Runabout (41 page)

The Runabout chugged into Guthrie, Oklahoma, less than an hour later. Fortunately, no one on the street could see inside the engine or no doubt they would have been scandalized.

"First to the justice of the peace, then a telegram to your parents, and then dancing all night," Luther told her.

"We're a rather muddy, disheveled couple to be getting married," Tulsa May commented.

"Well," Luther said. "We can get a hotel room first to tidy up. I was just afraid that if we checked ourselves into the room, we wouldn't make it to the wedding." He gave her a knowing grin, and she smiled right back. "I don't know if I have enough money to bribe the judge to lie two days' worth."

She giggled. "All right, we'll have the wedding first, if you insist. But we can skip the dancing and go straight to the honeymoon."

"I thought you loved dancing with me?"

"I do, but we don't have to come to Guthrie for that," she said. "We can dance together anytime there is moonlight and a river."

Constance Bruder was flabbergasted, anxious, and generally horrified when neither the bride nor groom showed up for the wedding reception. Practically the whole town was in attendance. Important society matrons like Amelia Puser and Cora Sparrow were looking around curiously. Major sources of gossip like Fanny Penny whispered behind their fans. Even the bridegroom's brother, looking especially dashing, and sporting Maybelle Penny on his arm, showed up. The celebrated couple, however, were notably absent.

Clyde Avery was just suggesting contacting the county sheriff to make sure the young people were not the victims of foul play when Grady Ringwald arrived at the door with a telegram.

Reverend Bruder read it aloud.

UNABLE TO MAKE THE RECEPTION STOP WIFE AND I TO HONEYMOON IN GUTHRIE STOP HAVE DECIDED WHAT BUSINESS TO OPEN IN MY MAIN STREET BUILDING STOP LUTHER H. BRIGGS

BALLROOM OPENS ON MAIN STREET

Moonlight River Room Is Elegant Dancing

Mr. and Mrs. Luther Briggs shared a gala night of fine food and dancing at the opening of the new Moonlight River Room in the former Henniger building on Main Street in Prattville. The ballroom, which features a crystal chandelier with electric lights shipped all the way from Kansas City, will be open three nights a week throughout the year with a house band and guest appearances by musicians from all over the country. Mr. Elmer Tripten, manager of the ballroom, stated that "no expense was spared in creating an elegant and genteel atmosphere for the patrons of music and

Epilogue

The Prattville Spring Blossom Festival of 1919 was the biggest the town had seen in years. It could no longer be held on Cora's Knoll since the Martin Oil Company had drilled a well right on the peak of the hill. The huge metal derrick rose like a beacon over the river and gratefully assured that Cimarron Ornamental Flowers would be cushioned from bad times for years to come.

Since the festival had long ago become more of a community event than a company picnic, in 1919 it was held in downtown Prattville. The rides and games and booths were set up in the city park. A traveling carnival was there for the occasion, featuring a two-headed calf and a real live elephant. Fireworks were on tap for the evening, as well as a formal dance at the Moonlight River Ballroom.

A fancy new Stutz Bearcat was parked behind a barrier of waving red and white banners on Main Street. Philemon Bruder, the former church pastor and new executive director of the YMCA, had gotten the Briggs Motor Company to donate the vehicle. It was to be raffled off to raise money for the new gymnasium that was planned for Second Street.

Children swarmed and laughed and played as in years past, but the war had brought some changes. The booths where the townsfolk had once gobbled up wieners and sauerkraut on a roll now served only hot dogs and liberty cabbage. Where once boys held sticks they thought were swords and defended themselves against wild Indians, now the sticks they held were rifles and field cannon and they defended themselves against the Kaiser. Where the townsfolk once found political opinions and disagreement to be open to everyone, it was now considered suspect for anyone to express opposition to the war.

The peace treaty had been signed in January and slowly, so slowly, the young men of Prattville were returning to their homes. Rossie Crenshaw lost a foot to gangrene. Kirby Maitland's oldest boy, Eustace, had been gassed at the Marne River and his lungs still plagued him. Ferd Mitchum had taken a bullet to the head and no longer always knew where he had been or who he was.

And Fasel Auslander had been killed in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive and was buried somewhere on French soil. The day that the notice came from the War Department, John Auslander went to the courthouse and had his name changed.

"The name Auslander means a foreign person," he explained to the clerk. "My family are not foreigners in America." The old man was the first of his whole family to change his name to Landers.

But despite the war, many things in Prattville had not changed at all. Clyde Avery was still mayor. Erwin Willers still ran the newspaper, although Tulsa May Briggs was now the editor. Fanny Penny still circulated through the crowd with the latest and juiciest gossip.

"Did you see how peaked and sickly Emma Foote is looking?" Fanny commented casually to a group of attractively attired young matrons. "I think she is
finally
on the nest." Fanny shook her head in dismay. "They have certainly taken their time about matters. Frankly, I had my doubts about that old doctor."

