Runabout (11 page)

}Fanny pushed him aside. "We simply wish to state our disapproval."

}Bruder glanced back at the dancers. Laughing, Luther Briggs held his little Tulsa May closer than plaster to a wall, his cheek pressed against hers. Righteous indignation sprang through the reverend's veins. There was no way he would countenance this behavior.

}"Titus would like to discreetly come to your aid," Mrs. Penny whispered. "He could quietly cut in and return your daughter to you to be escorted home."

}It was the tone of voice more than the words that snapped a tiny spring of resentment that festered within the preacher. The tall Reverend Bruder turned to Mrs. Penny, and literally glared down at her.

}"My dear Fanny," Constance Bruder answered her with a dismissing wave of her hand. "That certainly will not be necessary. Our Tulsa May is of legal age and neither married nor betrothed. The only disapproval that she must concern herself with is our own."

}"But certainly, Constance, you don't—"

}Mrs. Bruder continued. "The actions of my daughter are not taken without my knowledge and are none of your concern."

}"You knew she'd be
dancing?"
Titus asked, genuinely puzzled.

}Reverend Bruder glanced at him and then at his wife and finally once more at the dancing couple. He cleared his throat lengthily.

}"As you know," he stated finally, "I have long been a proponent of physical exercise for the health of the body and the strengthening of the soul. Dancing..." He hesitated, clearing his throat another time. "Dancing is merely a social form of physical exercise. Good people have engaged in it since biblical times. Although I myself am not a practitioner of this particular form of exertion, I see no justification for forbidding my daughter a healthy social form of calisthenics."

}Open-mouthed with shock, the two stared at the reverend. Constance remained beside her husband, her head high and clearly proud.

}Titus Penny ignored Fanny's huff of disapproval and took a moment to watch the dancers. He swallowed hard. "Well, Reverend, I guess it does look pretty healthy at that."

}Chapter 6

}The rain held off until nearly dusk, but when it began to come down it was fierce. Within seconds after the first drops fell, a deluge poured out of the sky and the residents of the Prattville community ran for cover.

}Luther and Tulsa May, who were still lingering near the dance floor when the rain began, immediately hurried through the downpour to the parking area. Everyone else had the same idea and the ensuing rush resembled a panic. Horses whinnied in fright and little children began to cry, unsure of what was happening. A sudden streak of lightning startled a jittery bay mare. She reared, frightened, and slipped in the mud, falling on her side. Still trussed in her harness, the mare struggled and nearly toppled the buggy that was attached to her.

}"Go on to the car!" Luther yelled to Tulsa May. He was already soaking wet, with water dripping from the brim of his hat. His hair looked blacker than tar plastered to the sides of his face, and his vivid blue eyes were brilliant in the storm, as if the lightning itself was captured in them. "Go on, hurry, you'll be soaked."

}Tulsa May followed his order, but realized that Luther had forgotten one of the less cheerful facts concerning the Model G Runabout. It had no top.

}Reaching the autobuggy, Tulsa May opened the turtleback spare-tire cover behind the seat to retrieve a large black muslin wagon umbrella. While holding the umbrella, Tulsa May climbed clumsily into the driver's side of the Runabout. The umbrella came open with a gentle whoosh and Tulsa May quickly checked the eight metal ribs to ensure that none were bent backward and vulnerable to the wind. That done, she slid the umbrella's thirty-six-inch pole into the running board and tightened the seat fixture that held the umbrella secure.

}Through the gray mist of rain she saw that Luther, with the help of Kirby Maitland, had helped the fallen mare back on her feet. Though she was still fussy and nervous, Luther had a hand on her halter, and seemed to be calming her. Kirby, the farrier, ran his hands along her flanks and sides, checking for injuries.

}Tulsa May watched from her semidry perch as the two men waited for the horse's owner. She was cold and dripping wet, but she was smiling. It had been a wonderful day. A day almost out of a dream. Even now as the rain dripped off her bedraggled red feather, she couldn't help but sigh with pleasure.

}Finally, Osgold Panek and his wife, Grace, made their way to the buggy.

}Luther watched the mare take off safely before he began making his way across the road. He didn't even bother to hurry. He was soaked through to his union suit, far beyond any concern for the downpour. The fancy blue shirt was plastered to his rangy muscles like a second skin, his soggy black trousers clung to his legs, and his patent-leather gaiter tops oozed water from the soles and would never be the same.

}Nevertheless, when Luther looked up to see Tulsa May in her umbrella perch, he grinned. That grin was so broad it was clearly visible through the combined dimness of the approaching evening and the pouring rain. She couldn't help but smile back.

}"You seem awfully happy for a wet fellow."

}Luther removed his hat from his head, causing a small waterfall. He bowed deeply. "Many women have claimed, ma'am, that I am made of pure sugar," he told her with formal politeness. "You, however, can see for yourself that I do not melt, even in the sloppiest of spring rains."

}She chuckled lightly at his genteel foolishness. Tulsa May knew that he loved to get himself up in fancy clothes, so she was pleasantly surprised to see he could still enjoy the dubious pleasures of getting a good soaking in a summer rain.

