CHAPTER 32
Denny had danced with Markham at the wedding, so she knew he was surprisingly graceful and light on his feet. She enjoyed herself as they circled and swung around in intricate steps, along with many other people attending the social.
They danced through three songs before Denny, slightly breathless, suggested that they sit the next one out.
“All right,” Markham said. “Want some punch?”
Denny laughed. “If I want any, I’d better have it now before all the cowboys here manage to spike it. Pearlie has told me that by the end of some of these gatherings, what was in the punch bowl was mostly whiskey.”
“Don’t the sheriff try to stop ’em from doin’ that?”
“He does, but you know how tricky cowboys can be.”
“Reckon I do,” Markham said with a chuckle.
“And by now, it’s kind of a tradition, I think. So maybe Sheriff Carson doesn’t try really hard to stop them, after the evening reaches a certain point.”
“Sounds like a smart man. I’ll fetch the punch. Where’ll you be?”
“I’m going to look for my parents and Brad and see how they’re doing.”
“I’ll find you,” promised Markham. He began making his way through the crowd toward the side of the room where the long tables with the punch bowls were set up.
Denny soon lost sight of him and headed for the front of the room. She knew Smoke and Sally might have danced a little, but mostly at the socials they spent their time greeting and talking to friends. No one in the valley had more friends than Smoke and Sally Jensen.
Denny found them where she expected to. Her mother was sitting on one of the chairs next to the wall, with Smoke standing beside her. Pearlie and Brad were with them. Denny smiled at Pearlie and said, “I thought you intended to dance with all the widow women.”
“I’ve made a start on it,” he replied with a grin, “but I ain’t as young as I used to be, you know. A feller’s got to catch his breath now and then.”
“And I thought you were going to play with the other kids outside,” she said to Brad.
“I’m goin’ to,” he said. “I kind of like the music, though, even if I don’t want to dance.” He lifted the cup of punch he held. “And I wanted to get some punch, too.”
“I figured it was still early enough to be safe,” Smoke said, dropping a knowing wink.
“Safe from what?” Brad wanted to know.
“Never mind about that,” Sally told him. “When you finish, you can go find your friends. Just don’t wander off away from the town hall.”
“I won’t,” the youngster promised.
Smoke said to Denny, “How are things going with Markham?”
“Fine. He’s a good dancer.”
“Earlier, before things really got started, I saw a little commotion over by the door. What was that about?”
Denny wasn’t surprised that her keen-eyed father had spotted the confrontation with Brice. Smoke didn’t miss much of anything that was going on around him. She said, “It didn’t amount to anything. Brice just wanted to talk to me for a minute.”
“He didn’t try to cause any trouble? A lawman’s got feelings like anybody else, you know.”
“It’s fine,” Denny insisted. “We just needed to clear the air.”
Smoke nodded without probing any further.
Brad gulped down the rest of his punch and then hurried out to join the other children. He passed Markham, who was approaching holding two cups. “Hey, Steve,” Brad greeted the cowboy as he rushed past.
“Howdy,” Markham called after him, then, grinning, he held out one of the cups to Denny. “Here you go.”
She took it and said, “Thank you.” When she sipped the bright red liquid, she nodded. “Not extra potent . . . yet.”
“I might have some more once it is, too.” He nodded to Smoke and Sally. “Howdy, Mr. Jensen, Miss Sally. I don’t mean to say that I plan on gettin’ drunk or nothin’—”
“I know what you meant, Steve,” Smoke told him. “It’s fine, as long as you take good care of my daughter.”
“Oh, I intend to, sir. You got my word on that.”
Sally asked, “Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Markham?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, I sure am. Where I come from, folks didn’t really get together like this. They was always too busy tryin’ to scrape out a livin’, I reckon. There wasn’t much time for enjoyin’ life. They just tried to survive it.”
“That sounds terrible,” Sally told him with a shake of her head.
“It wasn’t really that bad, I reckon. Just a matter of what you’re used to.”
Smoke said, “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“No, sir. I grew up down in south Texas, not far from the border. It was pretty rough country in those days.”
“From what I hear, it still hasn’t settled down all that much.”
“No, and I don’t reckon it ever will. They grow folks prickly down there, just like the chaparral.”
Smoke laughed. “I’ve been there a few times. You’re right!”
Denny was glad to see her father and Markham getting along. Smoke had warned her not to get too serious about this cowboy, and she didn’t intend to, but as long as he was around, there was no reason they couldn’t have a pleasant friendship.
And when the day came that he decided to ride away, Denny told herself she could accept that, too.
They stood there chatting and sipping punch through two songs, then Markham said, “I’m about ready to get back out there and start traipsin’ around the floor again. How about you, Denny?”
Denny drank the little bit of punch left in her cup and nodded. “That sounds good to me.”
“Give me your cups,” Smoke said. “I’ll take them back over to the table.”
They did so, and then Markham took Denny’s hand as the musicians finished one song and got ready to start another. The guitar player who was the leader of the group talked to the other members while the dancers stood and talked as they waited. From the looks of it, there was some minor disagreement among the musicians about what the next tune should be.
During that pause, Brice Rogers suddenly appeared at Denny’s elbow. She had seen him a few times while she and Markham were dancing earlier. Brice hadn’t found himself another partner and gone out on the floor. Instead he had been standing against the wall with some of the other men who weren’t dancing. He’d had a scowl on his face, and Denny figured he was still brooding over the whole situation.
“You told me you’d give me a dance,” he said to her.
Markham started to say something, but Denny put a hand on his arm to stop him. Things were less likely to escalate into a real problem if she handled it and Markham just stepped back.
“That’s not exactly what I said,” Denny responded to Brice. “I told you you could ask, but I didn’t say how I’d answer.”
“Well, are you gonna, or not?”
Something was off about him, Denny realized. At first she wondered if he might be drunk. Even though she hadn’t seen any evidence of it, she was sure that flasks were being passed around among some of the men as they snuck nips of whiskey.
She decided that wasn’t the case with Brice. His eyes were clear, and she didn’t smell any liquor on him. He was just upset, she thought, and that was because she had come to the social with Steve Markham and not him.
“I’m sure there are plenty of girls here who would be happy to dance with you, Brice,” she said. “More than happy. You’re a handsome man, and everyone respects you.”
The compliment didn’t work. He just snapped, “Not everybody.”
Markham couldn’t restrain himself any longer, despite Denny urging him to do so. He said, “That’s right, mister. Some of us just wish you’d go away and leave us the hell alone.” Then he did possibly the worst thing he could have done. He slung an arm around Denny’s shoulders, smirked at Brice, and said, “Ain’t that right, honey?”
Denny saw the rage flare to life in the deputy marshal’s eyes and said hastily, “Brice, don’t—”
The plea came too late and probably wouldn’t have done any good anyway. With a snarled curse, Brice lunged forward and swung a punch with blinding speed at Markham’s jaw.
Markham was taller and heavier than the lawman, but Brice packed a lot of power in his compact frame. The blow landed cleanly and knocked Markham away from Denny. He backpedaled a quick couple of steps and lost his balance, falling to the floor as several people waiting for the dancing to start again scrambled out of the way.
Markham landed hard but bounced right back up. Denny let out a despairing groan as the cowboy pushed himself to his feet, growled something incoherent, and charged at Brice with fists clenched and ready to lash out.