no longer.'
Aaron ruffled her hair and said, 'That's okay, honey. I'll see her down at the dance hall, anyway. How's that new baby?' 'He looks just like me,' Newt bubbled. 'Ma said.'
'Well, we'll come down soon and see him, okay?' 'Wanna see him now, Aaron?' Newt asked hopefully, pulling on Aaron's hand. 'I better get down to the dance before Pris finds another beau. But I'll be back soon, huh?' 'Okay, Aaron.'
He left them waving him off and headed for the hall. Priscilla had never gone off to the dance like this, not since they'd been going together. He hadn't thought about her not being home-she'd always been before. Tonight, just when he'd decided to play things her way, now when he needed her there to steady him, she'd decided to stomp off to the dance and show him what-for. Well, maybe he de- served it, but why-oh, why! — did she have to choose right now?
The Bohemian Hall was heaving like the sides of a winded horse. Aaron could feel the ground shake clear outside. Set- tling the horse and rig, he could hear the sounds of the Shymek brothers, hard at the music. The lilt of the piano came through the windows, joined by a fiddle and concertina.
The hall served as Grange, polling place, township meeting house, and theater for school programs. Every Saturday night it was a dance hall-and the Bohemians gave it no pity. In- side, Aaron could feel the rhythmic quaking of the plank floor as the dancers beat it to a polka step.
The building was fronted by a small room that served as kitchen or taproom, depending on the occasion. The large main room was lined with tables and benches on three sides. Aaron scanned the scatter of benches, looking for Pris. He saw Cora first, for she sat facing the door at a table with Mr. and Mrs. Kvetek and their two daughters. Pris sat with her back to the dance floor, but the minute Cora saw Aaron she quickly leaned toward Pris. He detected a slight turn of her head in his direction, but she gave him only a quarter profile.
So she's still got her back up, he thought.
The dancers were dancing a waltz as he began threading his way through the crowd toward her to ask her to dance, but two single men reached Pris just as Aaron began to make his move. She walked out to the floor with one of them. Aaron had worked his way too near the Kveteks' table to change course now, and as he passed it he glimpsed Pris waltzing off to his right, while Cora called, 'Hi, Aaron,' with a singsong inflection he didn't like one bit and a glance to- ward Pris.
Smart-aleck snot-nose, he thought. He heard her and one of the Kvetek girls giggle as he moved off toward the taproom to buy a beer. He stayed back there by the wooden kegs to down the beer and consider the situation.
Pris didn't waste much time hangin' out her shingle! But he'd told her this was what he wanted, hadn't he? She was dancing with Willy Michalek again, and all Aaron could do was wait it out. But she finished the whole set with Michalek, and Aaron had another glass of beer while he waited for a new set to begin.
When the music struck up again, he crossed the floor and stepped behind Pris's chair. 'Dance, Pris?'
'Sure, Aaron,' she accepted.
The two punks across the table didn't smirk or giggle this time, but avoided looking at him as he took Pris onto the floor. 'What did you tell Cora about us?' he asked. 'She acts like I'm a cockroach she just found in her cream.' 'I didn't tell her anything about us. There's nothing to tell.' 'Well, she seems to think she should defend you.' 'Maybe I need defense against you.'
They were dancing now, but she stayed her distance and he didn't press her, didn't pull her against him in the old way. 'I didn't come here to fight,' he said. 'What, then, to make a conquest?' 'No, to make an apology.' And he meant it. 'It's too late for that. I don't want it anymore.' 'What do you mean 'anymore'?' he asked. 'I mean I've had time to do some thinking this week, and I've decided you're right. Why should I put all my apples in one basket? Maybe I'll pass a few around.' 'Come on, Pris, let me take you home and we can at least talk this out.' 'Sorry, Aaron, I already told Willy Michalek he could take me home.'
He really hadn't figured she'd move that fast, and it irked him. 'Passing your apples around already?' he couldn't help taunting. 'Look out, Priscilla, too many passes and you'll be applesauce.'
There was a sudden stab of pain in his right foot as Pris's heel mashed it onto the floorboards.
He tightened his grip around her waist with his arm and lifted her until her toes dangled above the floor. His foot hurt like hell, but it took both feet flat on the floor to hold her aloft. 'Aaron, you put me down this instant! If you don't I'll smash something else!' And her legs were thrashing against his. But he held her as she was, her hips pressed smack against his, her breasts tight against his chest, and an arm still around his shoulders. She grabbed a handful of his shirt to keep from tipping sideways. 'Anything you say, Miss Applesauce,' he grinned as he let her slide down against the front of him, all the way to the floor. 'You want someone to take home?' she flung at him. 'There! Try one of them?' And she pointed to the group of chippies who were near the door in their usual place. 'They're more your type!'
The dance was done, and she spun off toward her table. He followed, trying to appear as though he were showing her back to her place. But it was easy to see she was practic- ally running to escape him.
Well, he'd known she'd take some gentling, hadn't he? He'd give her a bit more time and then try again. He'd see her at church tomorrow. Maybe then he'd have better luck.
But the following morning when he approached her in the churchyard, he could tell she was as sour as she'd been the night before. 'Hello, Priscilla,' he said, attempting to neutralize her with an engaging smile.
She was having none of it.
'Will you come and have breakfast with me and Jonathan and Mary today?' 'I hardly think so,' she answered coldly. 'How long are you going to keep this up? I apologized, didn't I? Will you give me a chance to make it right?' 'You had your chance for a whole year.' 'Well, I'll take another day if you got it.' He tried to take her elbow, but she avoided his touch. 'I don't think you'll take anything more from me.' 'Did you have that good a time with Michalek last night?' 'At least he's a gentleman.'
He grew angry. His crime had been wanting her and hav- ing demonstrated it, that was all. 'Pris, it isn't every day I push you up against the corncrib wall. Can't you forget it?' 'Aaron Gray, you stand here making light of it right smack on the Lord's doorstep!' 'I figure the Lord's got enough to do without slappin' my hands for putting them where He intended they ought to be put, anyway.'
He was teasing, but he never should have said that, for she swirled in a quick, dust-lifting turn and strode away, and Aaron realized he'd only made matters worse.
Each day that went by now with himself and Priscilla still at odds made Aaron more determined to settle their quarrel. He gave it no words, but there was a feeling that he had to get Pris to take him back before Jonathan left on his trip.
If Aaron had known last winter that his approval of the plan to purchase a bull would lead to the situation he now found himself in, he would have objected then. But arguing about whether or not Jonathan should make the trip was now impossible. What would Mary think if he raised objec- tions? That he was afraid of what might happen if the two of them were left alone?
4
The fields of Moran lay at their blackest best, for the most part. The harrowing was nearly done, but the heavy drags had turned rocks up, seeking them out of their hiding spots and laying them bare and discovered above the ground, looking like blocks of salt on the peppery earth.
The tin bottom of the stone boat screeched along on the complaining soil, and with each 'Hiyup!' the horses worked harder at their growing load. Jonathan did very little whistling during stone-picking. The only breath he could spare was for the whistle that escaped his pursed lips when he'd hoisted another stone up and dropped it onto the stone boat, the great reflex expulsion of breath seeming to lend him strength for handling the next stone.
