Chapter 10
Wearing his best shirt and the jeans that didn’t have rips from barbed wire, Blade sat on the leather couch sandwiched between Running Bear and Brownie.
Brownie was gussied up in pressed corduroy slacks and wide suspenders. A thick coat of new polish on his boots reflected the late afternoon sunlight.
Running Bear’s deerskin vest was embroidered with green vines and colorful flowers. Blade didn’t feel comfortable asking if his dead wife had done the intricate beadwork. For all he knew, the big man was handy with a needle and thread. He was good at everything else.
Running Bear stretched out his legs and scuffed the sole of his boot across Brownie’s boot toe. His eyes gleamed devilishly. “So sorry.”
Brownie glared at him, and then returned his focus to the stairs. “What’s takin’ so long up there?” he yelled.
Privately, Blade seconded the question.
Three knocks sounded from the hallway upstairs. A door opened and shut. Then, it was silent again.
“Crimeny.” Brownie jumped up and paced around the sitting room. “She knows I need to tune my fiddle. Now we’re gonna be late, and—”
Zed rapped on the upstairs wall like a majordomo. He wore ironed pants, a bright yellow shirt, and a tailored black jacket. He started down the stairs.
A step behind him, Stormy followed.
Blade leaned forward and gripped his knees.
She looked lovelier than a pampered St. Louis Society debutante. The flowing skirt of the emerald dress swirled around her legs. The top hugged her curves, breasts to waist to hips. Unbraided, her hair shimmered like the western sky at sunset, and her eyes shone with a vulnerability that made him ache to be her protector.
“Saying goodbye to your heart, Little Brother?” Running Bear asked softly.
~ ~ ~
As soon as he rode onto the field next to Prosperity’s schoolhouse, Blade knew his plan would work.
Twenty teams and wagons had already formed a wide semi-circle, and more were pulling in behind the Hawkins’ buckboard.
Women in dancing dresses arranged platters of food on long tables. A short distance away, men dipped tin cups into an open barrel and toasted each other. Roughhousing children raced around poles topped with glowing lanterns, ignoring their mothers’ shouts to stay clean.
Ginny Dunn waved as Zed set the buckboard brake.
Carrying his weather-beaten fiddle case, Brownie rushed toward a cluster of musicians, tuning their instruments.
Running Bear walked toward the food tables with cloth-covered baskets.
Blade dismounted and helped Stormy down from the back of the buckboard. Tonight, everyone would see her in a new light. The gossip would spread like a wildfire.
To enhance his plan, Zed had suggested Stormy wear her mother’s light blue cape to protect her dress during the ride into town. With her dress hidden until she started to dance, she’d stun the townspeople who usually mocked her.
He pulled her into the shadows cast by a tall-sided wagon. “Time for another dance lesson, Stormy.”
She nodded without looking up at him. He could tell she was nervous, eyeing the growing circle of wagons and people.
He understood her fear of ridicule. He’d quit St. Louis in the middle of the night, rather than endure Society’s gossip about why Miss Candace Kennedy had discarded him for his younger brother, Jared.
He went on. “Waltzing requires communication and leadership. I am the man, your superior. You are a woman, my—”
“What?”
“Good. I have your attention.” He faced her, picked up her hand, and slid his work-roughened fingers across the silky small of her back. “Put your hand on my arm. When it’s time to go backwards, I will do this.” He raised his elbow slightly. “When I want to go forward, I will press like this.” He pushed his fingertips against her back.
Her mouth formed an ‘o’ of astonishment.
“All you have to do is follow my lead. Step forward, step to the side, step together.” Fighting her stiff-legged hesitancy, he pulled her along. “Think of it this way, Stormy. We’re a steer. I’m the head, and you’re the tail.” He waited a moment to let the description sink in.
She smiled half-heartedly.
“Let’s try again. This time, we’ll go backwards. Back, side, together.” He lifted his arm. “You’re doing great. Now a quarter turn.” He pivoted as he stepped forward.
