Authors: Fern Michaels
Dear Grandfather,
The only excuse I can offer, Grandfather, for not writing sooner is that your grandson is a coward. For a
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while I forgot my early teachings and also the teachings of the Coleman family.
Your unworthy grandson wanted everything: you, my family in Japan, and everything here that was my father's. I wanted to give up nothing. For a time I thought it was possible. I know now, after much soul-searching, that it is not possible. I've made my decision.
Please, Grandfather, I beg you to understand that which I am about to write. I do not expect forgiveness. There is no way I can ever make up for the pain and anguish I have caused you. Know in your heart that my own pain and anguish is as heavy as your own.
I plan to stay here in Texas. This is my home. Cole has deeded his half of Sunbridge to me. At first I couldn'i believe he wouM be so generous with me. I've come tc learn that my cousin hates this place as much as I love it. ] understand Cole now, just as he understands me.
I want to believe, wise one, that in the back of youi mind you always knew that I would remain here. It was you, Grandfather, who sent me here to my father's people.
Today, just minutes ago, I visited the Coleman gravesite. There is only a plain wooden cross there with my father's name on it. His spirit was there; I felt it. I talked to that spirit, and when I walked away, I knew I'd made the right decision.
I love you, Grandfather, as I love no other human being on the face of the earth. I must believe that your love for me is as strong. If I believed otherwise, I would not be writing this letter to you. I would cause my own death before I brought shame on you or our family. I say this because I want you to know there is no shame in my decision to stay here.
I pray each day for your health. You are never out of my thoughts. For the first time since my arrival in Texas, as a little boy, I feel free to be who I really am. I must act on that freedom.
Forgive this unworthy grandson of yours. If your heart cannot grant this request, I will forgive you, for I love you as much as life. I sign this your unworthy grandson,
Riley.
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Riley read the letter over twice. Satisfied that everything he wanted to say was said, he inserted it in an envelope. He licked a stamp. The letter was ready to go. He'd leave it on the table in the front hall with a note for Jonquil, and she'd mail it tomorrow.
Riley heard the front door open and Sawyer's voice, yelling at him to hurry. He heard the car horn beep twice. A blast of frigid air whipped through the hallway as he grabbed his bags and headed for the open front door. His index finger pressed the light switch a second too soon. The darkness hid the letter, which was lifted in the air and swirled to the floor, where it lay hidden behind the heavy curtains.
Riley drove away from Sunbridge with a light heart. It was time for him to sing his own song.
{({{({{{{ CHAPTER })}}})})}
TWENTY-FOUR
The battery of lawyers worked for seven straight hours to hammer out a working agreement between Coleman Enterprises and Adam Jarvis in regard to the Jarvis oil leases.
For a brief moment Riley felt like a thief when he looked at Adam's face. His voice was gruff but kind when he spoke. "It's only on paper, Adam. The ranch is still yours. If you think for one minute we'd take your family home, then you don't know the Colemans at all."
"But I just sold you—"
"On paper. This paper," Riley said, handing a blue folder to Adam, "gives it back. Didn't your lawyers . . . ?"
Adam shrugged, a dumbfounded look on his face. "I suppose they tried to tell me certain things. ... I had other things on my mind . . . Jeff and Sawyer ... the wedding. Hell, once you sell something, you sell it. The leases are different. I paid attention to those. Jesus, you guys are something."
"It was Grandmam Billie's idea. She felt, we all felt, the deal we worked out with the leases was more than fair. Now you can come back and saw wood anytime you want. I'd hate to think you wasted your money on that chain saw. What I'm trying to say is, you've given us a chance to regroup. Without
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these oil leases, we'd go under. Turnabout is fair."
"I wish we'd done this a little sooner. I had no idea you guys were in so much trouble. I've lived a very narrow existence this past year."
"I wish I'd done a lot of things sooner myself, and I wish I'd never set foot in South America. Hey, stick around; we're drilling at six tomorrow morning. You don't want to miss it, do you?"
"Sure do. Just send me the checks. Which field are you starting on?"
"The one bordering Granger's."
Adam raised his eyebrows. "I know from nothing when it comes to rigs and drilling. I draw cartoons, remember. I did drive out there yesterday, though, kind of to say good-bye to it all. Lots of activity going on at Granger's."
