tore her apart not knowing how to help. "Maybe we could talk to her for you, Mr. Whitedeer. You know, try to explain," she called out after him.

He shook his head and kept on walking. "It's too late."

She began to say something else, but Daniel held her back with a warning glance.

"Let him go, Jess." Enough commotion had occurred for one day, he realized.

So instead, they both began to clear the floor where literally hundreds of books were strewn about. Jess piled them in neat stacks on a table nearby. Unfortunately, they would have to be reshelved by the librarian. It would take hours. Jess felt distraught and guilty. They went about their work in silence, each thinking over and analyzing the recent fiasco. Every once in awhile, Jess would glance at the title of a book she was holding. One in particular caught her interest so she sat down to take a closer look. It wasn't really out of the ordinary. Like many others, the pages were bound in well-worn leather with dog-eared, frayed corners. What was unusual though about this one is that Jess had not found a number on the binding, and even more surprising, no title on the front. As she opened to the front page, gritty dust fell from the book, decayed bits and pieces of yellow paper suggesting the book was quite old. Centered in writing were the faded words, "Personal Journal of Martha Jane Thomas: 1937-1947". As she puzzled over her discovery, Jess carefully turned the first few pages. Sure enough, though the writing was faint, there were journal entries in the same handwriting as the first page, some lengthy, others very brief. The author would religiously enter at least some words every day for a week, then skip a week, sometimes a couple months.

Jess’ prolonged silence finally caught Daniel's attention. "Jess?" She seemed totally absorbed in looking at one of the books. "Did you find something?"

"I think I did." It sounded almost as much a question as a statement. She intently concentrated on the pages before her, scanning quickly over some, stopping to read others in detail. "Is Martha Jane Thomas any relation to Miss Emma?" Jess asked, looking up at Daniel.

Thrown by her question, he didn't answer for several seconds. "Why yes. She was Miss Emma's mother," he finally explained.

"Well, it seems this is her diary," Jess announced as she held it out for Daniel to see.

Daniel took the journal in hand and began to open it.

"Careful," Jess warned anxiously. "The pages are starting to fall apart."

So taking each delicately between his finger and thumb Daniel slowly looked through the personal document. "Hmm. Nineteen thirty-seven. That was the year Miss Emma was born, I think." He then looked closely at the first entry. "Seems Martha started this when her baby was just days old."            

"Daniel? I was wondering," Jess interrupted. "Why does Miss Emma never talk about her mother? I mean, she mentions lots about her dad. Why is that?" Jess was thinking back on all the cozy conversations that Emma and she had had, sitting in the kitchen at breakfast time or swinging on the porch in the evening. Emma's reminiscence of her childhood always brought a warm glow to the woman's face. Learning to fly fish with her dad; riding the range on Midnight, her first horse, with her dad; going to town in the old Ford pickup to buy supplies sitting next to her dad; roping her first calf, cheered on by her dad. The list, Jess realized, went on and on, but never once did Martha come into the picture.

Her face would sadden as she recounted events of the last years with the ailing Emmit Thomas. Feeding, washing, reading—she did everything for him out of love, devotion and caring, never once faltering from her task. She loved him as life itself. And so much of her died when he was finally gone. Emma herself admitted this. Yet, not once did she mention her mother.

"Martha Thomas left Emmit and little Emma Jane, as well as her baby brother, when, well, when this ends actually, in nineteen forty-seven. Miss Emma was only ten," Daniel explained. "And then Clay, Emma's brother, he died shortly after Caleb was born. Been a lot of tragedy in that family."

"She must have been heartbroken," Jess cried. "Do you know why her mother left?"

"Not really. Just that one morning, Miss Emma came down to breakfast, and instead of her mother standing at the stove frying eggs she found Emmit there. When she asked, 'Where's mama?' Emmit told her she was gone, never coming back and they were, in his words, 'never to mention her name ever again'. And that was the last time they talked about her."

"How tragic!" They were the only words Jess could think to respond with and then everything she'd been told began to sink in. "Has there ever been any talk, any speculation about why she left like that? So suddenly?"

Daniel shook his head. "Nope. Plenty of ugly rumors went flying around town though. How there might have been another man, or that maybe she went crazy and had to be committed. But of course there were no facts to back them up."

"And never a word from her?" Jess asked.

"No, not directly anyway. Seems about twenty-some years ago, they received a newspaper clipping in the mail from a Chicago newspaper. It was an obituary on a Martha Jane Thomas born 1917, died 1979 at the age of sixty-two. Living relations unknown. Oddly enough, it was only several weeks after that when Emmit had his final stroke." Daniel looked up at Jess. "Like he knew she was really gone this time and he wanted to follow."

"Did they know who sent it?"

"No return address and nothing else in the envelope."

"How strange and how sad."

"It is, and Miss Emma never said a word after she read it. Not to her father. Not to anyone."

"Then how did …?" she asked, but didn't need to finish the question.

"Cora. She had been working for the Thomas’s for nearly five years by then. She found the obituary on the floor of Miss Emma's bedroom when she was cleaning. So, she kept it safe in her own room, tucked away in a drawer. She didn't share the news with anyone for years. Finally, she opened up to Mac Yearling and to your Uncle Fred, the two closest friends Emma has. Even they have never let on they know."