Her nose crashed into his chest, and she hopped back. “I can’t do this. I’ll never be good at dancing.”
“Just turn off your thoughts and listen with your body.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Stormy. You’re a smart, talented, beautiful woman.” To convince her, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers.
The soft rush of her sigh warmed his cheeks. Mesmerized, he pulled her close and bent to truly kiss her.
Before his lips reached hers again, he came to his senses. She was engaged, and his heart was off limits—for life.
He cleared his throat and reassumed a proper dance position. “Let’s start over. I’m the man, your superior. You’re a woman, my—”
She squeezed his fingers hard. “You might be the dancing steer’s head, buster, but my hind end will kick you to Kingdom Come if you make me fall. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He counted aloud to three and moved.
She followed, responding to his signals with more ease. Forwards, backwards, glide into a turn. Her scowl softened.
The musicians launched into a lively, welcoming tune. Couples drifted onto the grass and clapped in time to the music.
He practiced with Stormy until the first tune ended. Then, he tossed her cape into the back of the buckboard and laced his fingers between hers. “Keep your chin up and smile. You’re the belle of the ball.”
~ ~ ~
Stormy tried to shake free as Blade towed her into the dancing circle, but he ratcheted his grip until her fingers threatened to go numb. She wanted to hover near the edge for a quick getaway when the teasing became too much to bear. And, she wanted more time to figure out why he’d kissed her.
People began to point and whisper behind their hands.
She knew what they were saying. Here comes Stormy Hawkins. Never acts like a lady. Can’t catch a man. Can’t dance, neither. Get ready for a laugh.
One by one, the musicians stopped playing. Even Brownie. He’d said she looked nice, but family always did that. Blade had just called her beautiful, and she knew why. He’d bought her dress. It was lovely.
Blade didn’t stop until he was right in front of the musicians’ platform. He turned her around to face the gawking crowd. “Good evening,” he shouted. “I’m Blade Masters, the new hand at the Hawkins Ranch. Miss Stormy and I have come to dance.”
Titters and one loud guffaw ricocheted through the air.
Face on fire, Stormy stared at the ground and prayed for a hole to swallow her up.
After a silence that seemed to drag on forever, caller Ibra McSweeney clapped his hands. “First dance is Pop the Weasel, folks. Grab a partner. Six couples to a set. Line of ladies and one of gents.”
Blade tugged her into a set headed by Anna Lee and her husband Andrew.
“Mercy me.” Anna leaned close. “Where have you been hiding that dress?”
Before she could answer, the music started. Ibra called, “First couple down the line. Come right back. Come right back.”
Holding hands, Andrew and Anna danced down the line and back.
“Take lady number two and circle ‘round, circle ‘round. Then, pop her home, pop her home.”
Anna and Andrew joined hands with Stormy and circled in time with the music. Then, they raised their arms and popped her back in line.
Blade was next. Despite her nervousness, Stormy laughed along with everyone in their set when he had to duck low to pop under Andrew and Anna’s upstretched arms.
“Now a waltz,” Ibra called, “to get the old folks off their duffs.”
Blade stepped close. “Remember, I lead and you—”
She gulped. “Follow.”
His fingertips pressed on her waist. She stepped forward, silently counting one, two, three.
After several successful quarter turns, she didn’t feel like the hind end of a steer. Her body responded to Blade’s signals, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t dance like a peg-legged pirate.
People standing under the soft, magical glow of the lantern lights pointed and smiled as she and Blade glided past. She looked up to see him grinning at her.
“See,” he said. “There’s nothing to it. Now, let’s have some fun.”
They sashayed past Zed and Ginny Dunn. The thought that she should order Zed to sit down vanished when he waved with one finger. He looked as happy as she felt, ready to dance with Blade all night.
When the waltz number ended, Emil Anderssen tapped Blade on the shoulder.
