The Secrets of Rosa Lee (12 page)

He straightened, but his eyes still studied her. “I've been digging up all I could and I thought something I found might help the committee.” He pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket. “But, first I should tell you that my company is willing to make a fair offer for the land the house sets on.”

“You want the drilling rights?”

“More, I'm afraid. You see, the house sets on the crest
of the property. Finding oil is a long shot in an area that's virgin. The test hole would need to be drilled on the most likely spot.”

“And that spot is where the Altman house sets.” She stiffened.

Sloan nodded slowly. “My company's not heartless, Sidney, but we're not foolish either. It'll cost thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands to drill. We can't afford to take less than our best shot at finding the oil beneath.”

“I understand,” she whispered, suddenly not the least bit hungry.

“No, you don't,” he answered. He unfolded the paper. “I think before you make up your mind about me, or the Altman place, you should have all the facts.”

“You mean the committee should have the facts?”

“No, you.” He looked down at the paper. “I dig through the records of every public file I can. Two days ago I found something that might surprise you. I've got copies of all the documents, but I just brought one page in with me.” He passed the paper toward her. “According to Rosa Lee's will, the house only went to the city if it was not claimed within a year by Minnie Jefferson of Chicago, Illinois.”

Sidney felt the blood draining from her face. “Minnie Jefferson was my grandmother,” she whispered.

“I know.” Sloan looked down at the paper. “I looked up her name on the Internet. She died in an accident on her way here, didn't she?”

Sidney fought back tears. “My mother was with her. I didn't know where they were heading. I was teaching in a junior college north of Chicago and must have been in class when they left a message on my home phone saying they were off on a little trip. I thought it strange because my mother rarely left the city.

“The next time the phone rang, it was the state police
saying they were killed in a pileup a hundred miles south of their home.” She closed her eyes and tried to remember every detail of a day she'd often wished she could forget. “They were headed south, so this could have been their destination. My mother's last words were that she'd call me before dark and let me know where they were spending the night. So, they must have known the trip they were taking would be more than a one-day drive.”

“She didn't drive at night.” Sloan filled in the blank.

“None of us did,” she whispered, fighting tears. “I still can't. When I teach a night class I always walk home even if the faculty parking lot is right by my classroom. I'd rather face the cold than chance not seeing one of the students out walking at night.”

She stared at the paper in his folder. “This brings up a hundred questions.”

“I've only a few answers,” he whispered. “But, I'm willing to help.”

The waitress circled by and Sloan asked for their orders to go. They sat in silence until she came back with the bags. Sloan walked beside her to his truck, but didn't close the door when she got in. He stood next to her, the meals in one hand and his arm on the frame of her door.

“I shouldn't have told you like that.” He reached in awkwardly and took her hand. The bag bumped against her knee. “I'm sorry.”

Sidney managed to smile more at herself than him. How could she have been so foolish to even allow a tiny part of her mind think he'd asked her on a date? She should have known better. “It's all right. Thank you for being honest with me. Not that it will matter, since my grandmother never claimed the house I don't have any more say than anyone else on the committee.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “But, I shouldn't have blurted it
out like that. I should have started with the little things I learned and not just handed you part of the will.”

Sidney placed her free hand over both theirs. “I thank you. I've already mourned my mother's and grandmother's deaths. You've only given me a piece of the puzzle I couldn't understand. How about we go back to my office and look over all the papers while we eat our lunch?”

His eyes met hers. “I'd like that. Whether my oil company gets the property or not, I'd like to think that we can be friends.”

Sidney nodded.

An hour later they were both reading through every detail Sloan had managed to dig up on the history of the Altman house. He had found records of the good Henry Altman had done for his community. How he'd donated money to just about every cause to better the community, and how he'd served on early education boards.

Sloan's work added to Sidney's research, but still offered little as to why Rosa Lee would have left a house to a woman she could only have met during the Depression. As far as Sidney knew, her grandmother had not been back to Texas since her mother had been born in Chicago.

“If your grandmother was in Clifton Creek, how would she have known Rosa Lee?”

Sidney raised her eyebrows. “Maybe from church? All my life my grandmother Minnie went to church every time the door was open. If she lived here in the Depression, I'm guessing she continued the habit.”

