He sat there grinning, remembering. There had been a day when Gaylord was small. Five, he was, he thought. That day they had been lying on the front porch of their oil-field shack and Gaylord had yelled to a neighbor … "Mrs. Marks," Gaylord had cried, "look at all the hair on Daddy's legs."
"Gay …" Clayton Le Claire had laughed … looked at Mrs. Marks and asked, "Now what do you think of my son?"
"I think he's going to be a devil just like his hairy daddy," she had chuckled. "But I bet he's going to be better-looking."
"Daddy," Gaylord had cried, "when I grow up, will I have hair on my legs like you?"
"You probably will."
"I wish I had some now."
"That'll come fast enough; then when you're all hairy like Daddy you'll be sorry you ever wished for it."
"I like to wish."
"Don't you want something besides being hairy like Daddy?"
"I'd like a new doll."
"Wouldn't you rather have a football or a steam engine?"
"No, I'd like a doll better."
"How about a train?"
"Oh … I've got one, Daddy."
"But you've got a doll too."
"I know I have, but I'd like lots of dolls."
"I'll buy you a doll if that's what you want, but I'm going to make a roughneck out of you yet. You're going to grow up into a big man and Daddy's going to let you take care of all his oil wells."
"Do you have oil wells?"
"I will, son … They're going to be yours, too, and I'm going to teach you how to take care of them." He had looked out over the derrick tops and then back at his son's small form. When he spoke again his voice was deep and tender. "I'm going to hit one of these days … and when I do you're going to forget all about dolls and go with Daddy … Daddy'll take you with him and we'll just make lots of money."
"Then we can buy lots of dolls, huh Daddy?"
"Yeah … we can buy lots of dolls."
