Gathering on Dance Hall Road

by Dorothy A. Bell

  He turned about and left her questioning her sanity. A stranger, he’d waltzed into her life, rescued her twice, and now he wanted to do a bit of fishing. What kind of swain did that? Which answered her question perfectly. He wasn’t her swain at all. He was a damn horse thief, a tricky horse thief. She had to get a grip on her fantasies or be doomed to real disappointment.

  Chapter Ten

  Disgusted with herself for wearing her heart on her sleeve, Melody shoved a fishing pole at him. “Right,” she said, and plopped down on a big boulder at the river’s edge to open the tackle box, choose a fly, a reel of line, some sinkers and a hook.

  “Need a hand with any of that?” he asked.

  “I think I can manage,” she said.

  “Good. I’m going downstream a bit where it widens to a pool.” She handed him the tackle box without glancing at him and seriously considered tripping him.

  Muttering a few choice curses, she removed her arm from its sling. His half-hearted offer to help irritated her. Not because she couldn’t do it all by herself, she’d been fishing and tying flies practically all her life, but he’d presumed she could handle it. If she’d been any other female, he would’ve sat down beside her and rigged her pole for her with the line, weights, and a fly. Well, at least she didn’t have to deal with worms, she hated worms. Grasshoppers, no problem, but worms, no.

  “Watch out for snakes,” he said to her back and stomped off to the big pool downstream.

  My God, it was like fishing with Ryder and Jewel, they had no regard for her at all. Well, she knew what she had to do now, she’d show him how to fish for trout.

  Upstream, Mick and Jim fished for a while then stopped and jumped in to skinny dip. Melody cast her line a few times to get the feel of the pole, moving as she cast downstream below the deep hole where the water spilled over and around several bigger rocks in the stream bed. It took her three tries, but she finally placed her fly in the deep shade next to the far bank in the quiet water and jigged her fly. She snapped and recast four times in a slow, smooth arched cast. On the fifth cast, the line tugged. She gave her line a little tug to the left then to the right to set the hook, and the line ran out. She began to reel in, not too fast, not too slow, then she let it out, and in and out. A good-sized rainbow jumped, breached the water and splashed in an arched dive back into the stream.

  Concentrating on her quarry, she didn’t notice Van had come up next to her. “We don’t have a net. Can you get him up on the bank? I’ll knock him on the head with a rock.”

  “I don’t want to lose him in those big rocks in the stream.”

  “You won’t,” he said and put his hand gently on her bad shoulder.

  She played the big trout, he jumped and ran, and each time she pulled him in a little closer.

  “Mick and Jim caught two apiece. I caught a couple, but they look like minnows compared to the granddaddy you’ve got on your line,” Van said.

  “My shoulder hurts,” she said, gritting her teeth, sweating.

  “Say the word, and I’ll take over. But you’ve almost got him. He’s getting tired. A couple more runs, and you can bring him in.”

  And she did. She reeled him into the shallow water near the bank a few feet from where they were standing. Van waded out and dragged the fish by the gills up the bank. It flipped and flopped around on the rocky bank, its fins and sharp tail scratching his wrist. One mighty plunk on the head with a fist-sized rock took the fight out of him. Holding her prize by the gills, he handed the trout over to her and kissed her on the lips.

  Grinning from ear to ear, he pulled back. “He must weigh two, three pounds. What a monster.”

  Blushing, Melody slipped four fingers in the fish’s gills and wished he’d do it again, kiss her again. He’d taken her by surprise. She wasn’t prepared, and she wanted to be ready the next time so she could savor it, hold the memory of it.

  She’d never been kissed by a boy before. No boy would dare kiss her. She had standards, and principles and scruples and…and…and it broke her heart no boy had even attempted. Not one. But this man, this beautiful man had dared to breach her barricade of prickly pride, and he’d kissed her, kissed her right on the mouth. Her very first kiss from a man, a beautiful man with heavenly blue eyes.

  “You should see yourself,” he said, his voice a purr, leaning over her, his face so close she could feel the breath of his words. “Your cheeks are the color of ripe red plums. And your eyes are dark like a night sky filled with stars. Your lips, Kit, with your lips parted like that, I can see your little pink tongue. I have to kiss you again.”

