Deep in the Heart of Trouble (22 page)

She moistened her lips. Her plans had been to ask him about Anna Morgan while they were fishing, and she wasn’t sure she could wait another week to satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps an opportunity would present itself between now and then.

“No, of course I don’t mind,” she answered. “Next Sunday is fine.”

He hesitated. “Did you have a chance to talk with your father?”

“Yes,” she said, clipping the word.

“Good. He told you about the masks, then?”

“Masks?”

“Yes. The cup masks.”

“What cup masks?”

“I thought you talked to your father?”

“I did, but we discussed your request that I stay away from the fields.”

He nodded as understanding dawned. “I am sorry about that. It’s just that women—”

She held up her hand. “I’d rather not rehash it, if it is all the same to you. Now, what about these masks?”

“When we swab the wells, the sulphur gas that rushes up out of the hole is so strong it can knock a fella clean out. We waste a lot of time waiting for that gas to blow before letting the bailer down. So I was thinking, what if we got us some of those cup masks they use in the factories up north? We could just wear those and then we wouldn’t have to worry about anybody keeling over. And it would save time, too.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You know, Tony, you come up with more creative ways to spend money than anyone I’ve ever met. You just talked Papa into investing in three rotary rigs and now you want me to order masks?”

“Not just any masks. Cup masks. You know, the kind that look like pig snouts?”

“Pig snouts.”

“Yes. They fit over the nose and mouth and prevent noxious gases from getting into your throat and lungs. For us, they’d also save time.”

She sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but if the sulphur gas is truly as dangerous as you are suggesting, then cup masks would be used up in Pennsylvania. But no one uses them. No one.

They simply get out of the gas’s way when it starts to blow.”

“So your answer is no?”

“I have to consider both the benefit and practicality of them,” she explained. “And though they might help the men breathe, I cannot imagine the boomers wearing them. Think of how uncomfortable and hot they would be.”

“They wouldn’t wear them all the time. Only when the gas starts to blow.”

She shook her head. “They could just as easily clear out of the way. I’m sorry. I simply can’t justify the expense of masks for every man in my employ.”

“Not every man. The drillers.”

“We have over three hundred drillers, Tony. We can’t just up and buy masks for all of them. Besides, we don’t even know if they would work.”

“Yes, we do. I had one sent out already and tried it. Works great.”

She frowned. “Where did you get it?”

“I’m not sure where it came from. Your father ordered it.”

Her lips parted. “When did he do that?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

“Good heavens.”

“So what do you say?”

“I say we’ve been doing just fine for the last four years. I imagine we’ll continue to do so.”

“You don’t even know what they cost and haven’t seen them in action.”

“I’m afraid I won’t have the pleasure of seeing them in action, Mr. Bryant, since I’m no longer allowed on my own fields.”

His lips thinned. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad because you got your nose tweaked, so you’re going to risk the health of the men for the sake of your pride?”

She shot up out of her chair. “That is quite enough. I don’t know what makes you think you can address me in such a manner, but let me assure you that you cannot.”

“Those masks can be a matter of life or death.”

“I hardly think so. As I pointed out before, every oil patch in America has managed just fine without them.”

“Does your father know you are refusing to buy them?”

“You go right ahead and run to him, since that seems to be your wont. But I guarantee you, this time he will say the decision is mine and mine alone.”

Tony put on his hat. “Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“We certainly will. In the meantime, I expect to see you at training tonight. Be prepared for a vigorous workout.”

“Not to worry, Miss Spreckelmeyer. I can handle anything you care to throw my way.” Spinning around, he stalked out of the office and slammed the door behind him.

chapter TWENTY

ESSIE PLACED sugar cookies in a tin, the buttery aroma filling the room. The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder.

“Ewing,” she said, smiling. “It’s been a while since you’ve come in the kitchen door. And just in time for cookies. Would you like some?”

Hanging his hat on a peg, he nodded. “Don’t mind if I do.”

His reddish blond hair fell in abandon across his forehead, but his black clerical suit fit him with the precision of a well-tailored garment.

She handed him the tin. “Papa’s in his study. I’d walk you back there, but I need to get to the clubhouse.”

He set the cookies on the table. “Actually, I didn’t come to see your dad. I came to see you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

She glanced out the window. “I’d love to visit, but Tony’s expecting me.”

He held out a chair. “He can wait.”

She slowly untied her apron and hung it over the oven-door handle. “What’s the matter?”

“Please, have a seat.” Tension tightened the lines on his face.

Smoothing her skirts, she took the chair he offered, then watched as he settled in across from her.

“We’ve been friends a long time,” he began.

“My stars and garters, Ewing. What on earth has happened to make you so morose?”

He took a deep breath. “How well do you know Tony Bryant?”

She blinked. “What kind of question is that? I’m courting him, for heaven’s sake.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “But what I’m trying to determine is, um, just how much you know about him.”

