The May evening was cool, but not uncomfortably so. The Pierce boys built a bonfire in the yard and hung lanterns on the porch. Just before dark the Watkins family arrived and shortly after that the Tarrs. Mrs. Watkins brought a chocolate cake and Mrs. Tarr a pan of doughnuts. The men disappeared into the barn shortly after the families arrived. When the music began, they were all in a happy mood.
Sharon Tarr Burris, a year or two older than Letty, had married her sweetheart before he went to war. When he was killed, she came back home to live with her parents. Sharon played the mandolin, Stanley Pierce and Harry the guitars. Mr. Pierce, well fortified with homemade spirits, played the fiddle enthusiastically.
Celia and Helen giggled and huddled together at the end of the porch. Patrick pouted for a while because Jimmy Watkins had gone to Claypool to visit his grandparents, and he had no one to play with. Finally, his face caked with sugar from Mrs. Tarr’s doughnuts, he fell asleep, his head pillowed on Mrs. Watkins’s lap.
After an hour of singing and clapping, the men made another trip to the barn. When Mr. Pierce returned, he picked up his fiddle and began to play a lively square-dance tune. Chairs were pulled back to make room for the dancing.
“Form a square,” he yelled when he took the fiddle from beneath his chin.
Sharon and Stanley took their places beside Harry and Oleta on the hard-packed yard. Mr. and Mrs. Tarr joined in. Fifteen-year-old Walter Tarr pulled Letty out to make up the set. Letty had learned to square-dance the summer after Patrick was born. It had taken her a while to loosen up and enjoy herself that evening at the Watkinses, but her love of music set her feet to dancing. Later, she had wondered how anything that had been so much fun could be as wicked as her father said it was.
Those wicked Dolans are dancing their way to hell. The words came back to Letty as clearly as if her father were standing beside her. She shook her head to rid her mind of a thought that had lurked there since the day Mike had told her that her parents had declared her dead. In her heart she knew her father and Cora were capable of doing just that— but her mother? Was it possible that her mother would have cut her so completely out of her life? The pain in her heart made her feel as if there were a wide chasm between her and everyone else in the world.
The music started and Letty threw herself into the dance. Mr. Pierce fiddled, stomped his foot, and shouted the calls:
“Ladies to the center, gents all around. Swing that gal right off the ground.
Sing and march—first couple lead. Swing and march and then stampede.
Ladies to the left, gents to the right, meet in the middle and hug her tight.
Swing that gal, swing her sweet. Swing that gal right off her feet.”
The calls and the fiddle didn’t stop until the dancers were breathless. Mr. Pierce placed his fiddle on a chair and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
“Time for the ladies to take a breather and the gents a trip to—”
“—Papa, shh—” Mrs. Pierce said quickly. “There’s a man on horseback there by the woodpile. He’s been there since the dancing started.”
CHAPTER
12
The singing voices carried far on the night wind. The sound of the party reached Mike about the same time he saw the flicker of the bonfire through the trees. He stopped his horse when he reached the lane leading to the well-lighted farmhouse and listened to the music. The bonfire and lanterns placed on the porch and from tree limbs made light for a dozen or more people sitting on the porch and in the yard. One of the first things Mike noticed about Letty was that she had let her hair down and had tied it at the nape of her neck.
The fiddler suddenly stopped sawing away on his violin.
“Form a square,” he yelled.
A scramble occurred to get the chairs out of the way and to form the set. Feeling more like an outsider than he could ever remember and hating it, Mike rode slowly up the lane as the dancing started. He stopped the horse outside the circle of light and watched.
Letty was dancing. He had wanted to be the one to teach her after he got her out from under the control of the preacher and her sister. Mike’s eyes followed her every movement. She was having a good time. Her feet were light, her head high, and from time to time her laughter rang out as clearly as a bell above the music. Her skirts whirled until her knees showed, her long hair, caught at the nape with a ribbon, flew out behind her as she pranced to the tune of the music. He had never seen her so lighthearted and gay.