}"Get up under this umbrella before you catch your death of cold!" She pretended to scold him and a few moments later the Runabout sputtered to attention. Tulsa May adjusted the throttle as Luther rounded the car, taking time to light all five of the lamps before jumping in the far side to take his seat.

}Buggies and autocars were still making their way from the nearby fields to the now wet and slippery Guthrie and River Road. Patiently waiting her turn, Tulsa May glanced over at Luther. The umbrella was a makeshift solution that didn't work as well as it might. The cover of black muslin only reached halfway across the passenger's seat and a small but steady stream of rainwater was pouring directly on Luther's head.

}"Move over closer, out of the rain," Tulsa May said.

}Luther shook his head. "I'm wet already. A little more won't matter a bit."

}She might have argued the matter had a familiar voice not called to her from the road.

}"Miss Tulsa May," Doc Odie hollered from the relative dryness of his buggy. "Come join me here at once!" He glanced patronizingly over at Luther. "I'll see the young lady home, Briggs, and without the threat of pneumonia."

}Luther, only a moment ago so unconcerned about the weather, suddenly scooted close beside Tulsa May and brought his arm around her, pulling her close. Tulsa May's heart skittered at the unexpected warm contact.

}"There's plenty of room for two under here," he called back to Doc Odie. He grinned at Tulsa May in a comically wicked way. "And don't worry about that pneumonia, Doc Odie. I think I can manage to keep one little gal pretty warm all by myself."

}Tulsa May's breath caught in her chest and she couldn't have spoken a word if she'd wanted to.

}Doc Odie looked incredulous, but he flicked the reins against the horse's back and took off at a clip.

}"I think the old coot may be jealous," Luther announced, pleased.

}Tulsa May's hands fluttered nervously to her throat as she managed to compose herself. "Now that is something to be optimistic about," Tulsa May said. "It would certainly be all right with me if he turned out to be one of the folks who believed the gossip about us."

}Luther hugged her tightly against him and smiled. "We'll make him believe it, Tulsy."

}She felt his warm breath against her cheek.

}"We'll make them all believe it," he said. "It just takes time."

}Tulsa May's heart was pounding so loud she could hardly hear what he was saying. Then he drew his hand back from where he'd been holding her waist.

}"I'm wet, Tulsy. I'll make you cold."

}She glanced across at the rain-slick cotton shirt that clung so faithfully to the hills and hollows of his broad, muscled chest. Somehow she didn't feel
cold
at all.

}Finally, a lull in the retreating line of buggies and autocars allowed Tulsa May to enter the roadway. Visibility was poor and the five fancy brass lamps that appeared so sporty in daylight offered only a moderate amount of actual light on the path before them. And because the Runabout was designed before the invention of the windshield, rain blew right into their faces. Being forced to concentrate on her driving had cleared the fuzzy warmth that had temporarily dulled her brain.

}"Can you see where you're going?" Luther asked with some concern.

}"Not well," Tulsa May answered honestly. "But I've driven this road a million times in worse shape. I can get us to the parsonage wearing a blindfold and one hand tied behind my back!"

}Luther laughed and reached over to grasp her right wrist. "Am I going to be the one to blindfold you and tie you up?" he asked.

}An odd little thrill of excitement sizzled through Tulsa May. She didn't understand her reaction to such a silly statement and looked at him, puzzled. Luther cleared his throat a little nervously and began concentrating solely on the road ahead of them. Tulsa May was left with a curious sense of wonder as she expertly drove the Runabout through the dark muddy ruts toward town. His body, still pressed closely to her own, felt warm and strong. A shiver ran across her skin, like lightning darting across the sky. Strange. She still didn't feel cold at all.

}

}Maybelle Penny had not given up her throne easily. When the first drops of rain began to fall, people hurried this way and that. Stubbornly, Maybelle kept her seat, sure that the sky would not dare to rain on her. For that reason, it was pouring like buckets, and not a soul was in sight, when Maybelle Penny, 1916 Spring Blossom Queen, rose to take shelter. Her dress, however, seemed reluctant to go with her. When she took one step down from her throne, she was jerked rudely from behind.

}"Waaaa!" she yelled like a madwoman then her feet slid out from under her and she landed facedown in the muddy ground in front of the stage. Dazed, for a minute she couldn't figure out what had happened. Her feet were still on the platform, her knees were on the ground, and her face was in the mud. As she rose up on her elbows, she heard a loud ripping sound. In horror she gazed at the fluffy ruffled hem of her new white messaline silk dress. While she had been seated at her queenly throne, somebody had nailed it to the floor.

}"Titus!"

}Screaming her younger brother's name in fury was not enough. Angrily, she pounded the muddy ground beneath her, and a wet glob of dirt splashed back in her face.

}"Oh!" She shook her fist at the darkness of the sky that poured down on her.

}Clumsily, she tried to get up. More than one nail still held her hem to the stage, and ripping her skirt off to free herself was not a suitable option.

}Desperately she tried to turn around to reach the nailed hem of her skirt, but her movements only served to increase her frustration, digging her deeper into the mud.

}"You need some help, my queen?" a low amused .voice asked.

}Maybelle turned as best she could to find herself face-to-face with a pair of muddy brown leather work boots. Slowly, she crooked her neck until she could see up ... up to the grinning face of Arthel.

}"Don't just stand there, Geronimo! Help me up!"