  She tipped her face up, sucked in her breath and closed her eyes. The second kiss arrived slow and gentle. She swayed forward, drunk with the sensation. His hands on her shoulders, he drew her into his chest. Her head fell back, and she surrendered to the heady steam of the moment.

  Giving her a little shake, he broke the spell. “Come on, it’s getting dark. Mick and Jim have gone on up. We’ll be late for supper.”

  Melody planted her feet and refused to move and waggled the trout at him. “No, wait, you wait a minute. You kissed me.”

  He nodded and grinned at her and took the fish from her to thread it on the rope line with his catch. “I did, yup, I sure did,” he said, tying a knot between the big trout and his little ones.

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to be the first.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled and turned to her, handing her their catch while he took the poles and the tackle box. “I wanted to be the first to kiss you. I am the first, right?”

  Speechless, unable to deny his assumption, she huffed. Outraged, disgusted, embarrassed, she shook her head at him.

  He laughed at her. “No, you can’t fool me, Kit,” he said leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose and gaze into her eyes. “I know I’m the first man to ever kiss those lips. And if I have anything to say about it, which I hope I will, I intend to be the only man you’ll ever want to kiss you, ever.”

  He whistled and Maji came away from the side of the hill where she’d been munching on sweet grass, obediently trotting toward them. His hand on her back, Van guided Melody over to Maji. She glared at the mare, her eyes silently accusing her of gross disloyalty.

  He’d turned her horse into his pet. Her lips belonged only to him. And her heart, he probably presumed her heart and the body it came in was his as well. And damn, he could be right, her willpower had turned to mush in his hands.

  He helped her mount up and handed her the tackle box, keeping the poles and the line of fish. “Wait ’til Ollie sees your fish,” he said walking ahead of Maji, proceeding up the narrow track to the top of the hill.

  “You take the prize,” he said to her over his shoulder. “I watched you cast; you’re a real pro. I could learn a thing or two from you. I bet you tie your own flies. We don’t get a lot of time to go fishing where I live. No big streams nearby. The North Powder is about the closest we’ve got. And the Snake River, but that’s a ways off to the east. Don’t go over that way very often.”

  She’d never met anyone so good-natured. She found it freakish. Jewel would’ve been pouting and annoyed she’d gotten the best spot, or the perfect fly, anyway he would’ve declared her catch a fluke. And Ryder, he’d be gracious but in a condescending way, probably blame the temperature of the water or the lighting, or something.

  The kisses, what were they really about? And the stuff about her eyes and her lips? Hogwash. What the heck did he mean when he said he’d be the only man she’d ever kiss, or did he mean he’d be the only man stupid enough to want to kiss her?

  And hey, he’d revealed something of his life, where he lived. What had he said? The North Powder ran right through Baker City. But the Snake River, she’d no idea how far away it was from Laura Creek. So he lived near Baker City. Jo’s folks lived near Baker City. Melody wondered if Jo knew Hoyt Van De Veer?

  ∙•∙

  Before they reached camp the strains of a li
vely jig reached Van’s ears. Maji picked up her ears and her pace. Melody laughed and patted her neck. “Jerry’s calling up a little going away celebration. I smell pie. Folks will be headed up the hill. I have to hurry—think of something. Got to get dressed for a little show.” She thrust the tackle box down to him and clicked her tongue.

  Maji broke into a trot, passing Van, forcing him to jump aside off the path to make way. “What the hell?”

  “Jerry’s signaled a gathering party. Folks coming.” She waved at him over her head. “Hurry.”

  Dust billowing around him, Van muttered and sputtered to himself, holding the line of fish, the tackle box under his arm, and two fishing poles.

  “Dressed?” He looked down at his blue chambray shirt and black trousers. His pant legs were wet, his boots covered in a layer of dust over mud. He had fish scales and fish blood on his hands. And sweat on his forehead and probably streaks of mud on his face. “Party?”