She was enjoying herself now, but he feared that would change when she caught sight of him. He stored her laughter in the dark regions of his mind to bring out and enjoy when he was alone and lonely.
The music stopped. As the last note faded, the dancers bowed to each other and sank down on the edge of the porch to catch their breath. The gray-haired fiddler spoke to another man, and then both men came toward Mike. He moved his horse out of the shadow and into the light.
“Howdy,” Mike said, with his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Mr. Pierce?”
“I’m Pierce.”
“Name’s Mike Dolan. I work for Mr. Fletcher. He was uneasy about his granddaughter and asked me to escort her and the children home when she’s ready to go.”
“I hadn’t heard Jacob had hired a man,” Mr. Pierce said and turned to the man beside him. “Had you, Guy?”
“Harry was over there today and met Dolan. He fixed a wheel on our planter. I’m Guy Watkins,” he said to Mike. “You met my boy, Harry.”
“Step down, Mr. Dolan,” Mr. Pierce invited. “We’re a bit leery of strangers, times as they are.”
“I understand. Glad to know you, Mr. Pierce, Mr. Watkins.” Mike shook the hands offered.
“Tie your horse there to the fence and come meet the folks.”
“I don’t want to interrupt the party. I can wait here.”
“You’re not interruptin’ a thin’. The young folk’ll want to be dancin’ another square if I’m readin’ them right.”
Mr. Pierce led the way to the house. Mike walked beside Mr. Watkins, towering over the shorter man. Letty had moved to the far side of the porch in the shadows and all he could see was her white face. So tuned to her emotions, he could almost feel her fear that he would embarrass her. Letty, sweetheart, don’t be scared—
While Mike was being introduced, Oleta sidled over to Letty.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him? Where did he come from? He’s downright handsome. Sharon thinks so, too. Her eyes are about to pop out.” Oleta nudged Letty with her elbow. “She’s man-hunting so she can get away from the farm.”
Letty’s face burned, her throat so choked with bitterness she couldn’t speak.
“Howdy, I remember you now.” Mrs. Watkins said, holding out her hand. “You was at our place looking for Letty’s man. Said you knew him before.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mike said, looking down at his son sleeping in her lap. “Little fellow is all tuckered out, isn’t he?”
“He’s a corker, he is,” Mrs. Watkins said fondly. “I was there when he was born. He come into the world on the move and he’s been on the move ever since.”
Mike moved on until all the introductions were made.
“The ring you put around the axle worked just fine, Mike,” Harry said.
“It’ll hold for a while. Jacob’s got an anvil. If we could rig up a forge, we could fix a few things without having to go all the way to town to the blacksmith.”
“Done some blacksmithin’, have ya?” Mr. Tarr asked.
“In Pennsylvania, before the war. Worked in a coal mine and helped a blacksmith on the side. I liked the work. Never got into putting on horseshoes though. Always wanted to try it.”
“Sure would be a help if we didn’t have to hightail it to town when we have a breakdown,” Mr. Pierce said. “Come on out to the barn. I’ll show you what I think might work for a forge.”
Mike strolled toward the barn with the men. Resentment built in Letty. He hadn’t eve
n looked at her. And her friends had taken him in as if he were one of them.
“That’s not the only reason they’re going to the barn.” Mrs. Tarr sank down in a chair on the porch. “I keep tellin’ that man a mine he’d better stop haulin’ that white lightnin’ in the wagon or he’ll get caught sure as shootin’.”
“You won’t have to worry about carryin’ any home from the looks of them,” Mrs. Pierce said.
“How long has Mike been working for your grandpa?” Sharon asked.
“Since yesterday.”
“He’s handsome as all get out. He doesn’t look like he’d need to work as a hired hand.”
“Harry said he was at Argonne in France, but not in Robert’s division,” Mrs. Watkins said in a choked voice. “Harry talked to him a little bit about it today. I’d like to hear about how it was at Argonne and about Flanders’ Field where Robert is buried.”
