Runabout (12 page)

}The young man's chuckle was almost lost on the howl of the thunder. "Are you speaking to me, Queenie?"

}"Who else is there, Crazy Horse?" she snapped. It was the worst of all possible luck to be in the silliest, most embarrassing position of her entire life and to have it witnessed by pigheaded, know-it-all Arthel Briggs!

}"What are you waiting for, Cochise!" Maybelle screeched at the young man standing above her in the mud. "Do you have a war party coming over the hill?"

}Squatting down beside her, Arthel smiled and looked self-satisfied. "Cochise? Geronimo?" He shook his head with feigned resignation. "Well, Queenie, I sure hope one of those fellows comes by soon to rescue you." He gestured to the soiled front of her dress. " 'Cause you're going to get pretty damned cold and wet waiting here in the mud."

}At her puzzled expression, Arthel saluted her smartly.

}"Have a nice evening, Miss Maybelle," he said as he rose to his feet and began walking off into the darkness.

}For a moment she just stared after him.

}"Wait!" Maybelle called out finally. He kept walking. "Come back here!" she screamed.

}He didn't even pause.

}Trying to rise to her knees, Maybelle only managed to slip in the mud one more time. There was a loud ripping sound.

}"Oh, no," she moaned. The back of the skirt had separated from the bodice.

}Her lips were still pursed in a pretty pout, but out of necessity, she swallowed her pride. "Arthel!" she yelled. "Arthel! Please! Please come back and help me."

}He stopped in his tracks, and a moment later he was back beside her, grinning as widely as the winner of a pie-eating contest.

}"Always eager to help out the queen."

}Grasping Maybelle around the waist, he lifted her back onto her throne.

}"Just look at this mess," she complained. The rain was still coming down furiously and she looked like a wilted orchid the day after the ball.

}Arthel was working to pull the remaining nails free of the gown. "This was some neat trick," he noted calmly.

}Maybelle clenched her fists and growled like a mad dog. "When I get my hands on Titus—" she threatened.

}"It wasn't just Titus," Arthel said matter-of-factly. "I saw Clark Wyse and Jimmy Trey Sparrow with him."

}Maybelle's eyes widened with fury. "You
saw
them nailing my dress to the floor!"

}Her expression was pure fire. Realizing immediately that he'd said the wrong thing, Arthel tried to soothe her.

}"I didn't know it was going to rain," was his defense.

}"You!" Maybelle was so filled with rage she almost tripped again.

}"Arthel Briggs!" she screamed.

}The ripping sound this time was louder than the thunder.

}"Well, at least you are free," he told her as he handed her the entire back part of her dress.

}

}The parsonage was still dark when Tulsa May pulled up under the elm tree at the far side of the porch.

}"Come on inside," she told Luther. "Let me make you some warm tea before you have to head back out in this weather."

}He gratefully accepted her offer and they made a dash to the porch. Luther shook the water out of the black muslin umbrella cover as Tulsa May opened the door.

}"We'd best take our tea in the kitchen," she told him. "As wet as we are, Mama'd have a fit if we sat in her parlor."

}"The kitchen is fine with me. The first time I ever talked to you was in a kitchen."

}"That's right," she said as she led him toward the back of the house. "With all that happened, I'm surprised you even remember that."

}When they reached the kitchen, she turned away from him to hang her soaked hat on a peg to dry. The fancy red feather she'd won on the merry-go-round was clearly ruined, but she left it tucked in the hatband just the same.

}Luther watched with pleasure as she took down the tea things from the cupboards. It was a comforting sight. "Of course I remember. It was the only good thing that happened to me that day."

}She turned her head sharply in surprise. Their eyes met for only a moment before he turned his attention to the stove, opening the grate to stoke the wood. "When Mrs. Puser came down to say Miss Maimie didn't want us, our own grandmother didn't want us"—Luther shook his head as he stared at the red coals in the fire—"it was the unhappiest moment of my life. Worse than Mammy dying, worse than Papa dying. After all..." He grabbed a stick of wood from the box and shoved it onto the sparking blaze. "They hadn't chosen to die. They couldn't help leaving us. Miss Maimie
chose
to send us away."

}There was a quiet silence between them as Tulsa May, her brow furrowed, pumped water for the kettle. "She regretted it, Luther," she told him. "I think right away she regretted it. That's why she always kept her eye on you, always wanted to know what you were doing. That's why she hired you to work for her."

}Luther made his way to the far end of the kitchen. Hands in his pockets, he gazed unseeing out the windowpane where streaks of spring rain ran in rivulets down the glass. "She kept her eye on me," he agreed. "But not Arthel." He turned and walked to the table, sitting down in a ladderback chair. "She never cared about Arthel, because Arthel looked like Mammy. Arthel was Indian."

}There was no humor in his grin. "But not me, I was a little gift from God: I'm a ringer for Luther Briggs. Yep, lucky me, I take after my daddy, blue-eyed, good-looking, squaw-man Luther Briggs. And Miss Maimie." He shook his head. "That old woman loved her errant son. She wanted him back. She wanted
her
Luther Briggs. She never gave a damn about me, Luther."

