A jobless 18 year old farm boy struggles to find a proper girl to marry and otherwise improve his life. His troubled family, scheming females and the law threatens all.
Excerpt
Heck sat down next to Mr. Meade who led off with the lively, “Bile Them Cabbage Down.” The party was on. Rebel yells and feet stamping in time with the music got everyone’s blood flowing. Heck felt himself being lifted up and carried into another world.
Grandad Tennel fell in with them on the bass fiddle, and those still outside came in to watch and listen, occasionally glancing at Early who kept rhythm by beating his left leg stub against the box. Their expressions said they had been transformed as well.
What Mr. Meade’s fiddling lacked in smoothness was made up by gusto, and he never played a short version of anything, or in any key except “D.” He finally ended his first selection and began “Chicken Reel.” At that point Ubis Sproggs sprang out of the back room, grabbed his heavy wife, letting out with a big “Eee haaa!” as he swung her around with the abandon of a man under the influence. In spite of enthusiasm for the dance, however, he kept watch on the serving room so as not to miss a sale. Heck believed the only reason Ubis hadn’t hit him up for his share of the day’s sales in town was because his dad had already paid him.
Ending the second number, Mr. Meade paused for a swallow of whiskey from silver flask he pulled from his pocket. Slick and Shorty McLean took advantage of the break to follow Ubis into the back room. Mr. Meade began “Westphalia Waltz” and halfway through it, Slick reappeared and began dancing with Beulah Mae.
The new girl moved closer to watch her friend swing around the room with Slick, and for the first time, Heck got a look at her in full light. The glistening brown hair was curled on the ends, framing a smooth, round face and a turned-up nose that didn’t have a single freckle on it. Her wide mouth wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but her overall features formed a feminine quality he had never seen in Willa. Her eyes met his, she smiled and held his gaze without turning away, a look that told Heck she hadn’t come along with Beulah Mae just to be stimulated by a ride in the night air. Her obvious boldness caused him to drag rhythm with his guitar for a few bars, a mistake he seldom made.
The McLeans joined Slick and Beulah Mae on the dance floor, and by the time Mr. Meade had to stop to rest his arms, everybody seemed caught up in the spirit of the party. Early didn’t care that nobody had dropped any coins in his hat, thanks to Ubis slipping him a snuff glass full of shine. With his manhood restored and some good moonshine under his belt, he’d become a changed man.
His stepmother’s reaction to her own renewal was more subdued. She sat between Marna and Elsie on a bench against the back wall quietly observing their guests with an expression of detached contentment. She appeared unconcerned that she was, as usual, being shunned by her women neighbors.
Mr. Meade pulled out the flask again, saying with unaccustomed loudness, “Another shot or two of this, folks, and I’ll be ready to play “˜Orange Blossom Special.’ How about you, Ibsen?”
Grandpa Tennel nodded and said something that got drowned out by shouts of approval and applause from around the room. He had the voice of a sober man, always respected but seldom heard. Although no longer a churchgoer, he remained a devout Baptist at heart, never drinking whiskey except for medicinal purposes.
“I want to hear Heck sing,” Willa shouted.
“Yeah, Heck,” Slick said loudly. “Show Ruby what you can do.”
Heck looked at the tall city girl and she smiled. “All right,” he said, beginning a song he’d heard Jimmy Rodgers sing over the radio at Mr. Slater’s. A few bars into “Nobody’s Darling,” he took his eyes off Ruby for fear of becoming distracted and forgetting the lyrics. Even a glance at her during the chorus threatened his concentration, so he looked instead at the familiar faces in the room until he was finished. When he looked at her again, her gaze told him she was surprised a country boy could sing at all.
Willa shot Ruby another threatening look, causing Heck to suspect she might lunge across the room at any time and tear into the city girl, who up to that point had not sensed the danger she was in. Heck told himself to warn Ruby at the earliest opportunity.
Seeing the smiles and hearing the applause that followed his songs lifted Heck up like nothing else he had ever done. It made him feel important, appreciated and for a time, in charge of his life, which could be beautiful in spite of poverty.
He sang “When the Work’s All Done This Fall,” “Good-bye, My Little Darling” and “She’s My Curly Headed Baby.” Each number won him a vigorous round of applause, whistles and foot stampings, and it caused Ruby to move up so close he caught a whiff of her perfume. If Mr. Meade hadn’t swung out on “Arkansas Traveler,” Willa might have jumped her. Instead, she remained by the door, staring angrily at Heck and her new competition.
After the fiddle tune, Heck announced he was going to sing another song dedicated to Mr. Meade. At the start of “Pistol Packin’ Mama,” everyone loudly applauded, and his old friend smiled and saluted. When Heck was through, Mr. Meade began “Devil’s Dream,” which his audience clapped in time to.
Mr. Meade had barely got rolling good when he looked through the door of Ubis’s concession stand and abruptly stopped playing. Heck and his granddad gave him confused looks as they, too, stopped. All heads turned to the partition door, and an excited murmur ran through the room when they saw Sheriff Emmet Sloan standing there, so tall his black hat touched the top of the opening. Heck had never seen him look so big and threatening.
Ubis Sproggs stomped his foot so hard it made the floor shake. “Damn! Where’n hell did you come from?”
“Through the back door, Ubis. The one you always ran out of to hide this stuff when I came in the front.” The sheriff held up a half empty jar of whiskey.
A hush fell over the room as everybody waited to see what the sheriff’s next move would be. Calm and sure of himself in his customary black suit, white shirt and black string tie, he was a sight to put fear in the hearts of the worst of men.
Heck completely forgot about Ruby and their anticipated trip to the dark side of the yard. Damn. The sheriff’s come to arrest me.
“I’d haul you in, Ubis, if I wasn’t here on more important business,” he said.
I’m going to jail for sure. Heck almost pissed in his pants.
Sheriff Sloan looked slowly around the room as if expecting to see a face he hadn’t seen before. When his cold eyes stopped, Heck felt a fresh wave of panic sweep over him. He was unable to look at the fearsome man who had spoiled his musical, and might now put him in jail and spoil his life. To make matters worse, he sensed the big lawman was reading his every thought.
When the sheriff started walking toward him, Heck suddenly recalled a song he had sung at so many musicals, “I’m In the Jailhouse Now.” Taking on a whole new meaning, the lyrics pounded in his head like thunder before a storm.
Chapter XI
Sheriff Sloan loomed over Heck like Goliath over David, exuding such an air of absolute authority that it made him tremble. He tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. He wondered what Ruby thought of him now, cowering like a whipped puppy in front of his guests.
“I have good information that tells me the man who hustled you out of town this afternoon was Clyde Barrow’s driver,” the sheriff boomed.
Copyright 2008 Calvin Bowden. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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