"Yeah, I know. I've been watching all that activity myself, and it's starting to make me nervous. They had a small fire the other day. Old man Granger is a tight-lipped man, a private one as well." Adam's look was sharp and questioning. "Not to worry, Adam; from here on in those fields and the adjacent ones are my worry. You can sit back and be a fat cat and collect royalties."
"Guess I'll see you around," Adam said softly.
"It's hard to say good-bye, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. Call me when the first well comes in so I can drink a toast to all your hard work."
"We already picked a name for the first well when it comes in." Riley grinned.
"W/ien, not ifT
Riley laughed, a joyous sound. "Those geological studies were on the money. A perfect teacup formation. Even without it I can smell the oil. Coots smelled it, too. My gut tells me this first one is going to be a pup. Any ideas for names for the big one?"
"Surprise me. Kind of like giving birth and not having a name picked out. If the big one arrives before we come up with something, call it Coleman One. What's the name you came up with for the pup?"
"Junior."
Adam hitched up his Levi's. "Sounds okay to me. Do good by me, Riley."
"Count on it. Go on, get out of here. I have to drive out to the site so I can start making you rich."
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On his way out of the building, Adam stopped at his lawyer's office. He waved the new contract under the man's nose. "You could have told me. Jesus, I almost bawled and made an ass out of myself."
"I tried, but your head was in Japan with Sawyer and with your son. You told me to take care of things and not bother you. I believe your exact words were, "Wrap it up and send me a check."
"Well, yeah, but this is different... .They just gave. .. Riley told me his grandmother..."
The attorney cleared his throat. "I think you should know that both Riley and Cole would have gone ahead and deeded the ranch back to you with or without Mrs. Kingsley's approval. It was their idea."
Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I think I knew that all along. I guess I wanted someone to say it out loud."
Adam's step felt light, his shoulders lighter as he exited the legal building. His world was right side up now. He let out a whoop of exultation as he walked to his car. "World, here we come, me and my family!"
Junior arrived almost on schedule, a week before Riley's predicted date. It was a small well by Texas standards, but a well nonetheless. It was christened the moment it was capped. Riley used the field phone to call Adam. "Crack that bottle, Adam; Junior arrived! As you toast me and Junior, make sure you remember I'm out here busting my ass while you're swilling the finest wine."
Adam laughed, a heavy, robust sound that crackled over the wires. "You should be getting back to work, Riley. One victory isn't enough. I want more. M-o-r-e! Well done, buddy."
"You're a son of a bitch!" Riley was grinning from ear to ear when he slammed the phone back into the hitch on the truck.
Two weeks after Junior was capped and drilling was under way for what Riley called the "big one," the Granger foreman showed up at the drill site. He was a tall, greasy man with a body odor so strong it cleared Riley's sinuses. He had a three-day stubble of beard and mean little eyes. Riley watched as the foreman hooked his thumbs in his belt and dug his boots into the ground. "Mr. Granger wants to know if you'd hop in my truck and come over for a talk."
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"About what? Why doesn't he come here? Things are pretty wild right now."
"So I see. You struck oil! You got a capable foreman here. Thirty minutes, give or take, ain't going to make you richer or poorer. Mr. Granger is an old man and he wants to see you."
It was always like this—old versus young. It seemed like it was thrown in his face on a weekly basis. Rudy Granger was an old man—a broke old man. "Okay, okay, give me five minutes."
Thirty minutes later Riley was face-to-face with Rudy Granger. The man looked tired and beaten. Riley felt his heart start to flutter. The old man's voice rumbled out of his chest as he stuck out a gnarled, blue-veined hand. His curt nod was his way of thanking Riley for coming to see him.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Granger?" Riley asked. The other oilmen, even Granger's workers, called the old man Rudy. Granger nodded again at Riley's respectful tone.
The voice rumbled to life a second time. "Fifteen miles out I got a... poison well. I hear you're about to strike the big one." His arthritic hand waved about aimlessly. "Word travels in this business. If that poison well and the surrounding ones blow, everything for miles around will go with it, and that includes your new one and the 'big one' you're expecting. Biggest goddamn fire this state will ever see." He spat a long stream of tobacco juice that landed a scant inch from Riley's boots. "My foreman here will take you out to see it."
