oil riding on the breeze. Dusk coated the blue above them, frosting it with deep navy clouds. Magenta fired the clouds out on the far horizon and glazed those closer to them.
Crickets chattered, toads bleated, whippoorwills sang out their names over and over. The creaking of Papa’s rocker joined in, his napkin riding the slope of his stomach, his bowl resting in his lap, untouched.
A large, broad man, he held a commanding presence and had earned the respect of most everyone in town, garnering their votes election after election. Essie hated to see him in such a dolorous state.
“I heard you fired the new toolie last night,” he said finally.
She hesitated a moment before finishing her bite. “Yes.”
“Grandpa was none too happy when he found out. According to him, Bryant was the soul of courtesy—fearless, punctual, and hardworking.”
She scooped up slices of potato and onion.
“You gonna tell me about it or not?” he asked.
She dabbed her lips. “You gonna eat or not?”
He placed a spoonful of soup in his mouth.
“Mr. Bryant barged into the club after everyone had left and started ordering me around,” she said.
“Ordering you around? How so?”
“He demanded we convert all our rigs to rotaries, or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else we’d become obsolete.”
“He said that?”
“More or less.” She waved her spoon at his bowl.
He took another bite. “I talked at length about the rotary drills with Mr. Bryant before I sent him out to see you. I’d been reading about them and was actually toying with the idea of updating.”
She set her empty bowl on the small round table between them. “Well, heavens. You’ve not said a word. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, but I’ve been … distracted.” His gaze roved over the sky. There was only the barest hint of magenta left.
Her heart squeezed and she laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Papa. I know this month has been hard on you.”
His beard quivered.
“The rotary drills are terribly expensive,” she said, “but if you’d like for me to write up an assessment, I can.”
“Please,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and finger.
She placed her napkin on the table, gathered her skirts and knelt before him. His hand now rested against his entire face.
She removed the bowl from his lap and placed it on the table. “I’ll write up a report first thing tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Would you re-hire Bryant also, please?”
She bit her lower lip. “I’d rather not.”
Papa lowered his hand and looked at her, his expression turning protective. “Was he fast with you?”
“No, no. Just … officious.”
“I imagine he’s not very used to discussing business with a woman.”
“What’s he doing discussing business with either one of us? He’s a toolie, for heaven’s sake. And a novice at that.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Essie,” he said. “He knows the oil business. Somehow he secured a higher-up position for himself in Morgan Oil without ever having to get his hands dirty. He’s a pencil pusher, not a rope choker. Doesn’t mean he’s ignorant.”
“I don’t like him.”
“I don’t think he much likes you, either.”
“I stopped caring a long time ago what men think of me,” she said. “Anyway, he’s probably already left town.”
“I saw him at the Slap Out playing checkers with young Harley just before I came home for supper.”
She took his hands into hers. “Why is he so important to you, Papa?”
“Why’s he so repugnant to you? It’s not as if you’ve never had to tangle with a fella who didn’t like the idea of taking orders from a female.”
Full dark had descended and she could no longer distinguish his features. “He said I was too big for my britches.”
Papa chuckled. “And so you are.”
She started to pull away, but he squeezed her hands. “Now, Squirt, you know there’s a bit of truth to that. And what does it matter one way or the other?
Crickets chattered, toads bleated, whippoorwills sang out their names over and over. The creaking of Papa’s rocker joined in, his napkin riding the slope of his stomach, his bowl resting in his lap, untouched.
A large, broad man, he held a commanding presence and had earned the respect of most everyone in town, garnering their votes election after election. Essie hated to see him in such a dolorous state.
“I heard you fired the new toolie last night,” he said finally.
She hesitated a moment before finishing her bite. “Yes.”
“Grandpa was none too happy when he found out. According to him, Bryant was the soul of courtesy—fearless, punctual, and hardworking.”
She scooped up slices of potato and onion.
“You gonna tell me about it or not?” he asked.
She dabbed her lips. “You gonna eat or not?”
He placed a spoonful of soup in his mouth.
“Mr. Bryant barged into the club after everyone had left and started ordering me around,” she said.
“Ordering you around? How so?”
“He demanded we convert all our rigs to rotaries, or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else we’d become obsolete.”
“He said that?”
“More or less.” She waved her spoon at his bowl.
He took another bite. “I talked at length about the rotary drills with Mr. Bryant before I sent him out to see you. I’d been reading about them and was actually toying with the idea of updating.”
She set her empty bowl on the small round table between them. “Well, heavens. You’ve not said a word. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, but I’ve been … distracted.” His gaze roved over the sky. There was only the barest hint of magenta left.
Her heart squeezed and she laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Papa. I know this month has been hard on you.”
His beard quivered.
“The rotary drills are terribly expensive,” she said, “but if you’d like for me to write up an assessment, I can.”
“Please,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and finger.
She placed her napkin on the table, gathered her skirts and knelt before him. His hand now rested against his entire face.
She removed the bowl from his lap and placed it on the table. “I’ll write up a report first thing tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Would you re-hire Bryant also, please?”
She bit her lower lip. “I’d rather not.”
Papa lowered his hand and looked at her, his expression turning protective. “Was he fast with you?”
“No, no. Just … officious.”
“I imagine he’s not very used to discussing business with a woman.”
“What’s he doing discussing business with either one of us? He’s a toolie, for heaven’s sake. And a novice at that.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Essie,” he said. “He knows the oil business. Somehow he secured a higher-up position for himself in Morgan Oil without ever having to get his hands dirty. He’s a pencil pusher, not a rope choker. Doesn’t mean he’s ignorant.”
“I don’t like him.”
“I don’t think he much likes you, either.”
“I stopped caring a long time ago what men think of me,” she said. “Anyway, he’s probably already left town.”
“I saw him at the Slap Out playing checkers with young Harley just before I came home for supper.”
She took his hands into hers. “Why is he so important to you, Papa?”
“Why’s he so repugnant to you? It’s not as if you’ve never had to tangle with a fella who didn’t like the idea of taking orders from a female.”
Full dark had descended and she could no longer distinguish his features. “He said I was too big for my britches.”
Papa chuckled. “And so you are.”
She started to pull away, but he squeezed her hands. “Now, Squirt, you know there’s a bit of truth to that. And what does it matter one way or the other?
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