Sloan shook his head. “Could be, but from all I read Rosa Lee never left the place. If she'd been active in a church, looks like it would have shown up in the newspaper at some time.”

Sidney tried again. “Both my mother and grandmother were nurses?”

“Maybe,” he guessed. “If Rosa Lee or her father needed home nursing, your grandmother could have been there. There are folks who feel mighty grateful to caretakers. I've worked a few oil rights where someone died and left everything to the nurse or doctor who took care of them during the last few years.”

“I know during the Depression Granny Minnie worked to save enough money to join my grandfather in Chicago. She might have spent her time here as a nurse. I think they were separated for almost a year. She said the hardest part of the Depression was the year she spent away from him. She took the train up to visit him a few times, but I never asked if he came down to see her.”

“Times must have been hard back then,” Sloan agreed. “I think a lot of couples were separated like that. Men could find work in towns but couldn't afford to bring the family.”

“Once Minnie was in Chicago, it wasn't long before my mother came along and I don't think my grandmother ever worked again. When my father died in 'Nam, Grandmother Minnie came to live with us. For as long as I can remember it's been the three of us.”

Sloan circled to her side of the desk and read the will once more over her shoulder. “Maybe Rosa Lee and Minnie were friends. Maybe the old maid had no one else to leave her house to. Did your grandmother ever mention a friend in Texas?”

Sidney started to shake her head, then whispered, “Only once in a note on the back of a recipe card.”

Sloan's starched shirt brushed her silk blouse as he straightened and checked his watch. “Looks like we missed lunch.” He glanced at the meals still in the bag. “Cold Mexican food isn't much good anyway. How about I pick you up after your meeting and we try again? I've
got some business to take care of, but I should be finished by six.”

Reason told her to decline. Lunch was one thing, dinner another. But, he had been helpful. He'd also been honest about where he stood with the Altman property. He'd told her his company wanted the land, but he hadn't tried to talk her into anything.

“All right,” she answered. “Only this time I buy.”

He raised an eyebrow as if she were challenging him. “Fair enough,” he said retrieving his coat from the rack. “Should I pick you up here, or at your place?”

She started to tell him that she'd pick him up, but an image of her knocking on doors at the town's only motel flashed in her brain. She didn't like the idea of meeting him at the restaurant, either. What if he was late? She'd be sitting alone like a woman waiting to be picked up. “Here,” she finally said. “I'll leave my office door unlocked in case the committee meeting runs late.”

“I'll wait.”

L
ora Whitman searched her desk for the yellow legal pad where she'd made notes and tried to ignore the loudspeaker calling one of the salesmen to the phone. She didn't want to be late to the committee meeting, but her summary of what Billy and she had found looked puny.

One sighting of someone with a flashlight in the house, evidence of an attempted fire and a dozen nail holes at the base of the stairs.

Lora frowned. Not exactly a conspiracy. Sidney said to collect all the information they could, but Lora didn't feel as if she had much.

She could almost see herself sitting on the Rogers porch every night counting cars and writing down license-plate numbers. Maybe they'd make matching militia outfits with crocheted armbands.

As she pulled the legal pad from beneath a stack of papers, a rapid-fire knock sounded on the frame where her door should have been.

“Howdy, honey.” Talon Graham stepped in without an invitation. “Glad to see me?” He looked every inch the young Texas oilman even though she knew he dropped by in his capacity as president of the rodeo association.

Since they'd met earlier in the week, Lora had, at least, done her homework on Talon Graham. He had a degree
from the University of Texas, a rich grandfather who lived in the area and a powerful lawyer for a father. He was working for an oil company out of Austin. According to Dora, her father's secretary, Talon was back in Clifton Creek not just to put together an oil deal, but to start his career in politics.

Lora forced a smile. He was easy on the eyes but, she decided, he was a bother to the brain. She'd seen too many of his type. Men who knew they had it all. Men who got friendly too fast. Men who thought because she had blond hair she must like to be called honey.

She thought briefly of having him stuffed. Then he would be the perfect man. Good-looking, well dressed and silent. “Afternoon, Tal. I'm afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes and can't talk. Maybe you should call next time to save yourself a trip.” Lora knew she couldn't afford to be rude, it might hurt business, but she'd do her best to put him in his place.

It crossed her mind that another time, another place, she might have been kinder. She almost wanted to warn him not to come back until her wounds had healed.