“Was Mike Dolan wounded, Letty?” Oleta asked.
“I didn’t ask him.”
“He might be one of those who’ll not talk about the war.”
“He talked to Harry about it today,” Mrs. Watkins said. “I’ll wait until we’re better acquainted, then I’ll ask him.”
Letty stood. “I’d better start gathering things up. It’s time I was getting on home.”
“Pa said we’d have another square,” Oleta said. “You’ve got to stay for that. And we haven’t had cake yet.”
“Stay, Letty,” Sharon added. “I want to dance with Mike. Oh, shoot! What if he doesn’t dance?”
“He dances,” Letty said drily and sat back down, then added when all eyes turned toward her, “I never saw an Irishman who didn’t.”
“I wonder what brought him all the way out here from Pennsylvania,” Sharon mused. “Did he say, Letty?”
“Who knows?” Letty said, evading the question.
Oleta jumped up when she saw the men coming from the barn and skipped out to meet her father.
“Play another set, Papa, please—Letty thinks she’s got to be getting on home.”
“Youngun, you’ll wear my arm off,” he said and gave her an affectionate little swat on the back. “All right, one more. Grab your partners.”
Sharon was off the porch like a shot. “You dance, Mr. Dolan?”
“Well, sure, but don’t you have a partner?”
“Stanley will dance with Letty. He’s kind of got his eye on her,” she whispered and winked.
Mike’s eyes leaped to young Stanley Pierce. The tall youth was trying to pull Letty up off the porch. His heart had missed a beat before it registered in his brain that the boy was not more than sixteen.
“I’ll sit this one out, Stanley.”
“Ah . . . come on, Letty. We got to have four couples to make up the set.”
Letty had no choice but to get in line with Stanley behind Sharon and Mike. Panic knifed through her. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep her mind on the calls. What if she got mixed up and threw everyone off? She’d have to hold his hand. He would whirl her around.
Through the pounding of blood in her ears she heard Mr. Pierce strike up a tune on the fiddle, then begin the calls:
“All join hands. Circle to the left. Circle to the right. Now, do-si-do.”
Mike’s hand, warm and hard, grasped Letty’s and the circle moved. She moved on instinct, her feet feeling as if each weighed a hundred pounds. She moved back to back with Stanley when the caller directed. After being swung by her partner the next call was, “Men to the right, women to the left.” Letty found herself weaving in and out, clasping hands with first one male dancer and then another. When the call came to “swing your partner,” she was with Mike. He held tightly to her hand, the arm about her waist drew her close against him. He swung her off her feet. Breath left her. His dark eyes were fastened to her face. She could feel the hardness of his chest and his hot breath on her cheek. Her heart thumped in a strange and disturbing way as she struggled to get sufficient air into her lungs.
“Letty, sweetheart—” The words were murmured close to her ear.
She swallowed drily, feeling the frantic clamor of her throbbing pulse. When he released her, he held tightly to her hand until he had to give her over to her partner. Letty responded automatically to the remaining instructions from the caller, and wondered if the torment would ever cease.
When the dance ended, she was on the far side of the square. She saw Sharon slip her arm through Mike’s, laugh up at him, and pull him out of the circle of light. So much for the grieving widow, Letty thought caustically. Sharon’s husband had been dead less than a year and here she was doing her best to latch onto Mike.
“You’re a great dancer, Mike. And you like to dance. I can tell.” Sharon’s voice was low and intimate but plenty loud enough for Letty to hear.
“My folks liked to dance. They taught all of us kids.”
“There’s a dance in Piedmont every week during the summer—”
“Come on in, Mike,” Stanley interrupted. “There’s chocolate cake, doughnuts, and coffee.”
Sharon’s eyes shot daggers at Stanley as Mike gently disengaged his arm from hers. “Chocolate cake? I sure can’t miss out on that.”
Letty gritted her teeth. He was making himself right at home with her friends. She sank down on the edge of the porch. While they were dancing, Mrs. Watkins had taken Patrick inside, and Helen was off somewhere with Celia.