“Who’s asking?” she said, cocking her head. “My preacher, my friend, or my former suitor?”

His face filled with color. “I’d like to say your preacher, but I’m not sure that’s the case.”

“Then which is the case?”

“Your friend. Your friend is asking. Though, I don’t think I’d have agonized over it quite so much if I hadn’t been a former suitor.”

She digested that bit of honesty, then pushed the tin of cookies toward him. “You’ve heard something you think I need to know.

And whatever it is, it’s unpleasant. Am I right?”

He nodded, breaking a cookie in half, then putting it in his mouth.

“Well, let’s hear it.”

He finished chewing and swallowed. “Tony Bryant is actually Tony Morgan. As in the Morgan Oil Morgans.”

“What?” she asked, frowning. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he’s the late Blake Morgan’s younger son.”

As she tried to sort through her confusion, one thought rose immediately to the surface.
That would mean Anna Morgan’s his sister.
She slid her eyes closed, a sense of relief flowing through her.

“Oh, Ewing. I’d suspected his ties to the Morgans were more than he’d let on, but I’d imagined he was a spurned suitor of Anna Morgan’s and that he had ulterior motives for courting me.” She shook her head. “And now to find out Anna’s his sister, of all things.”

She smiled at her foolishness and at Ewing, but his face did not reflect her relief.

“I don’t think you’re seeing the big picture, Essie. He’s been lying to you. To the entire town.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. Just look at how I mistook his interest in me, thinking it was due to my being an oil heiress—just like Anna—when all the time she was his sister.”

“I don’t know. I mean, we both know your first instinct has always been to see the best in people—even when it’s not there.”

He gave her a pointed look, and she knew he was referring to a beau of hers from a few years back whom she’d grossly misjudged.

“That aside,” Ewing continued, “why would a Morgan pass himself off as a nobody unless he wanted something?”

She gave him a cautious look. “Like what?”

Ewing rubbed his forehead. “Like a position with Sullivan Oil.”

She hesitated. “Come to think of it, why would he need a position with Sullivan Oil when he has his own company?”

Ewing held her gaze. “Perhaps he was figuring to learn firsthand his competition’s strengths and weaknesses.”

She swallowed, her calm suddenly eclipsed by impending dread.

Setting his elbows on the table, Ewing linked his hands together and rested his chin on his fists. “And what better way to do that than by courting the owner’s daughter and infiltrating the company at its highest and most vulnerable level?”

Her mind balked. She tried not to think the obvious, but it was becoming all too clear.

“Are you absolutely certain about this?” she asked.

“I’m not at all certain of his motives. Only that his real name is Tony Morgan.”

“How long have you known?”

“I was told a couple of days ago,” he said, lowering his hands.

“By whom?”

“Does it matter?”

She cringed. If Ewing had heard it from some busybody, then no telling how many others were whispering behind their hands about Essie Spreckelmeyer being courted, once again, for all the wrong reasons. “Who all knows?”

“I think only me and the person who told me.”

“But I thought you heard it through the gossip mill?”

“I never said that. I was given the information in the strictest of confidences from an outsider. You have no idea how much I have struggled with whether or not I was at liberty to tell you.”

“And no one else knows?”

“If they do, I’ve not heard a word. And I feel sure I would have. This would be way too juicy a piece of meat not to have every jaw in town gnawing on it.”

She nodded, dreading the time when Tony’s identity was eventually discovered. Not only would she be at the center of the townsfolk’s speculations, but now that she had time to consider it, she realized they would not take kindly to being duped. Particularly not by a Morgan.

Ewing looked out the window. “I wonder if he had some nefarious reason for using a false name.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Well, a fella doesn’t hide his identity for good reasons, that’s for sure.”

She frowned, then rose to her feet. “You did the right thing, Ewing. It would have been horrible if I’d been the last to find out.”

“That’s what I finally decided, too,” he said, standing. “So what are you going to do?”

“Tell Papa.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, I think it’s best if I do it myself.” She reached out with her hand. Ewing slipped his around it.

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing.

“You all right?”

Nodding, she bit her lower lip. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me.”

“I know.”

Hand-in-hand, they walked to the door.

He retrieved his hat. “Well, thanks for the cookie. And remember, I am your preacher. If you ever need a shoulder …”

She kissed him on the cheek. “If I ever need a shoulder, I think I’ll come visit my friend Ewing, not Preacher Wortham. That is, if it’s all right with you?”

“You know it is.”

Closing the door behind him, Essie swallowed the hurt pushing against her. She would save that for later. Right now she needed to tell Papa.

Essie knocked on the door of her father’s study, then poked her head inside. “Can I come in?”

He waved her in without bothering to look up from the paper he was writing on. His gray hair looked as if it had been plowed into distinct rows. Even as the thought occurred to her, he ran his fingers through it again, reinforcing the furrows.