She flashed Blade a pleading look, but he stepped away and gestured for Emil to take his place.
It took all her concentration to avoid Emil’s toes until she figured out he bent his knees before he stepped forward, and blew through his mouth before he went backward. He never turned.
Calvin Farber rushed up and asked her to dance next. His crisp white shirt was buttoned up to the collar, and his hair was slicked down with smelly eau de quinine. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
“Calvin, are you nervous?”
“Yes. You have improved much more than I.”
“There’s a trick. Want me to show you?”
“Oh, yes.” A grateful smile brightened his well-scrubbed face. “I’d like to dance with Julia Janklow at least once this evening.”
After some pushing and pulling, Calvin allowed her to lead. She lifted her elbow and squeezed his arm, repeating in a hushed voice what each signal meant. When the music stopped, he thanked her for the lesson and rushed off.
Stormy drew a sigh of relief. Leading was nice, but she wanted to follow Blade again. Feel her skin tingle under his touch and have everyone notice that she was singled out by the handsomest ranch hand at the dance. She rose high on her tiptoes and scanned the dancing circle.
Charley Beedle stepped directly in front of her, his pudgy face level with hers. She angled her head to evade his stare and spotted Blade dancing with Constance Freeport.
Coupled together, Blade and Constance could have won a dance contest. Their legs moved effortlessly. Their glides seemed well rehearsed. Blade lifted his hand, twirled her twice, and drew her back into his embrace, laughing at something she must have said.
The music stopped, and she realized Charley was speaking to her.
“I said, you look like a lady tonight.”
“Thank you, Charley.”
“And, I said Mother and I want to call on you tomorrow.”
“No!” The word flew from her mouth before she could stop it.
The shocked look on his face pained her conscience. A mule had kicked Charley in the head five years ago, and he’d never fully recovered.
“I’m sorry, Charley. I know your mother doesn’t work on Sundays, but there’s a bad break in the fence in the northwest pasture. I have no idea how long it will take to fix it.” She let her voice trail off. She’d never had to fend off his attention when she wore her own clothes to Founders Day. “Charley, would you excuse me?”
She didn’t wait for his approval. If she wore the cape over her dress for the rest of the evening, maybe people would leave her be.
Laura Boe stopped her. “Land sakes, child. You look fine this evening.” The seamstress reached out and fussed with the shoulders of her dress. The gesture was soothing, almost motherly. “Clothes don’t make the woman, but they shore do help. Next time you need another dress, you just come to me. I’ll sew you up.”
“There you are.”
Blade’s voice sent a sensual ripple through Stormy’s body. She tried to appear nonchalant as he approached, though her heart boomed like a kettle drum.
He reached for the seamstress’ hand. Two coins fell into her palm. “I think you’re going to get more sewing orders after tonight.”
Stormy swallowed a lead lump of disappointment. Blade liked the dress, not her. “I hope you do, Mrs. Boe,” she said with false cheerfulness. None of those orders would be hers. She wasn’t a fancy-dress girl or even a dress girl. Her wardrobe was boots, shirts, and denims. Working clothes for a woman who worked like a man.
Emma Schultz danced by.
Laura launched into a detailed explanation about the differences between Emma’s dress and Stormy’s. Neither she nor Blade seemed to notice when Stormy backed away.
Stormy skulked though the shadows near the buckboard. Her temper was ready to explode. This dress was Blade’s idea, not hers. She’d only worn it to make Zed happy.
‘Miss Stormy and I have come to dance.’ Bah. Blade had used her to make a grand entrance. By rights she should jump on his mare and make him hitch a ride home with her father.
A carriage pulled up. Four women wearing short red dresses and blue-feathered shawls stepped out. Making far too much noise, they paraded toward the dancing circle.
Stormy tied on her cape and unhooked Belinda’s reins.
“Leaving so soon?” Jonathan Vance startled her.