CHAPTER 16
Some of the guests headed back to their homes, either in Big Rock or on one of the other spreads in the valley, after the meal was over, but most stayed to enjoy the rest of the day and some would even spend the night.
Youngsters organized games or just chased each other around, squealing happily, while the grown-ups sat at the tables or stood in the shade under the trees as they caught up with their friends on everything that had happened since the last time they had seen each other. Births, deaths, other marriages, good roundups and bad, all were topics of great interest.
Clouds of pipe and cigar smoke filled the air above some of the groups as the men hashed out the country’s problems and what the government ought to do about them. The weather was also a popular subject. It had been good lately, mighty good, but everybody figured that couldn’t last. It was probably going to be a hot, dry summer.
By the middle of the afternoon, some of the kids had gotten sleepy and crawled into the backs of wagons to take naps. More than one adult stifled a yawn and wished that he or she could follow the example of those young’uns. A siesta sounded like a mighty good idea.
Smoke, Sally, Louis, and Melanie sat in cane-bottom chairs on the front porch. Later, Louis and Melanie would be leaving in a buggy bound for town, where they would spend their wedding night at the Big Rock Hotel before catching a train for Chicago the next morning. Their plans called for them to spend a couple of weeks on a wedding trip that would also include visits to Philadelphia and New York. Brad would remain on the Sugarloaf while they were gone.
In the late afternoon, ranch hands under Cal’s direction began hanging lanterns from tree limbs and along the awning over the porch that ran around three sides of the main house. Fiddle players rosined up their bows, and guitar pickers tuned and tightened strings. The sleepy respite was ending, and the buzz of anticipation for the evening’s festivities began rising. Louis and Melanie would have the first dance, of course, but then they would slip away and everyone else would join in.
Smoke left the others on the porch to go talk to Cal and Pearlie. He told them, “Keep your eyes open this evening. I imagine there’ll be some cowboys passing around flasks, and I don’t want things to get out of hand.”
“You’re right about that,” said Pearlie. “Wouldn’t surprise me none if some of the boys are a mite snockered already from sneakin’ sips of that Who-hit-John.”
“As long as they don’t get carried away, that’s fine,” Smoke said. “I just don’t want any brawls breaking out.”
“We’ll keep the lid on, Smoke, don’t worry about that,” Cal promised.
“Say, earlier I told that fella Markham to talk to you about a riding job.”
“Do you want me to hire him?” asked Cal.
Smoke said, “That’s up to you. Yeah, he helped Denny when she’d gotten herself in trouble, but that doesn’t mean he’d make a good hand. I trust your judgment, Cal. If you think there’s anything off about him, just tell him that we’re not hiring anybody right now.”
“Speakin’ of that . . .” Pearlie began.
Smoke looked at his old friend. “What is it?”
“You know that young fella rode back in with me from Elephant Butte. After I caught that Rocket hoss, I started back in this direction and came across him trudgin’ along and leadin’ his horse. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to let him ride double with me.”
Smoke nodded, knowing that Pearlie had to proceed at his own rate in revealing whatever he was thinking.
“Well, we talked some, of course, and he seemed like a mighty friendly sort. Wanted me to tell him some about Miss Denny, but I sorta steered clear of that. Didn’t want to talk out of turn, you know.”
Cal didn’t have the same sort of patience that Smoke did. “Are you getting to a point here, Pearlie? Was there something about Markham you didn’t like?”
“Nope, not at all,” Pearlie answered without hesitation. “Seems like a plumb friendly fella. It’s just that somehow he looks familiar to me. I’m pretty darned sure we ain’t ever met before, but when I look at him, it seems like he oughta be somebody I know. He ain’t, though.”
“He’s not that distinctive,” Smoke said with a shrug. “Just another young cowboy.”
“Yeah, I reckon. It just struck me as sorta odd, and I ain’t been able to shake the feelin’.”
Cal nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind when I talk to him tomorrow. Maybe ask him a few questions and see if I get straight answers.”
Smoke clapped a hand on the foreman’s shoulder. “That sounds like a good idea. Let me know what you decide about him, Cal.”
As Smoke headed back toward the house, he saw the very man they’d been talking about. Steve Markham was walking toward the trees, and he looked like a man on a mission.