}Tulsa May turned to him. "Is that why you gave all the money away?"

}He gazed silently at his muddy shoe. When Miss Maimie died, the whole community was surprised at the reading of her will. Luther was her hired chauffeur, and never by any word or action had she ever acknowledged the boy as anything but her employee. But in her will, she claimed him as her only blood relation and left all of her money and property, every bit of it, to Luther.

}"Yes, that's why, Tulsy," he admitted quietly to her. " 'Cause she left it to
me
instead of Arthel and me."

}He took a long deep breath as if releasing his anger.

}"We didn't need her help!"

}Luther's head jerked up as if he had every intention of saying more. But his expression suddenly changed. His eyes wide, his mouth open, he stared.

}"What is it?"

}Luther made a little choking sound and attempted to clear his throat. But he did not look away.

}Tulsa May followed the direction of his gaze and stared too. Her crepe de chine bodice and the white muslin camisole beneath were both dripping wet, plastered against her body as if she were completely naked. The shape of her breasts were not disguised in any way and her dark nipples stood in stark relief to the paleness of the surrounding skin.

}"Oh!" Tulsa May immediately folded her arms across her bosom. Blushing furiously, she looked up in horror and shame at Luther, still sitting stunned at the table.

}With some difficulty, he dropped his glance finally to the floor and loudly cleared his throat. "Is that tea about ready, Tulsa May? It's getting late and I should be getting home." He shifted awkwardly in his chair as if he were sitting in a clump of bull nettles. "I wonder where your parents are?"

}His bland comments gave Tulsa May a moment to recover her wits. She grabbed her mother's bib apron from the hook near the door and hastily slipped it on. "I'll have that tea for you in one minute," she told him with deliberate cheerfulness. Her hands were fumbling as she tried to tie her sash.

}The silence in the kitchen was almost tangible. Tulsa May was beyond mere shame, she was furious at herself. Other women always seemed to have the good sense to glance in the mirror, so that they knew to straighten their ruffles or fluff their skirts. Tulsa May always avoided mirrors and this humiliation was the price that she paid. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

}She chanced a quick glance toward Luther. Oh, how she must have embarrassed him. To have to see a woman sticking out like that, especially a woman who was his best friend. How awkward for him! How mortifying for her!

}She shook her head, still horrified. First she'd spent the whole evening bouncing her bosom against him on the dance floor and then she'd practically shown him her naked breasts. It was too distressing to even think about.

}Fortunately, the water began to boil and she could concentrate on making tea. She kept her eyes determinedly on her task and didn't glance in his direction until the tea was steeping.

}"Here we are," she said, smiling brightly at him, hoping to dispel the tense atmosphere.

}"Thank you," he answered cordially.

}She seated herself across from him at the table and smiled with determined nonchalance as she struggled to think of a fit subject for conversation.

}"Didn't little Maybelle look pretty tonight?"

}Luther raised his gaze from the walnut wood grain of the kitchen table. "She is a pretty girl, all right," he answered. Then with a grin he added, "Pretty spoiled."

}They chuckled lightly for a moment since they both recalled Maybelle's childhood reputation for tantrums and tirades.

}"She's sweet though, inside, and she will grow out of that pettiness."

}He shrugged in tacit agreement.

}She could think of nothing further to say about the Spring Blossom Queen.

}"The merry-go-round was such fun." Tulsa May tried again. "I could have gone round and round forever. And then to catch the ring!" Her enthusiasm brightened her face attractively.

}"The rain didn't do that feather much good," Luther pointed out.

}Tulsa May glanced toward the dripping hat. "It does seem a bit worse for the weather," she admitted as she gazed at its sodden disrepair. "But I'm sure it will dry perfectly fine."

}"You are being optimistic again," he said, teasing her.

}"Guilty," she confessed, but she still did not quite feel as comfortable with him as she had before.

}"Try to think of something not so cheerful," he challenged. "I dare you to come up with three discouraging thoughts."

}"Hmm—" Tulsa May looked deliberately thoughtful. "Well, I suspect nearly every new spring dress in Prattville will have to be laundered tomorrow."

}"That's probably true," he agreed.

}"And I suspect Woody Sparrow will have a tremendous bellyache tonight."

}"If he doesn't he should have."

}"And I think that I will, in the near future, hear several sermons about the evils of dancing."

}Luther laughed out loud. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

}"Yes," she answered quietly.

}"I'll have to take you again sometime."

}Tulsa May was very conscious that Luther looked straight into her eyes as they talked and did not allow his gaze to stray for even one minute downward to where the apron now covered her. His determination to look only into her eyes was almost as disconcerting as having him looking at her bosom.

}"I understand that you've bought the Henniger building on Main Street," she said, abruptly changing the subject.

}He nodded. "It was a good price; I thought I might as well have it."

}Checking the tea, Tulsa May surmised that it was dark enough and began to pour into her mother's semiporcelain Evangeline teacups.

