CHAPTER XVIII
THE DANCE AT DEER CREEK SCHOOLHOUSE
Deer Creek schoolhouse stood in a tiny, emerald valley half a dozenmiles from Hill's Corners, some fifteen miles from Thornton's cabin, itshandful of barefooted pupils coming from the families scattered throughthe valley. It was a one roomed building with two low doors and sixsquare windows. And yet it offered ample enough floor space and benchaccommodations for the valley dances, its one room being twenty-fourfeet long and twelve feet wide, certainly over large for the single"school marm" and her small flock, having been constructed with an eyeto just such social gatherings as the one tonight.
The teacher's desk had been taken outdoors by willing hands; the pupils'benches stood along the walls for the "women folk" during theintermissions; upon the slightly raised platform at one end of the roomwere the chairs for the musicians, fiddler and guitarist. And upon thefloor was much shaved candle. For light there were the four coal-oillamps with their foolish reflectors against the walls, and a full moonshining in through door and windows.
Thornton came late, late that is, for a country dance. It was afternine o'clock when, riding Comet, he saw the schoolhouse lamps winking athim through the oaks and heard the merry music of fiddle and guitar inthe frolic of a heel-and-toe polka. Already he made out here and therethe saddle horses which had brought so many "stags" so many miles to thedance, and which stood tied to tree and shrub. Also there were the usualspring wagons that had brought their family loads of father, mother,son, daughter, hired man and the baby; while the inevitable cart was inevidence speaking unmistakably of mooning couples whose budding interestin each other did not permit of the drive in the family carry-all.
Thornton noted the vehicles as he passed them, and turned to look at thesaddle horses, saying to himself, "So-and-so is here from Pine Ridge,So-and-so from the Corners." For hereabouts a man knew another man'shorse and saddle, or wagon, as well as he knew the man himself. So whenThornton saw the buckboard near the door with its two cream-colouredmares, there was at once pleasure and speculation in his eyes, and hetold himself, "Somebody is here from Pollard's."
He loosened Comet's cinch, flung the tie rope over the low limb of thebig oak near Pollard's team, and leaving his horse in the shadows, wenton to the open door.
Already the polka had come to its giddy end. Men and women, boys andgirls, old folks with white hair and young folks in knee breeches andshort skirts, laughing and talking crisscrossed the floor this way andthat seeking seats. The girls and women sinking affectedly or plumpingin matter-of-fact style down into their places, with languishing upwardlooks if they be young and in tune with the moon outside, with red facedjollity and much frankness of chatter if they were married and perhapshad a husband and children likewise disporting themselves, made longrows about the walls of the schoolhouse, looking for the world likeorderly flocks of bright plumaged birds in their bravery of many huedcalicos and ginghams; a gay display of bold reds and shy blues, ofmellow yellows and soft pinks, with the fluttering of fans everywherelike little restless wings.
The men had left their partners, as custom demanded, and had gone to thedoors, energetically mopping their brows with handkerchiefs as variousin colour as the women's dresses; red and yellow silk, blue and purple,and the eternal gaudy bandana. Thornton paused at the door, losinghimself among the men who had come out to stand there smoking or towander a little away in the darkness where earlier in the evening eachhad hidden his personal flask under his particular bush. There would bea good deal of drinking tonight, but then that too was custom, and therewas no more danger here of drunkenness than in those more pretentiousballs in town where men and women partake together of heady punch.
Thornton passed words of greeting with many of these men, ranchers forthe most part whom he knew well. There was Bud King, his tie a vividscarlet, his store clothes a blue-bird-blue, the wide silk handkerchiefmopping his flushed face a rich yellow; there was Hank James from theDeer Creek outfit speeding away with long strides to his own bottleunder his own bush where he might conceal the tremor of the newhappiness he had but come from and drink to the big-eyed girl in thepink dress with the cascades of baby-ribbon; there was Ruf Ettinger withhis new overalls turned back the regulation six inches from the bottomsin a cowboy cuff that permitted of the vision of six inches of greytrouser leg below; there was Chase Harper of Tres Pinos in the smallestboots man ever wore, with the highest heels, their newness a thing ofwhich in their pride they shrieked manfully as he walked; and there wasBen Broderick, the miner, quietly dressed in black broadcloth, lookingalmost the man of the city. To him Thornton merely nodded, briefly,knowing the man but little, liking him less. But Broderick put out hishand, saying cordially:
"Hello, Buck. Going to shake a leg a little?"
"I might." They were just outside the door, and the cowboy's eyesrunning on past the miner sought up and down the lines of chatting womenfor the girl who had tempted him to his first dance in many months. Hehad seen Pollard's team, but he had not seen Pollard or his niece.Broderick watched him, smiling a little. "Have a drink, Buck?" he asked,seeming not to have noticed the other's curtness of word and manner."I've got something prime outside."
"Not thirsty right now, Broderick," Thornton returned coolly.
Then he heard a man's voice from the shadows at his back, and withoutturning knew that Henry Pollard was out there, just behind him. At thesame instant his busy eyes found the girl he sought.