  Muttering to himself, he climbed up the hill. Indeed, a stream of folks had started up the hill from town, more coming on behind them. Jerry and the boys played one tune after the other. Ollie called out her welcome to the folks. He could hear her jolly laughter. It echoed across the hills.

  Of Melody, there was no trace. Maji stood head down and tail switching, tied to the end of her wagon. Van went around the wagons, staying well out of sight. Ollie caught him tying the fish to the tailgate of her wagon. “There you are. We’ll have those for breakfast. Cool enough tonight. Shouldn’t hurt them. But I’ll put them in some water to keep them fresh. Come, join in. I’ve got some corn liquor. Well, you know that, don’t you? Have a swig or two. Most folks brings their own libations. Pies, two kinds, sweet apple and what I calls game pie. It’s got pheasant and quail and a bit of everything in it. I seen Kit headed for her wagon. Don’t know what she’ll do. But I s’pose she’ll put on some kind of show. Come on. Don’t just stand there with your mouth open. Grab a gal and give her a whirl.” She slapped him on the back and went back to handing out her pies and passing around the money jar.

  Van, staying well out of sight, dipped the ladle into the water barrel and took a long, cool drink. He splashed water into a wash pan and gave his face and neck a scrub. Darkness surrounded him. On the other side of the wagon, torches lit up the hillside. He took a swipe at his trouser legs and shirt and combed his fingers through his hair before setting his hat firmly on his head, prepared to go out and attempt to be sociable. The pies did smell good. And one sip of corn liquor couldn’t do him any harm.

  Leaning his hips against a wagon wheel, he sipped corn liquor from his cup. Two swallows and he tossed the rest into the dry grass. He stuffed one of Ollie’s pies in his mouth and longed for another drink of water. The music was loud and wild. No one cared if it rambled on, one tune melding into the next one. Folks of all ages danced and laughed; he’d never seen anything like it. He wiped his hands on his trousers thinking he’d go see what was taking Melody so long when Jerry stopped the music. The crowd didn’t notice right off; it took a few seconds. A soft jangle of bells echoed off in the distance coming from the dark outside of the circle. The tinkle and jangle grew more distinct, and the crowd parted.

  A woman, a slight and delicate girl, dressed in a sheath of soft white kid, slowly stepped into the center of the light. Legs bare, the straight dress was slit up the sides to above the knee revealing shapely brown thighs. On her feet, she wore white moccasins. The bells were on a thong around her slender ankles and wrists and the belt at her tiny waist. Her glossy blue-black hair, unbound, fell down her back and over her shoulders. With each step, the tinkle of the bells announced her entrance.

  She nodded to the silent crowd and turned to the horse that followed her. The majestic beast bent one knee and bowed, head down in subservience. The horse straightened, and the girl curtsied in return. She did a pirouette, and the horse did a pirouette. She skipped to the side, and the horse sidestepped. She skipped to the other side and the horse side-stepped with her. Then she went to the left, and the horse went to the right, and they switched again. She spread her arms and swooped around in a tight circle like a bird and the horse circled her, doing a light skipping step Van had never seen an animal do before.

  They continued their dance, bells tinkling, jingling. The crowd stood silent, entranced, not a sound did they make. Even the children stood quiet and mesmerized. The horse followed the girl in a one-two-three side to side and stopped. She turned to her audience, bent from the waist, arms straight out from her bowed head, hands folded over and started to back out of the light. The horse backing out with her, leaving as they had arrived on the soft tinkle and jangle of their bells. No one spoke. No one dared to breathe.

  Van quickly jumped over the tongue of the Miller wagon and rushed to intercept her. He found her on her knees at Maji’s front feet, weeping. Behind him, he could hear the soft murmur of a stunned crowd.

  “Kit. Kit, get up. You have to go back and take a bow.”

  She shook her head at him. “No. I can’t. They hated it. No one clapped or cheered. I was horrible. Silly. So stupid.”

  He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. “Go back out there. I’m telling you they loved it. You took their breath away. You take my breath away,” he said and kissed her gently on the lips.