}"Are you planning to open up a store?" she asked.

}"I was considering using it as a warehouse when I bought it," he admitted. "But since then, I've been thinking that the location is much too good to waste with storage."

}Tulsa May nodded. "Two scoops and a dollop of milk?" she asked as she looked down at his teacup.

}"You remember what I like very well."

}She looked mischievous. "I remember a lot of things ... I remember when you hid my paperdolls too!"

}"You were too old for paperdolls."

}"Still, they were mine."

}"I gave them back."

}"Well, yes you did. But you made me search three days for them. And then you never did tell me where you'd put them."

}"You would never have found them on your own," he said smugly. "I put them in that book Miz Constance gave you for your birthday."

}"What book?"

}Luther grinned. "Don't you remember? It was called
A Modern Guide to Deportment in the Best Society.
I knew you'd never look inside."

}Tulsa May laughed and covered her face. "You're right, I never did."

}Finally, the tension seemed to be easing.

}"So now you are planning to be a Main Street businessman."

}"If I can think of a good business to put there. Something that I would enjoy owning. I don't think I'm ready to sell belt buckles or tombstones."

}Tulsa May smiled at him. "I'm sure that whatever you do with it will be the perfect thing."

}A noise at the front door ended their conversation. The Reverend and Mrs. Bruder had arrived home at last.

}Tulsa May didn't wait for her parents to discover them. "We're in the kitchen," she called out.

}Mrs. Bruder yelled hello before hurrying up the stairs. The reverend, however, came back to stand in the kitchen doorway. He was wet and tired and did not look the least bit happy. He gave Luther only the slightest nod of acknowledgment.

}"Tulsa May, it is not really proper to entertain a gentleman when your parents are not at home."

}Luther drank down the remaining tea in one gulp and immediately rose to leave.

}"It was raining, Papa," Tulsa May said in defense. "I invited him in for some tea to warm him up."

}Reverend Bruder pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I understand, but it is still not proper. However"—he glanced disapprovingly at Luther before returning his gaze to his daughter—"after your carryings-on tonight on the dance floor, dear, I'm not surprised that you forgot about propriety."

}"It's my fault, Rev—" Luther said.

}"—
I
wanted to dance, Papa. I'd never done it and I wanted to try it."

}"Well, I hope you've gotten over that nonsense."

}"Actually," Tulsa May answered bravely, "I rather enjoyed it. I think I would like to do it again."

}Luther cleared his throat nervously.

}"I won't have you hanging out at wild dance halls." The reverend, his eyes narrowed, made this admonishment as much to Luther as to Tulsa May.

}"No danger of that, Rev." Luther was visibly uncomfortable with the discussion. He cleared his throat. "I was hoping, sir, that I might be allowed to escort Miss Tulsy to church in the morning."

}The preacher raised his eyebrows and folded his arms before him, surveying the young man with surprise. "You intend to darken God's door once again, Luther?" He shook his head and then glanced at his daughter. "My, the Lord does work in mysterious ways."

}SPRING BLOSSOM FESTIVAL HUGE SUCCESS

}Evening Rain Doesn't Dampen Enjoyment

}Cimarron Ornamental Flower Farms held its annual Spring Blossom Festival on Saturday at Cora's Knoll near Prattville. It was estimated that nearly two hundred people were in attendance for the festivities, which included a steam calliope merry-go-round and speeches from local politicians.

}Miss Maybelle Penny, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Titus Penny of Main Street, was crowned Spring Blossom Queen in a ceremony that included the presentation of a

}Chapter 7

}He was a boy again. The wind swept his long black hair into his face and he brushed it away. He heard her call his name. Or did he hear it? Perhaps he felt it? She was behind him. His mother. His mother as he remembered her, not his mother from the photograph that sat on the delicate parlor table in the front room. That mother was a pretty, young, dark-eyed princess with her hair dressed in an elaborate style. That mother was wearing a fancy dress and had her face lightened with rice powder. This was his mother with the long black braids that hung nearly to her waist and the once bright calico dress, much faded and worn at the elbows.

}"Greasy!" she called once again to him, in that way of hers that made it sound like "Greezie."

}He turned to run back to her, but he felt weak and she was a long distance away. His father was there too. Looking very tall. Looking very alive. He struggled to reach them, briefly frightened that he would not make it. But then he was beside them. They were smiling down at him. His father ruffled his hair. "Son, come take your brother," he said in the deep, strong voice that Luther remembered, although he couldn't see his father's lips moving. "He's younger than you and he's your responsibility. You must keep him safe and keep him with you."

}Luther looked down into the blankets. Arthel was a baby once more. Tied into his papoose cradle, he had the same black hair on his forehead and the same shriveled-up face that Luther remembered. The little baby eyes crinkled up and he opened his mouth as if to howl, but no sound came.

}"Be careful with him now," his mother admonished as she strapped the leather binding on Luther's back. "You must watch what you do. You must keep your little brother safe."