The gun fired and they were off. Hundreds of settlers, on horseback, in wagons, some on foot, heading into the promised land. At first they drove straight ahead, then individuals broke away, taking different directions. Every way, except back. No one wanted to go back to where they came from. Within hours, flags would be planted, claims would be made, townships would be staked out.
Sydney St. John was reading about the last Oklahoma land run in 1893 when she was jerked back into the present by Doctor Berger rapping on the door frame. The old school clock in the hall struck three. It was his research of the Blair Bar Ranch that had her studying the land run.
“Yes, sir. Another box?” Sydney asked.
“No,” he said. “I’m finished for the day. But I’d like to show you something. Or, rather, I’d like for you to read something from one of the folders.”
“What is it?”
He pulled a standard acid-free folder from behind his back and placed it on her desk. “Just read the journal pages, please. You’ll find it interesting.”
Leaving a folder out of a box was against the archives’ rules, as he well knew, so what he’d found must be very unsettling. A few minutes later she unlocked the front door for him. As he started through, he told her he wouldn’t be back for at least another week. He was their most regular researcher and as she closed and re-locked the door, she wondered when he would run out of subjects to write about. Numerous articles were published under his name, and currently he was working on a history of the Blair Bar Ranch and the Blair family, first established in that last Oklahoma land rush. It was a mostly neglected subject as the more popular 101 Ranch was better known, with a flashy history similar to Buffalo Bill’s traveling extravaganza.
The Blair Bar Ranch once ran to thousands of acres and was a popular dude ranch in the 1930s and 40s, that offered popular entertainment for the time, with its rodeo-style performances, trick riding, and roping. The descendants still owned the property, but it was now a much smaller working cattle ranch with some oil wells. The children and grandchildren of the first father and son went on to other professions, but the ranch represented their roots in the state.
The collection was one of the older ones in the archives and its organization left a lot to be desired. For a short while, there were two researchers and she’d tried hard to help both Dr. Berger and Dr. Tallidge find the information they needed. Dr. Tallidge’s death, when her car slid on ice last week, had shocked both her and Dr. Berger. She’d just started her research and neither of them knew her well, but the sudden death of someone you know was always disturbing.
Life always went on, though, and Route 66 was Doctor Berger’s next subject, although so much published material already existed about the iconic highway that Sydney wondered how he would be able to find more to say. Several of the collections contained a lot of information, though, and the professor was very good at ferreting out details that were never covered in other works. She had already started a list of boxes, photos, and other material that he might find useful for the new project. It would be several weeks, however, before he completed the Blair project.
She sat back in her chair and looked out at the street running in front of the building. Gansel was such a small town, with all of the advantages and disadvantages that means. Businesses closed at five, except for the five restaurants. One of those closed at eight, three at seven, and the bar, which also served food, at nine. Grocery items were available at the three convenience stores, which meant mostly junk food and milk and bread.
There was one insurance office, the sheriff’s office, a small public library, a florist shop, a funeral home, and Eastland’s, still called a variety store. Several buildings and store fronts were empty, the former businesses victims of recessions and movement to the larger towns. Four churches served the religious needs of the community. The courthouse on Main Street saw plenty of use, since all of the county offices were located there. Except for the sheriff’s office, that is.
The county kept threatening to close the one elementary school and send local children to the school in Guthrie. Older children were already bussed down to Guthrie and Edmond for middle school and high school. However, a branch of the county library had recently opened. She hoped it was a sign that Gansel wasn’t dead yet.
Most of the people were long-time residents, descendants of the original settlers. Three main residential areas surrounded the downtown area. Around the town center, older houses, some dating back to the late 1890s. To the north were houses built in the 1950s and later. The newest, to the west, made up a bedroom community for the larger towns to the north and south. She rented a 1950s house, thinking when she first moved to Gansel that she might not stay long. Her newer house in Norman was currently rented out to a professor at OU, which paid the mortgage and her own rental.
Shopping was nonexistent. Usually, when she needed something she drove down to Edmond or even to Norman, where she lived for several years, the last two when attending OU’s library school. She still felt very comfortable there, even though Stillwater was a bit closer. Visiting with friends in Norman was an added benefit, and she would sometimes spend the night at someone’s house. Especially if she and a bunch of her friends attended a play or concert.
Her only friend in Gansel was Julia Vincent, who owned the florist shop. As small as the town was, she managed to keep the shop going, not getting rich, but making money. Weddings and funerals were her big stock in trade, events that kept the four churches and the flower business busy.
Sydney knew a lot of people in the town. She occasionally met with city and county officials, at times representing Doctor Arnold when he and his wife were off on one of their mysterious trips. Over the past year, she’d seen them less and less.
In spite of Arnold and some of the headaches the job presented, she loved living in Gansel and working in the archives. She also found that the usual depiction of life in small towns didn’t fit, as she found the people here friendly, helpful, and they didn’t try to interfere in her life in any way, other than repeated invitations to attend one church or another which still happened after five years of politely saying “no, thank you.”
Light pollution was low, so she could see thousands of stars at night. The nights were so quiet that the roar of big trucks on Interstate 35 could be heard if the wind was out of the east, which it rarely was. Wildlife sometimes came in and out of town. She’d seen a few deer and even a pair of coyotes in the field behind her house on occasion, and lots of birds, when the field was planted with barley and when it lay bare in the winter.
Although she treasured her friends, she didn’t go out of her way to make new ones. That wasn’t her style. She accepted friendship when offered. Given her current circumstances, it was fortunate that she enjoyed her own company and that of books and her research. Still, she enjoyed human companionship, and that thought made her think of Ben.
She re-focused on the scene outside the window, where a couple of people walked past, heading east. They were bundled up against the Oklahoma wind and she couldn’t tell who they were. February was often the coldest month of the winter, storms covering the roads with black ice, treacherous conditions, especially on the Interstate. After the storm moved through the night before, the light rain froze on bushes and trees, but the roads remained mostly clear since the ground wasn’t frozen yet. Up until a week earlier, the winter was mild, and everyone enjoyed that. However, February might prove to be a bitch.
As for herself, she had a love-hate relationship with winter in Oklahoma. She hated the ice storms and refused to leave the house until she knew the roads were totally clear. The wind could cut through anything, including the seals around the windows in her small house. She kept warm by turning the thermostat up on the natural gas heat, and burning wood in the fireplace in the living room. She’d always preferred a cooler house and this one did not disappoint.
Among all the things to worry about, she’d recently begun thinking of buying a house. It looked like she would be working in the archives for years to come, something she wasn’t sure of when she first moved north. Four years passed and the work was as fascinating as ever. Her one hesitation was due to her relationship with Ben and not knowing what the future held for the two of them. Working for Doctor Arnold was also a problem. She learned over time that he was a bully who thought he knew everything, and who listened to his red-headed wife’s opinions on the archives rather than Sydney’s. For four years, she’d managed to fend off his uninformed interference and there was no reason she couldn’t keep handling it, except being worn down by it. But if she stayed, she would have to find a better living situation. And she and Ben would settle for a long distance relationship.
The old school clock chimed in the hall and she looked up to see that it was four o’clock. An hour left to clear everything up and lock up and go home. As she started cleaning off her desk, she spotted the folder Doctor Berger asked her to read. His concern was obvious and she was very curious about what was so interesting.