It wasn't a request; it was a demand. Riley had one foot in the Jeep when the old man called to him. "Coleman?"
Riley turned. "Yes, sir?"
"We ain't got no money to fight it."
Riley's shoulders sagged as he settled himself in the Jeep. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Just when he was almost ready to jump into the catbird seat.
Forty minutes later the foreman ground the Jeep to a halt. "There it is! We don't go no further."
"I see the flags. Look, I really don't know much about poison wells or fire fighting. What I do know is you need nitroglycerine for something like this. Call Red Adair."
"Adair works for big bucks, and he's out of the country fighting a fire."
"Coots Buckalew, then," Riley said desperately. He was visualizing the disaster the poison well was going to cause.
The foreman cleared his throat and spit out of the corner of
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his mouth. "Bad blood there. The boss said no."
"The hell with bad blood. I don't want my wells going up because of someone's wounded feelings. Jesus, the fields will be..." The idea was so horrible to Riley, he couldn't voice his thoughts.
"The boss was telling you the truth when he said there's no money to fight this. Adair charges a couple of mil for something like this." The foreman's mean eyes turned calculating. "My boss, he's an old man; this is all he has left. It's all me and the others have left, too. We're on half pay as it is. Everyone knows the Colemans have every piece of machinery built by man. You have the manpower and you have the money. The bottom line here is, if we go, so do you."
"Man, you got it wrong. We're hurting just the way you are. The Jarvis leases aren't all ours; we have a deal, a percentage. We'll barely survive until OPEC sends the prices up. In plain English, fella, we don't have the kind of money this fire calls for. No way!"
"Hock something," the foreman said sarcastically. He spit again for emphasis.
"I'm telling you we don't have the funds to fight a big fire. None of us are professionals except Coots Buckalew. We don't have half the machinery you need. The old man canceled Coots out, so where does that leave us?"
"And here I thought all you big-money Colemans were heroes," the foreman sneered.
"Just goes to show you shouldn't listen to gossip," Riley sneered back.
On the ride back to the Granger site, Riley's brain clicked frantically. The guy was right. They'd be wiped out, right down to their shoelaces, if the poison well exploded and fire swept the fields. Adam would say he understood, but he'd never forgive him. All the other oilmen who were hanging on by their teeth would be wiped out.
Riley poked his head into Granger's trailer. "Mr. Granger, I'll get back to you in an hour or so, if that's okay with you. I'd like to borrow the Jeep. My men will bring it back."
"Go ahead, son; do whatever you have to do."
"If—and this is a big //,— if I decide there's something I can do, do I have your permission to call Coots Buckalew?"
The grizzled old man stared at Riley for a full minute before he croaked out his answer. "Only if you swear to me that he's the only way to go. That man ain't gonna want to do any favors for
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me, and I ain't about to toady to him. You hear me, son?" "I hear you, Mr. Granger. I'll get back to you." Back at the Jarvis drill site, Riley gathered his crew together. He explained the situation. "I know next to nothing about fighting oil fires. I'm willing to learn because we could lose everything, along with everyone else. If that poison well blows, we might as well move to Rhode Island. I'll give you all a few minutes to think about it. I'll wait here, and I won't hold it against any of you if you vote no." Seven minutes later they were back. To a man they agreed to throw in with Rudy Granger.
Riley made his first phone call. When his grandfather's voice came over the wire, he almost wept. He inquired after the old one's health, the well-being of all his cousins, and the condition of the Zen garden and cherry blossom grove. The amenities over, Riley's voice changed to a hoarse, agonized plea. "Grandfather, I need your help. I need money, a lot of money. I have no right to ask, but ask I must. I'm not asking for myself; but for all the oilmen of Texas and for their families. There is every chance we won't be successful in putting out the fire, but I have confidence in Mr. Buckalew. You met him in Miranda last November. Will you help me, Grandfather?" Riley listened for a long time. He smiled then, the tears glistening in his eyes. "And I you, my grandfather. Yes, out of love. And Cole? You have no objections?" He listened again. The smile turned into a grin. "Make it airtight, Grandfather. Take care of yourself. If I can't call you myself in the next few days, Cole will call you. I am proud to be your grandson. Thank you, Grandfather." Riley wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. Love, he decided, was a powerhouse.