Winifred Waverly's days in Hill's Corners had had little enough of thejoy of life in them for her; she had felt that she breathed anatmosphere charged with forces which she could not understand; upon herspirit had rested a weight of uncertainty and uneasiness and suspicion;the men she saw had hard, sinister faces and seemed cast for dark,merciless things; even her uncle appeared a strange sort of stranger toher and she shrank from following her natural train of surmise andsuspicion when now and then she surprised a certain look upon his faceor when she saw him with the type of man with whom he mixed.
Tonight it was as though after a long period of gloomy, overcast skies,a storm had passed and the sun had broken through. About her were lightand music, the merry faces of children and girls with everywhere joyous,full throated, light hearted laughter. And the spirit of her ran out tomeet the simple joy of the dance, glad just to be glad again.
Thornton knew that he had found her before she turned her face towardhim. He recognized the trim little figure although now the riding habitwas discarded for a pretty gown of white which he guessed her own quickfingers had fashioned for the dance; he recognized the white neck withthe brown tendrils of hair rebelling from the ribbon-band about herhead. And then, when she turned a little, he stared at her from hisvantage in the outside darkness, wondering if she had grown prettierthan ever in the few weeks since he had seen her, or if it were thedress and the way she wore her hair with a white flower in it, or if hehad been half blind that other time.
There was a warm, tender flush upon her cheeks telling of her happiness.Her eyes shone, soft in their brightness, and her lips were red with theleaping blood of youth. She had turned to speak with Mrs. Sturgis, thestoutest, jolliest and altogether most motherly woman in the valley, andMrs. Sturgis, watching her eyes and lips and paying no attention to herwords, put out her plump hands suddenly, crying heartily:
"You pretty little mouse! If I had just one wish I'd wish I was a man,an' I'd just grab you up in my arms an' I wouldn't stop goin' until Iset you down in front of a preacher. Come here an' let Mother Mary kissyou."
"There's a woman with brains for you, Buck," chuckled Broderick.
Thornton, though he agreed very heartily just then, did so in silence.
"It's Winifred Waverly," went on Broderick carelessly. "She's HenryPollard's niece, you know. A little beauty, don't you think?"
Thornton nodded. Again he had agreed but he did not care to discuss herwith Ben Broderick. The miner laughed lightly, and added for Thornton'sfurther information,
"As keen a d
ancer as she is a looker. And a flirt from the drop of thehat! Had the last dance with her. Which reminds me I better hurry anddown my booze and get back. I'm going to rope her for the next dance,too."
Broderick went his way for his bottle. Thornton did not speak, did notturn, did not move that a man might see. But the fingers of the hand athis side twitched suddenly and for a moment were tense.
"Pollard can't help being mostly rattlesnake," he muttered angrily. "Buthe ought to be man enough to keep his own blood kin away from BenBroderick's kind. Lord, Lordy, but it's sure enough hell folks can'thelp having uncles like Ben Pollard. Poor little girl!" And then,thoughtfully, his eyes filled with speculation as they rested uponWinifred Waverly, "Mother Mary Sturgis was absolutely right!"
Now the fiddler was tuning with long drawn bow, and the patting of theguitarist's foot told that he was ready. Thornton, tossing his hat tothe teacher's desk just outside the door, entered the building andstrode straight to the girl. Other men were hurrying across the flooreager to be first to ask this or that demurely waiting maiden for thedance, but Thornton was well in the lead. He nodded and smiled and spoketo many of the women whom he knew, but he did not stop until he came toWinifred Waverly and Mrs. Sturgis. There he was stopped by the olderwoman who had not read his intentions, and who, thinking that he wasgoing by, took his arm in her two plump hands.
"Why, Buck Thornton, you rascal, you!" she cried heartily. "Where youbeen all year? I ain't seen you since I c'n remember. An' where youthink you're goin', stampedin' along like a runaway horse?"
"Howdy, Mother Mary," he returned as they shook hands. "I was headedright here to see you and Miss Waverly. Howdy, Miss Waverly."
The eyes which the girl turned upon him were wide with surprise. She hadhad no thought that he would come here tonight. Surely he must know thather uncle, the man whom he had robbed, was here! And Broderick,too--another man whom he had robbed! And how many others? And yet he hadcome, he seemed careless and without uneasiness, he dared to speak withher quite as if that which had happened in Harte's cabin had neveroccurred outside of his own imaginings. He even had the assurance to putout his hand to her! As though she would touch him!...
"Take your pardners for a waltz!" cried Chase Harper of the Tres Pinos,he of the small boots, coming in through the door, wiping his mouth andresuming his duties as "caller" of the dances. "Shake a leg, boys!"
The hurried progress of men in search of "pardners" became a race, bootsclumped noisily against the floor, the cowboys swooped down upon theline of women folks, often enough there was no spoken invitation to thewaltz as a strong arm ran about a lithe waist, the fiddle scraped, theguitar thrummed into the tune, and with the first note they weredancing.
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