“This night turned out better than I thought.” Sharon sat down beside Letty. “I haven’t met such an attractive man in a coon’s age. And can he dance!” She looked at Letty strangely. “Did your grandpa know him?”
“As far as I know he had never set eyes on him until he rode into the yard.”
“Golly-darn! Some people have all the luck. Why couldn’t he have ridden into our yard?”
“Is Mr. Tarr looking for help?”
“Well no,” Sharon admitted. “Not till harvest. I’ve been helping out some in the field.”
Oleta came out onto the porch and gave Sharon and Letty each a plate filled with cake, pie, and doughnuts.
“Goodness gracious, Oleta,” Letty exclaimed. “I can’t possibly eat all of this.”
“Eat what you want and leave the rest. Nothing goes to waste here. The boys’ll finish it up. They’d fight the hogs over something sweet,” Oleta said over her shoulder.
Letty picked at the food, wishing the time would hurry by. More than anything she wanted to be at home in her room, in her bed, away from everyone. She wanted to relax her stiff face. If she didn’t do it soon, she feared it would crack.
Sharon had ceased talking and was watching Mike. He sat in the yard with the men, forearms resting on his thighs, holding his plate between his spread legs with one hand and forking cake into his mouth with the other. A cup of coffee sat between his booted feet. The one time Letty looked at him, their eyes met. After that she kept her eyes on her plate. When she could sit still no longer and got up to go into the house, Sharon didn’t notice, but Mike did. His eyes followed her until she was out of his sight.
“I just can’t hold another bite, Mrs. Pierce.” Letty set her half-filled plate on the table.
“Don’t worry ’bout it. Walter or Stanley’ll be in and finish it off. Law me, but them boys has hollow legs when it comes to eatin’.”
Glad to be where Mike couldn’t see her, Letty chatted with Mrs. Pierce and Mrs. Watkins. She told them about Doctor Hakes’s new Ford car and that Mr. Howard had a good price on chicken feed.
“Did you hear about that fancy preacher lady coming to Boley?” Mrs. Tarr asked, coming into the kitchen.
‘We heard that. Sister Cora, they call her,” Mrs. Pierce said. “Claims to heal the sick. I wonder if she could do anything for Moss Ringland? That poor sot has drank denatured alcohol till his brain is pickled.”
“It’s plumb pitiful,” Mrs Tarr said. “I saw him last week in Claypool. He’s got jake-leg now. His feet flop something awful when he tries to walk.”
“Did Martha see her heal anyone?” Mrs. Tarr asked.
“Martha said she placed her hands on a blind man’s eyes and afterwards he swore he could see light.”
Letty swallowed a groan of disgust and wondered how people could be so stupid that they couldn’t see through Cora’s theatrics. She prayed to God her friends never found out that Cora was her sister.
“Guy wouldn’t go all the way to Boley just to see her. He thinks she’s a quack.”
Hurrah for Mr. Watkins. He doesn’t know how right he is. It wasn’t hard for Letty to imagine Cora crowing over the collection plate.
“Law no, he wouldn’t,” Mrs. Watkins was saying. “It’s nigh on forty miles to Boley. I might persuade him to go if we made up a get-together and go for a lark. We’d have to camp out. Us women could go to the church meetin’. The men wouldn’t have to go.”
“Let’s do it.” Mrs. Tarr explained, “We’re not liable to get another chance to see her. How about you, Letty? We’d be pleased to have you come.”
“Count me and Grandpa out.” Letty shook her head. “It would be too hard on Grandpa. Which reminds me, I’ve got to be heading home. Tomorrow is Patrick’s birthday and I’ve got to make an early start if I’m going to get a cake baked and all his favorites for dinner.”
“He’ll be five, won’t he?” Mrs. Watkins exclaimed. “My, how time flies. Seems like it ain’t been no time at all. I ain’t never goin’ to forget that night he come squallin’ into the world. He was the prettiest little black-haired bugger I ever did see.”
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