Elias Curley was running for Congress again. This time on a prowar stance. The congressman was roaring drunk even before the speeches began at noon, but everyone expected him to be easily re-elected for the office anyway.

Mort Humley revved up his fiddle for dancing at the ballroom, although the house band was available to play.

There was homemade ice cream served to each and all and plenty of pretty girls to serve it.

When the evening train from Guthrie stopped at the station, half the travelers poured out, anxious and excited to join the festivities. One young man, however, still dressed in doughboy-brown, stepped off the train unaware that today was the festival. He glanced about the neat, clean little town, his eyes feasting on the sight.

With his kit bag over his shoulder, he made his way up Main Street, stopping by first one happy friend and then another. Handshakes and claps on the back were given by most. Occasionally, he was blessed with a warm hug by a teary-eyed matron. His jet-black hair was cut very short and his hat sat upon his head at a jaunty angle.

At the doorway to the Moonlight River Ballroom, he met up with Cora and Jedwin Sparrow. There was laughter and hugging all around as he stopped to ask about their children, mutual friends, and the town. As they talked, one after another of the townsfolk spotted them and came over to share a word and a welcome home.

It was a good half hour later before the young soldier made his way inside. Immediately, he began to scan the area until he found what he sought. Without hesitation, he made his way to the far corner of the ballroom where a pretty eighteen-year-old was dishing out bowls of peach ice cream. He stood before her, just watching her for a long moment. Until she felt the heat of his gaze and looked up. Their eyes met.

"Arthel!"

"Hello, Maybelle," he said quietly. "You want to dish me up some of that ice cream?"

Her mind was momentarily so muddled she attempted to dip with the bowl instead of the spoon. When she saw him smile at her confusion, the spine stiffened in her back, her chin came up, and a too bright smile came to her lips.

"Well, if it isn't Geronimo back from the wars," she said, a little too loudly. "I do hope you aren't carrying any smelly scalps on your belt."

Arthel actually chuckled. He took the bowl of peach ice cream she handed him and tasted it slowly, as if savoring its flavor. The minutes passed uncomfortably as he said not a word, merely ate his ice cream and watched the crowd.

Maybelle saw Patsy Panek across the room and motioned for her to come take over the booth. Hurriedly, she began fussing with her apron, hoping to quickly escape from Arthel Briggs's obnoxious presence.

"I see you waited for me, Maybelle," he said to her finally.

She saw red. "Waited for you?" Her tone was dangerously facetious. "Well, I haven't married yet, if that's what you consider 'waiting.' There are so many good-looking men in town these days, I just haven't been able to make up my mind."

Arthel smiled pleasantly. "Well, at least I can solve that problem for you, now that I'm back home."

He took one last bite of his ice cream and then handed the bowl back to her. She took it in her hand, but he didn't let go. He leaned forward and whispered to her. "I've got to go find Luther and Tulsa May, but why don't you meet me later under the pecan tree at the old Sparrow cottage?"

Maybelle's eyes flashed as she jerked the ice-cream bowl out of his hands. "I will not be meeting you," she snapped with fury. "Not under that pecan tree or anywhere else."

Arthel seemed to take her rejection with good grace. He nodded calmly and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I thought you might say that," he admitted. "So I suppose I'd better give you this here." He pulled a small box out of his pocket and offered it to her. "I hope you like it, 'cause it will be pretty hard for me to return it to that jeweler in Paris."

Maybelle jerked open the little box and screamed as loudly as if a whole band of raging redskins had just attacked with tomahawks. A minute later she was in Arthel's arms.

"I've rented the cottage, Maybelle," he whispered in her ear. "I remember you said that it was the most perfect place for a honeymoon."

Luther and Tulsa May Briggs were late leaving their new house on Fourth Street. Two-year-old Mavis would not leave until her daddy had told her, not one, but
three
good stories. Her daddy didn't really mind since the little girl was the apple of his eye. When she'd finally fallen asleep with her little chubby fist pressing against her mouth, Luther had stood for several moments just looking at the beautiful child that was his own.

Mavis had the best of both her parents. Her hair was red, not quite as orange as her mother's but a shiny dark auburn. And her eyes were the same deep vivid blue that her mother found so attractive in Luther.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked Tulsa May as he slipped out of the baby's room and encountered her on the landing.

"Whenever you are. Mrs. Crawford is in the kitchen fixing herself a cup of tea."

Luther nodded. "Then allow me to escort you, Mrs. Briggs," he said. "I know how fond you are of dancing and we are already late."

Arm in arm they made their way down the stairs. They called good-bye to Mrs. Crawford in the kitchen and headed out the side door. In the cool spring evening, Luther wrapped his arm loosely around Tulsy's waist and squeezed her to him lightly.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked. "You're not queasy or anything?"