The Widows of Wichita County Read Free Page B

thin layer of sweat on her skin.Crystal shivered. She would be glad when this day was over. There was an uneasiness about it. Shelby would laugh at her if she mentioned her feelings, but she sensed calamity rumbling in with the upcoming storm.

 
    In the early oil boom days of Clifton Creek, Texas, a bell was erected on the courthouse porch. When an accident happened in the oil fields the bell sounded and, within minutes, was echoed by churches and schools. Silently, the children would pack their books and head home…past the clanging…past men rushing to help.
    They did not need to be told. They knew. Someone’s father, someone’s husband, someone’s son was dead amid the man-made forest of rigs.

October 11
9:45 a.m.
Montano Ranch
    A nna Montano cleared away the breakfast dishes and poured herself the last of the coffee. She collected the letters she had picked up a few hours before and relaxed, finally having time to read. From her perch on a kitchen bar stool she could see all of what Davis called “the company space” in their home. The great room with its wide entry area at the front door and ten-foot fireplace along the north wall. An open dining room filled with an oversize table and ornate chairs, never used except when Davis paid the bills. And the breakfast nook, almost covered over in plants, where she ate most of her meals, alone.
    Carlo’s familiar honk rattled the morning calm. In the five years they had been in America, Carlo had become more and more Davis’s foreman and less her brother. She had grown used to him walking past her to speak to Davis, or inviting her husband to go somewhere without including her.
    Anna heard Davis storm from his office, hurry down the hall, and bolt out the front door. She knew by now hewould not bother to look in her direction, or say goodbye. She was no more visible to her husband and brother than a piece of the furniture. He did not bother to inform her why he had returned to the house after leaving almost an hour before. She had not bothered to ask.
    She watched as Shelby Howard’s truck plowed down the road toward the oil rig he was building on their land. She had only met the old oilman once, but he drove like he owned the land he leased. Another car followed in his dust, but Anna could not see the driver. From bits of conversations she had heard Davis having over the phone, Anna knew they needed more money to drill deeper for oil. She guessed the men were having a meeting this morning on the site.
    She finished her cup of coffee, enjoying the quiet of the house once more. The sun had been dancing in and out of clouds all morning, making it impossible to trust the light in the back room—the only room in the house she dared to call hers.
    Soon after she had arrived as Davis’s bride, she began to paint again just as she always had during her lonely childhood. Between the horses and her painting, Anna continued to pass the hours.
    Anna watched the horses in the north corral for a while before climbing off the bar stool and washing her coffee cup. When she turned to put away the cup a sound, like a hundred rifles firing at once, thundered through the house, shaking the walls with fury.
    By the time the cup had shattered on the tile floor, Anna was at a full run toward the door. Nothing in nature could have made such a sound.
    She fought with the latch on the heavy front door, her heart pounding in her throat. When the door finally swung open, yelling came from the barn and bunkhouse.Men raced toward trucks and pickups, shouting at one another to hurry.
    Anna held her breath, watching them, trying to figure out what had happened. The very air seemed charged with panic. Then she saw it. Black smoke billowed from the oil rig site that earlier had been no more than a dot along the horizon.
    Carlo’s pickup sprayed gravel as it swung around the drive. “Stay here!” he yelled at her.
    Anna stared at the smoke