His jacket hung on the back of his chair. His four-in-hand tie lay in a puddle on the corner of his desk. The cuffs of his white shirt were smudged with ink.

She seated herself in one of the wing chairs across from him. After a few minutes, he put his pen in its holder and blotted the page. “Don’t you have bicycle training tonight?” he asked, still skimming whatever it was he’d written.

“Yes, but I needed to talk with you first.”

“Well, if you plan on hounding me again about Tony’s position as tool pusher, I’m not up to it,” he said, reaching for his pen and dipping it in the ink well.

“No. It isn’t that.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’ve just received some rather disturbing news.”

He scribbled something on the bottom of the paper. “Go ahead.”

“Tony Bryant is actually Tony Morgan, Blake Morgan’s son.”

Papa stopped writing mid-sentence and looked up. Being a judge, he was a master at disguising his feelings. But she knew him well and saw the surprise light his eyes before he quickly shuttered it.

“How did you find out?” he asked, returning the pen to its holder.

“Ewing told me.”

“How did Ewing find out?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

Papa leaned back, the brown leather upholstery creaking. “Who else knows?”

“I don’t think anyone, yet.”

“Well, somebody does or else Ewing wouldn’t have found out.”

“He said it was an outsider who asked him to keep the information private.” She hesitated. “Perhaps it was Mr. Baker? I saw them talking out in the yard that night they were over for dinner.”

“Isn’t exactly reassuring to find out our preacher can’t keep his mouth shut, is it?”

Essie stiffened. “He was wanting to protect me. Surely in this case, breaking a confidence was the lesser of two evils. And why are we talking about Ewing when we should be talking about Tony and what to do about this?”

Papa rubbed his mouth. “I’m not planning on doing anything about it.”

“What?”

“I like him. I always have. He’s a hard worker. He’s knowledgeable. He’s innovative. And he had the good sense to court you.”

She threaded her fingers together. “Papa. Surely you can read between the lines here. He isn’t courting me because he has feelings for me. He’s courting me to worm his way into our company.”

“I don’t think so, Essie. And it disturbs me that you do.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. What other possible motivation could he have for pretending to be someone he’s not?”

“I’m not sure he sees it as pretending, exactly.”

She raised a brow.

“His father disinherited him. Completely. Didn’t give him so much as a penny. Left just enough for his wife and daughter to get by on and gave the rest to his first son.”

“Oh, Papa. That can’t be true. Mr. Morgan had plenty of money to spread around. It doesn’t make sense for him to disinherit anyone, especially not his own son.”

“All the same, that’s what he did.”

She frowned. “How could you possibly know all that?”

“The content of Blake’s will is common knowledge among the men in my circle.”

She tried to process what he was telling her. “But how do you know Tony is the son that was disinherited?”

“He’s the second son.”

“How can you be sure?”

Papa took a deep breath. “I’ve known who he was from the moment he stepped into my office that first day.”

“What? He told you and you didn’t tell me!”

“No, no. He never said a word about it. But I knew his father, Essie. We were on opposing sides of a bill I wanted passed once, back when you were just a little girl. He was a hard man with a lot of money. When the bill went in my favor, he took it personally and I found, through no fault of my own, that I’d made a formidable enemy.”

“But that doesn’t explain how you knew Tony.”

“The Morgan men all bear a striking resemblance to one another. Tony looks like his father. And his father like the father before him. There was no mistaking him. And even if I’d had any doubts, they were put to rest when he used the last name Bryant.”

“Why?”

“His mother was a Bryant. I’d known her father for years. He hated the Morgans and refused to grant Blake permission to court his daughter. But Blake was still stinging from the loss of that bill and wasn’t about to be told no a second time. So they eloped.”

“Good heavens.”

“And if that weren’t enough, she was barely out of the schoolroom and he was twenty years her senior and still grieving over his first wife.”

“What are you saying?”

“It wasn’t a love match—at least, not on his part. He wanted a mother for his baby son and a wife to … well, he wanted a wife.

And to be perfectly honest, I think his main reason for choosing Leah was because Alfred told him he couldn’t have her.”

“Oh, that poor girl.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. In any event, she gave him another son and then a daughter, but Blake left his fortune and his business to Darius, his first son, and nothing to Tony.”

“Why? What did Tony do to warrant his father’s wrath?”

“He had the unfortunate distinction of being the product of a loveless marriage. Blake didn’t care any more for Leah’s offspring than he did for Leah.”

Essie couldn’t begin to comprehend something so reprehensible, particularly when it was the man’s own flesh and blood.

“What happened to Mrs. Morgan and Anna?”

“He marginally provided for Leah and Anna, though Darius holds all the power and the purse strings.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Tony would pretend to be someone he’s not.”

“Let me ask you this: If you’d known he was Blake Morgan’s son, would you have hired him on?”

“I never wanted to hire him to begin with.”