To Make My Bread (19 page)

“And I aim,” Granpap said, “t' get your part from Hal Swain to-morrow.”

“Hal Swain's been mighty clever to us, Pap.”

“And to me,” Granpap said. “He's a good friend. But you and the young ones must have your rights.”

“Basil's a-going t' do right. You wait and see,” Emma said. “We'll get that money.”

E
VERYONE
had money that late winter and spring. They had got a second payment for their land. Some who hadn't given in to Hal Swain sold straight to the agent of the lumber company. The cabins and clearings were theirs rent free. And there would be no end to ready money, for the mill would need hands to build it and to cut timber and make road and work around the saws.

A vast excitement had come. Behind all men's quietness the excitement shone in their eyes and showed in the way they behaved at the store, careless and free about money. Best of all there would be more dances than ever, and Granpap expected good collections. The McClures would be rich even without the other money for the cabin.

It was queer about that money. Hal Swain said he had paid the first installment to Basil. This was the installment they had promised Emma. Basil already had the second; but Hal had no receipt for the first payment and Basil swore that Hal had given his word to pay it to Emma or give her credit at the store. Granpap demanded Emma's share. At last Basil and Hal, through writing each other letters, arranged for Hal to give Emma fifteen dollars worth of credit at the store or fifteen dollars in cash. Granpap decided for the cash. It was paid into his hand and he gave it to Emma. She put it deep down in a corner of the trunk where she or Granpap could reach down and bring up one of the big silver pieces when it was needed. Some of them had already gone to Hal for payment on food.

The first dance was at Fraser McDonald's. Granpap took John along for company just as he had taken Kirk and Basil when John was no more than a baby. Though it was early when they crossed the bridge and came close to the McDonald cabin, they could hear the sound of animals down to the right under some trees. A horse moved in the underbrush, and the other animals breathed deep as if they were sleeping. There were not many, for most of the people who came used shank's mare, for they had no beasts to ride. Since the money had come, however, several had purchased animals from Swain. A strong light came from the front door of Fraser's cabin. There would be no sales at the store that night, and Hal Swain had loaned the big lamp that hung from the center of the store ceiling. Inside the cabin someone was picking a banjo.

“Sam's here,” Granpap said. His voice trembled a little. This was his first dance for nearly two years. Waves of warmth came up in John. His legs shook under him. He was as trembling in his body as Granpap's voice.

The old man marched up the steps across the porch and into the front room. John followed. The room was quite empty of furniture except for the two chairs in a corner for the musicians. On one of them Sam Wesley waited for Granpap. All the other furniture, a bed, a table, and two chairs, had been carried to the back porch. The table was just outside the back door and on it were some jugs of cider and a cup. Anyone who wanted a drink had only to reach out from the room and help himself.

Granpap walked over to the chair and took his place by Sam. He knew just where he must go. John stood in the middle of the empty floor. The room seemed huge to him, though it was a very small one. The boy's knees almost gave way under him and the opposite wail seemed miles away. He was like a young calf that has not yet got the full use of its legs. Through the door at the left he saw girls and women in a bedroom, sitting around the fire and on the built-in bed. They were all over the bed, and a twittering came from the room like the twittering of birds in a laurel thicket.

There was nothing for a boy to do. All the men were out in the yard waiting until the music started. John walked slowly to the jug of cider and poured out a cup. Someone behind him laughed. He turned around fiercely. It was only Sam Wesley laughing at something Granpap had told him. John poured another cup. Granpap was tuning. He and Sam bent over their instruments and tried them out together. They played “Sourwood Mountain” and tuned again.

The tuning was heard. There were heavy steps on the porch. Feet scraped heavily on the flooring and into the room from the porch filed a procession of young men. A girl peeped shyly through the bedroom door. Others who had more courage pushed her out and followed. Most of their dresses were faded calico. They were flowers the rain has washed out. Here and there as they crowded into the room was a fresh flower just opened. Ora's Sally was one of these. With some of the land money Ora had bought Sally a new dress which made Sally a bright yellow flower, fully open.

Sally spun around on her heel and the skirt spun with her. It spread out under the light of the lamp. Everyone could see the ends of Sally's drawers but she didn't seem to know, until Fraser looked at her.

One of the men said, “You could balance a silver dollar on that skirt.” Then Sally saw Fraser's disapproving eyes. Suddenly she blushed red, and put her feet together firmly on the floor. With her hands flat against her thighs she pressed the skirt close to them. But she would not let Jesse think that he was her owner to disapprove of her actions. With a shake of her head she walked to the wall away from Jesse. Just before she reached the wall she turned and gave him a glance. Her eyes were dark and bright, as if she had squeezed jimson weed juice into them. Minnie had done this once to show John how it would make her eyes, which had been blue, round black balls. Some of the girls did it each time they went to a dance, and there were some of these who would make their eyes brighter for church. But it was not like Ora's Sally to do such a thing. Her eyes were bright from the pleasure and excitement of being at the dance, and having a fine looking beau who followed her with his eyes.

Jesse gave Sally a little time to wonder if he was going to join her. Then he walked over and took his place deliberately by her side. Gradually other men fell into place beside the girls. Some of them spoke low words that John could not hear and the girls nodded. Others simply took their places, as Jesse had, as if they belonged.