* * *
“I’ve come to claim that dance, Miss Denny.”
She turned around, not the least bit surprised to see Steve Markham standing there. At least he’d been polite enough to take his hat off before he spoke to her, but he still had that cocky grin on his face.
Denny had been talking to a few girls from Big Rock with whom she was acquainted. They laughed at Markham’s forthright proclamation, and one of them said, “We’ll see you later, Denny.”
“Wait!” she said. “You don’t have to—”
It was too late. They were already walking away, laughing and talking among themselves.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Denny turned back to Markham and said, “The dancing hasn’t even started yet. It won’t until my brother and his wife have had their first dance together. And I don’t recall promising you a dance at all, Mr. Markham.”
“Call me Steve,” he suggested. “And I reckon you’ll find that I’m a persistent cuss, Miss Denny. As soon as I laid eyes on you . . . well, as soon as I figured out you was a gal, anyway, and not some cowhand . . . I said to myself that there was a gal I’d plumb admire to have a dance with, even though, like I’ve said, I ain’t much of a dancer. Or more ’n one dance, even. I’d fill up your dance card if I could, but if I did that, your feet ’d probably be pretty sore from gettin’ stepped on before the evenin’ was over. I’m hopin’ I can make these ol’ clodhoppers of mine do like they’re supposed to for one dance. I’ll do my dead level best, I can promise you that.”
Denny narrowed her eyes at him. “I was starting to wonder how long you could go on without taking a breath.”
His grin took on a sheepish cast. “I do ramble a mite sometimes, don’t I? I reckon that comes from ridin’ by myself so much. If I didn’t talk, I wouldn’t have nobody to listen to.”
Denny looked at him for a moment and then finally nodded. “One dance. Will that satisfy you?”
“Well, I don’t know about satisfied”—he held up a hand quickly when her look started to turn to a glare—“but I reckon I can make do just fine, thanks. And I really do appreciate your kindness.”
“The dancing should be starting soon. You can have the first one with me—”
“It’s a plumb honor, that’s what it is.”
“And we can get this over with,” Denny finished. When she saw the slightly crestfallen look on his face, she thought maybe she was being a little too harsh. But he was so sure of himself that he annoyed her, whether that was his intention or not.
Markham hung around, yammering about things that Denny barely paid attention to as the light in the sky faded and the warm yellow glow from the lanterns grew stronger. A quartet of cowboy musicians climbed onto the porch and warmed up for a while.
Smoke greeted them and said, “Len, Bob, Tim, Hugh, are you boys ready?”
“We sure are, Smoke,” one of the young punchers answered. He looked at the others and grinned. “Hit it, boys.”
The music welled up as Louis took Melanie’s hand and led her down the steps. Taking her in his arms, they began sweeping gracefully around the open area in front of the house while everyone looked on in respectful silence. After a few minutes, they paused and Louis lifted an arm to wave the crowd forward as he called, “Friends, please, join us!”
Over under the trees, Markham said to Denny, “Dang, that’s sweet. It’s gettin’ me all misty-eyed.”
Denny took his big, rough hand and said, “Oh, come on. If you’re determined to dance with me.”
“I durned sure am,” he said as he clapped his hat on with his other hand and they joined the crowd filling up the open ground.
Despite what Markham had said about being clumsy, he was actually a decent dancer, Denny found. He moved well, had no trouble leading, and after a few wary moments, she wasn’t really worried about her toes getting stepped on.
“You’re doing all right,” she said grudgingly.
“That must be because I got the best dance partner there ever was.”
“You don’t have to keep flattering me, you know. I’m already dancing with you.”
“It ain’t flattery. I’m just tellin’ it the way it seems to me. Between that good music them boys are playin’, and havin’ you in my arms to inspire me, Miss Denny, this is the best I ever danced, I promise you.”
Surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth, she said, “You don’t have to call me Miss Denny. You can just call me Denny.”
The big grin lit up his face. “Does that mean you’ll call me Steve?”
“I suppose so.”
“Well, this is turnin’ into an even better night than I expected!”
“Don’t get carried away,” she warned him. “It’s one dance. And calling each other by our first names doesn’t mean anything.”
“It’s a start,” Steve Markham said.
Maybe he was right, thought Denny . . . and for some reason, that idea was vaguely troubling to her.