“Oh, I only need a minute. I brought you a surprise.” He grinned, showing perfect teeth. “You're going to love this, honey.”

Lora doubted she'd love anything any man had to offer, but she tried to be polite. “I'm not much on surprises.” She wanted to add she'd slug him if he called her honey again but decided to concentrate on one fault at a time. First she had to make him stop thinking they could possibly be an item, even if he probably was the only single man her age in this zip code.

His granddaddy had miles of land and cattle, her father had reminded her twice. She'd heard so many people say
“he might be governor someday” that she was starting to think of the tag as part of his name.

So, why didn't she like him…? Use him to get over her broken heart? Maybe because sleaziness hung on him like a film, the way it does on lake water during a draught. It was so thin no one else seemed to notice, but as a recent veteran of the heartache wars, she knew he might be dangerous.

He retrieved a large package from behind himself and grinned at her. Without any care to the papers on her desk, he pulled several poster boards out and spread them across her work space. “I found these upstairs in the old bank's storage room. They're posters from some of Clifton Creek's early rodeos. I figured you'd want to see them.”

Lora stared. To Tal's credit, he did surprise her. She loved them. While he talked about how he'd discovered them among files of his family's records, she sifted through the posters, visualizing next year's ads based on images from the thirties and forties.

“I thought you'd like them.” He broke into her thoughts. “The guys at the bank helped me get them in order by year. We're not missing a one until 1942. One of the men said he didn't think they even had a rodeo that year 'cause of the war.” Tal had a blank look about him as if he wouldn't attempt to guess what war that might be.

“I love them. They'll be a great inspiration.” She studied each poster, examined the details. The dates. The names. The artwork.

Tal leaned on the corner of her desk. “I thought you might see it that way. I figure if nothing else, we can plaster one wall of the community center with them, then staple letters running across announcing the rodeo dates
and times. That way everyone who walks in the center will see what's coming.”

“Not a bad idea,” she answered without looking up. “But we'd use copies. I want to keep these originals in good condition. Look, most of the coloring hasn't even faded. They must have been stored in the dark.” She couldn't take her eyes off the gray photos of bronc and bull riders providing the backdrop for all the information. Some of the best rodeo cowboys were listed. Names like Tex Riley, Jack Hampton and Mike Kirkland.

Lora suddenly sucked in a breath. On the 1933 poster, under bull riders, was the name Fuller Crane. “It can't be,” she whispered. The note Sidney had read in a book to Rosa Lee came to mind.
It had to be just a coincidence.
She tried to remember the words in the note, but all she'd caught was the name.
Fuller.

“What can't be?” Tal looked worried.

“Nothing,” she answered pulling the poster away from the rest. “I just thought how this treasure you've found is too good to be true.” She could tell he waited for more praise. “You've done a fine job. I'll have to work hard if you keep bringing me ideas as good as this one. These are unbelievable.”

Tal winked at her. “That's what I said. Who would have ever thought these would all be stuck in storage for years. There's no telling what else is up in that old place if you ever want to wander up there and look with me.”

Lora ignored the invitation as she stuffed her legal pad in the side of her briefcase and picked up the poster from 1933. “Would you mind if I took one with me to study? I hate to leave, but I really do have a meeting at three.”

He gave her the
little-boy-hurt
look before shrugging. “I'll let you go, but only if you agree to have dinner with me tonight.”

Lora had too much on her mind to think of a quick reason to decline. “All right. I'll call you when I'm finished, but it may be late.” Right now all she wanted to do was show her find to the committee. Sidney was going to love that she'd learned Fuller's full name.

Talon followed her to her car. “Wear something sexy. I know a place over in Wichita Falls where we can eat steaks as late as midnight, then dance until the sun comes up.” He reached in and patted her shoulder as if she were a horse he planned to ride.

She fought the urge to slam her door on his hand. In her imagination, she might even pull the whole arm off when she sped away. And, how would that look, driving down Main with an arm flying from the window? For a moment, images of blood spattering on every passing car filled her thoughts. People would say, “Oh, it's only poor Lora Whitman taking her anger out on a man because her husband left her flat.”

Talon backed away as she pulled the door closed and stepped on the gas. He had the nerve to wave with the hand he'd never know how close he came to losing.