Granpap called out, “Get your pardners.” Everyone had partners as Granpap could see, but this was the way to begin. Only John had no partner, and he wanted none. He told himself he wanted to look on. There was no girl there, even Ora's Sally, who could please him. He did not know the steps, and a man had to be very proficient in order to swing the girls in the right direction and not get mixed in the figures. John wished to learn. He wanted to know many things, and this was one of them. So he watched carefully. He walked to the table, took another drink of cider, and pushing the table back little by little made a place for his feet on the porch. There were so many couples, the one just in front of John had to take all the space. But on the porch he was not in the way.

The fiddle and banjo began “Bile them cabbage down,” and Granpap's foot tapped out the time.

He called, “First couple out,” and Jesse swung Sally to the center of the circle and back to the second couple. Sally with her heels coming down at the right times danced about Lorene Wesley. Jesse sashayed around Lorene's partner. Regularly at the right beat their heels came down on the floor in time with the music. Sally danced around Lorene's partner and there was Jesse keeping time ready to swing Lorene when Granpap called, “Swing your opposites.” Then it was “Now your own,” and Lorene and Sally turned back to their own partners and lifted their arms to be swung again.

“Second couple out,” Granpap sang and Lorene and her partner swung into the middle of the floor and back to take the couple Jesse and Sally had just left. Soon another couple was out, making three groups within the whole group doing the same figure at the same time.

Then “Swing your opposite—now your own.”

And after that “Fourth couple out.”

The girls' skirts flared out when the men swung them. The skirts were a part of the dance. They emphasized the rhythm, just as the heels coming down together emphasized the rhythm. And everything was done with dignity. Jesse McDonald had a special way of giving an extra shuffle when he reached his partner. It was a real shuffle but so cleverly done he did not lose a step. Other men had fancy steps of their own. And each girl danced in her own way. Lorene always bent her head sideways on the man's arm when she was swung. She looked down at the end of her skirt as if she was a kitten trying to catch its tail. Sally stood up straight to her man with her hands planted firmly on his shoulders. She was the most graceful girl in the room. The McClure blood was in her. All of Ora's bony angles had been softened in Sally by the McClure blood.

Granpap's face was shining with sweat as he bent low over the fiddle. He had no need to watch the set. He called the figures regularly, evenly, without a hitch in time. He had turned on a switch of a machine and set it going. Knowing it well he had no need to give it any special attention because it was familiar and he could tell by the sound that it was running smoothly.

“Promenade all,” he called at exactly the moment when the last couple had finished the circle. The partners swung into place, the girls and men coupling their hands crosswise for the promenade around the room.

“Gents swing back” and all the men dropped back. Each left his partner for the man in front who came back to her. “Swing your ladies and promenade all.” Then it was “ Gents swing back” again and again until each man after promenading with each girl in the circle had returned to his own partner. Only then the music stopped and the dancers fell out of line. Granpap and Sam Wesley mopped their faces. Most of the men filed out of the front door. The cider was for the women. The men had their drinks tucked away in saddle bags or under the porch in jugs they had toted across the trails from their homes.

John helped himself to another cup of cider. As soon as the women came flocking to the table he ran from them to Granpap and Sam who were on the porch. Fraser McDonald was there. He had just given Granpap a jug and the old man leaned back his head to take a good full drink.

When the others went in for the second set John stayed on the porch. It was more comfortable there than standing in the little space between the table and the room. The men filed past him into the room and the music started again. From the porch the sound of the feet was stronger than the sound of the music; the music was only a whine but the feet made a stamping that John felt in his blood. He was one with the stamping feet and the house that shook, he, John McClure. And suddenly he wanted to go in and join with the rest, so that he might put his own stamp on the floor.

The second set was over sooner than the first, for the figure was “Hands across,” a very easy one. John had taken enough cider to fill a barrel and it was necessary to make room for more. He slipped around the house and out to the cow shed. It was not until he had begun that he heard girls giggling inside the shed.

As soon as possible he ran up the back porch and squeezed by the table into the room. Some of the men were still in there talking to girls. The party was getting more sociable. The girls by this time were not so shy, and the men, feeling the attraction of the girls, wanted to stay with them after the sets were over. Presently Sally and the McDonald girl came through the front door. They were red with giggling. Sally looked around, trying to spy out the men. She spoke to Lorene Wesley in a loud whisper. “Did you know hits raining outside?”

“No,” Lorene said, and went to look. When she saw the clear sky with its many stars out there she knew what Sally meant. She came over to the other girls and the three whispered together and then went off into fits of giggling. They fell into the bedroom, and the other girls, curious and a little hurt at being left out, followed the giggling girls into the bedroom. Soon there was a bedlam of women's talk and laughter in the other room. The men who were left behind looked straight in front. They had guilty faces as if each thought he was the one the girls were laughing about. It made John feel better to see their embarrassed, guilty faces. He took a drink of cider and smacked his lips over it. Then the men rallied. One of them gave a disgusted look at the bedroom door and walked out. The others followed him and John came along at the tail end. He stood on the porch, when they walked out into the yard, for he was still a boy and knew he would not be welcome. But he listened. Out there under the trees they began to talk and gradually their talk and laughter grew louder and more confident. They were telling stories about women, this John knew. How much better their great voices and big laughter were than the silly giggling inside. John slipped from the porch and was going down to hide in the dark so he might be nearer to the men, when Granpap got up from the other end where he had been sitting with the older men.