Morning Glory by Carolyn Brown Read Free Book Online

two farms. Just on the other side of
that barbed wire was probably the richest lode in the
whole Healdton oil field.

    "Sure did. Soon as I signed for this one. Went over
there and sat on the porch with him for an hour. Told
him what I come for. He offered me a glass of cold
sweet tea and we talked all about cotton and cows, and
he refused me. Said he wasn't having oil wells on his
place," Cecil said.
    "What's your opinion? All men want to make a dollar?"
    "Opinion is that they are so wealthy they don't need
the money and so weird they can have their own ways."
    Briar nodded toward the first of the line of wagons
pulling up to a stop. "Guess it's time to really go to
work."
    Cecil picked up a pair of heavy work gloves and
shoved his hands down into them. "You might as well
go on back home. We can sink this well. Everything so
far has been shallow and this is one rich field. And the
Andersons ain't going to sign leases with no one so you
are wasting your time."
    "Probably, but it's good for the boss to get his hands
dirty every now and then. Keeps him in touch with reality, and I'm already paid up for two months at the
Morning Glory Inn. Can't see myself staying away
from Libby that long, but I kind of like this area. I'd
like to get to know it better," Briar said.
    `Briar, you're the only man I know of who'll work as a roustabout for his own company" Cecil shook his
head.

    "Man keeps his finger on the heart of the company
that way," Briar told him.
    Clara dusted the whole house. It didn't erase the
anger. She put on a day dress, hitched up the tail, tucking it under her belt, and filled up a bucket with water.
She dropped down on her knees and scrubbed the
kitchen floor while Dulcie washed clothes in a brand
new wringer washer out on the screened back porch.
The floor was spotless-the mad was still there. She
tied a scarf around her dark hair, picked up a rag and
bottle of dusting oil and went to the attic. It had been at
least ten years since anyone had climbed the steps at the
end of the hall. She had to brush away the cobwebs just
to get through the narrow passage. Once at the top, she
attacked the layers of dust as if St. Peter would write it
down as a pure sin and wouldn't let her visit with
Granny Anderson if there was a speck left.
    Still, the fury raged on.
    She checked the watch pinned to her shirtwaist pocket and at 4:00 went downstairs to the bathroom where
she drew herself a tub full of hot water. Stepping out of
her work dress, slip, corset and underpants, she caught
her reflection in the mirror. Dirt on her nose. Smudges
on her forehead. Wrinkles around her nose accentuated
even more by the filth all over her face. No man would
ever want an old maid like Clara Anderson. Probably never did. She'd been a fool once to think that Percy
loved her. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

    "Now what brought that on?" she asked the tired
woman in the mirror.
    The attraction you have for that oil man, her conscience answered bluntly.
    "I do not," she sputtered aloud.
    She eased into the tub full of hot water and bubbles.
Leaning her head back against the back of the tub, she
shut her eyes. A vision of Briar sitting at the kitchen
table filled the dark void. Not breathtakingly handsome
like Tucker, but rugged good looks that made her think
about things she thought she'd buried when Percy left
her holding a suitcase and a broken heart.
    Tired from a whole day of fighting with herself, she
dozed, not waking until she heard the schoolteachers
coming up the stairs. She hurried out of the water, dried
herself and peeked out the door, thankful they had gone
into their rooms. Probably to preen for their male
boarder. She wrapped a thick towel around her breasts
and tucked the ends under her arm and tiptoed across
the hall to her own room.
    She slipped into a corset, covered it with a white
cambric underskirt trimmed with tucks, embroidery
insertions and a full ruffle. She