Part 19 (1/2)

”Hi, Emma. I swear you get prettier every day. How you ever fell for an old he-c.o.o.n like Joe is something I'll never understand.” He s.h.i.+fted the fiddle to his other shoulder. Pete stood in the doorway, and seemed to be waiting.

”Play something, Yancey,” Emma pleaded. ”Play some music for us.”

”Sure. What do you want to hear?”

”Anything.”

Yancey Garrow took his fiddle out of its case, tucked it under his chin, and drew the bow across it a couple of times. He began a lively rendition of ”Yankee Doodle.” Her face flushed with pleasure, Barbara emerged from her room.

”Long while since I've danced with a girl as pretty as you are!” Pete Domley declared. ”Come on, Bobby.”

He whirled her around the room while Yancey increased the tempo of his music. Grinning, Joe took Emma in his arms. A shadow darkened the door and Fellers Compton was there.

”Stretch my ears and call me a jacka.s.s!” he breathed. ”You people get the best ideas of anybody in Missouri!”

He had a wrapped parcel in his hands and he put it down on the table.

”Caroline put up too much strawberry preserves and she hopes to unload some of it on you, now that you're going away. Keep playing, Yancey.

I'll be back.”

While Joe danced with Barbara and Pete Domley with Emma, Yancey played ”Oh, Susannah,” and then another of Foster's songs. Putting his fiddle aside for a second, Yancey dipped himself a drink of water. Barbara's and Emma's eyes were glistening, for the air was tense and expectant.

This was the way most parties started. Yancey put the gourd dipper beside the bucket of water just as old Tom Abend drove up with his wife, his three youngest children, his two married daughters, their husbands, and their children.

”Fellers said we might come over here to see what's goin' on,” he greeted.

”Right good idea,” Joe said.

Tom continued, ”One of my boys shot a buck last week, and we made jerky.

Lot more'n we can use so I brought some for you to take along.”

”Thanks, Tom.”

Joe saw Tom's amiable wife and daughters chatting with Emma. In addition to jerky, meant to go along with the departing wagon, they had brought four pies, several pounds of b.u.t.ter, some fresh venison, and two lanterns. Yancey swung into the plaintive melody of ”Ben Bolt” and Joe found himself dancing with one of Tom Abend's daughters while her husband danced with Emma.

The neighbors came on horse- and muleback, in wagons and carts, and on foot, with those who lived nearest arriving first. All bore gifts, and all explained that they simply had too much at home. The Towers would really be doing them a favor to take some of it off their hands. In addition, all brought whatever had been ready for a hoedown in the making. They overflowed the house and spilled out into the yard, but somebody had stretched a rope between the house and the barn and hung lighted lanterns on it. Tonight there would be no thought of saving lantern oil. Tonight was for fun.

Yancey played until he was tired, and then Les Tenney spelled him. While not as expert a fiddler as Yancey, Les knew a great many tunes, variations on those tunes, and when he could think of nothing else he improvised his own music. Joe saw Barbara dancing with Marcia Geragty, but only for a second. Grinning, two of Tom Abend's big sons separated the girls and danced them away. Dancing with eight-year-old Celia Trevelyan, Tad was having a wonderful time and even the babies danced with each other.

Inside the house, the table groaned under its weight of food and a huge pot of coffee, and those who were hungry could help themselves to as much as they wanted any time they wanted it. But n.o.body lingered inside for very long. Old Tom Abend tapped Joe on the shoulder.

”My sons-in-law got a c.o.o.n treed behind the barn. They want you to come help shake it out.”

”Sounds like fun.”

”It will be.”

Joe followed old Tom out of the light cast by the hanging lanterns and into the dark shadows cast by the barn. Tom's two husky sons-in-law stood beside the barrel of whisky that they had set up on blocks of wood and tapped. The crowd around the barrel increased as more men slipped away from the dance, and cups rattled as they were filled and pa.s.sed around. Old Tom said clearly.

”We'll drink to the Tower family and Oregon!”