  ∙•∙

  He propelled her around the end of her wagon and into the light and gave her a little push. Maji followed and gave her a little shove with her head. A rousing cheer went up. People gathered around her, touching her, all talking, praising, some with tears in their eyes, all smiling. Behind her, she heard Van laughing and spun around, seeing only the light in his wonderful blue eyes.

  Words of praise swirled around her. The adulation she’d been seeking had arrived. Melody didn’t understand it. She’d had the dress for a while, decorating it, sewing the bells on the fringe as a joke. She’d worn it this evening because it slipped over her head. There were no buttons, no ties.

  She and Maji had always played together, dancing together, it wasn’t anything she’d trained her to do. Maji had come by it naturally as a colt in the field.

  One man stepped forward and removed his bowler hat from his balding head. The folks around him gave him room, moving back. “A beautiful performance, Miss? Miss?”

  “Rain,” she answered without hesitation, pleased with herself for her quick thinking. “You may call me Rain.” It was her name, after all, the name her mother and father had bestowed upon her. If this was the new Melody McAdam, then she would hold on tight to her roots.

  “Well, Miss Rain, my name is Russel Jordon, I’m the mayor of Pendleton. I accompanied my wife and my son and daughter-in-law this evening, and I admit I disapproved of the impromptu gathering. I intended to put a stop to it, as a matter of fact, but after your performance, I have to say I would not have missed it for the world. It was simple and pure, from the heart. I shall never forget it.”

  Melody couldn’t speak. She thought herself in a dream. She’d wake soon. But in her dream what should she do? How would she respond? “I’m overwhelmed,” she managed to say. “Maji and I are old playmates. She enjoys the dances as much as I do.”

  “Oh, tut, tut, yes, yes, your horse is beautiful and clever. But it’s you, my dear, you were sublime. Such grace. Every move, sheer poetry. You transported us.”

  The crowd cheered, voicing their agreement. “Thank you,” she said, unable to hear her own voice over the clapping crowd.

  “Would you give us a bit more? An encore?” The crowd put in a unanimous second to his request.

  Melody dipped her head, indicating her willingness to oblige. The crowd stepped back to give her room. Trembling, she turned and walked out of the light and found Van waiting for her. He took her by the elbow.

  “What should I do?” she asked. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I did.”

  “Give them you,” he said. “Tell them, thank you.”

  She nodded, pretending to underst
and. Knees shaking so bad she thought she must surely crumple to the ground, she and Maji went back out into the light, and behind her, she heard Van say, “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  Bells jangling, Melody twirled out into the light. Maji proudly pranced beside her, head bowed and tail up. They circled, and sidestepped, the bells finding a happy rhythm. At the end, Maji bowed, and Melody bowed to her admirers, and they backed out the way they’d entered.

  Again the audience stood quiet. A cheer went up, and others joined in applauding. Jerry struck up a lively schottische, and couples formed up. Ollie mingled with her basket of pies and passed the money jar.

  ∙•∙

  Weeping, Melody rushed into Van’s arms and promptly fainted dead away. With her body limp, and in the dark, he managed to get her cradled in his arms. Maji followed him to her wagon and waited patiently outside. He laid her carefully on her cot. Uncertain what he should do next, he lit her lantern and stood back. He’d seen his mother faint once. She was very ill at the time. His father had waved a small cup of vinegar beneath her nose to bring her around.

  With no vinegar at hand, he picked up the bottle of the peddler’s potion and sniffed of it. The strong smell of musk and strong spirits made his eyes water and his throat clutch up.

  He passed the opened bottle under Melody’s nose. Her eyes fluttered open, and she wrinkled her nose and waved the bottle away, coughing and choking. “No more of that.”

  Peering up at him through one eye, she said, “Van? I’m in bed?”

  “Yeah, you fainted. I brought you in here.”

  “I never did,” she said, sputtering, struggling to sit up. “I would never do a silly thing like faint. Only a ninny would faint.”

  “Hmmm, you can call it what you like, but I say you fainted. You went limp and unconscious right in my arms.”

  “Arms? My shoulder, it hurts, and my ribs?” She closed her eyes and lay back down, eyebrows drawn together. “Didn’t hurt. But now it does. Shoot!” she said, sucking in her breath.