the edge of the dance floor. There were some who returned short, stern-faced replies when Belle and Sam greeted them, but there were about as many others who seemed glad enough to see the Starrs of Younger’s Bend.
Longarm tried his best to do the impossible: make himself inconspicuous and still act as though he felt at home. He was introduced to a number of Starrs and Wests and Suratts and others whose names he didn’t catch, young and old, male and female, and all of them seemed to accept his presence there as normal.
It was difficult for Longarm to realize that all, or almost all, of those at the gathering were from the same family. As far as he could see, there was no common trait among the three clans. He met a variety of Starrs and Wests and Suratts who might have been pure Anglo-Saxon, full-blood Cherokee, or part Spanish or part black. The more of the family he saw, the more confused he got.
He stubbed his toe with Belle just after they’d completed the circuit of the porch, where the elder members of the group had gathered. She said, “All right, we’ve done what you wanted to, Sam. Now let’s go home.”
“Home? Damn it, Belle, this place right here’s home for the time being. We just got here. We can’t up and leave like we think we’re too good to mix with ‘em.”
“You mix, then.” She turned to Longarm. “Come on, Windy. Dance with me. I might not look it, but I’m one hell of a fine dancer. Used to dance professionally, you know, over in Dallas and out in California.”
“I’d be real proud to lead you out on the floor there, Belle,” he replied. “But all I’d do is make you look like a fool. I got two left feet when it comes to dancing.”
“Oh, hell, you’re just bashful!”
“No. I’m telling you the truth. Seems like the music goes to my head and gets my feet all mixed up. I end up falling on my face and making my partner mad. After that happened a time or two, I swore I never was going to try to dance anymore.”
“Oh, you’re just no good for a woman at all, Windy!” Belle snapped. “Well, if Sam’s so dead set on staying, I intend to have as much fun as I can.” She looked around, and saw a young man close by. “Jim! Jim July!
Come on and dance with your old Aunt Belle!”
For a moment the youth seemed on the verge of refusing, but then he smiled, showing big, yellowed teeth, and took Belle by the arm, and then they were stamping and whirling with the others on the dance floor.
Sam said to Longarm, “Well, Belle’s taken care of, so I’m going to do some dancing myself. Go help yourself to vittles, Windy. There’s whiskey under the tables. Just lift up any of the tablecloths and pick up a jug.”
Left to himself, Longarm sampled the food. There were ham and chicken and spareribs and beef, cornbread and biscuits and a variety of vegetables, few of which he recognized, not being much of a vegetable fancier. There were fried squirrel and rabbit and possum, beans of several kinds, pickled crabapples, and tiny orange persimmons wrinkled into sweetness. There were some pots of stew that smelled appetizing, but which Longarm left alone because he wasn’t sure what might have gone into them.
While he ate, he studied the shifting crowd. Fresh faces were constantly appearing, but Longarm couldn’t tell whether they belonged to new arrivals or people he hadn’t noticed before. He saw that Sam had gone onto the dance floor, but wasn’t dancing with Belle. She was still twirling around with the young Cherokee she’d called Jim, and Sam had taken a short, chubby, middle-aged woman for his partner. A young couple, their faces flushed and perspiring, pushed past him, heading for the tables. Longarm stepped aside and bumped into someone behind him.
“Beg pardon,” he said, swiveling around.
He glanced at the woman he’d jostled, and then opened his eyes wide for a better look. She was strikingly attractive in a regal sort of way, even with her face twisted into a grimace of dismay as she juggled the bowl of stew she was carrying. Longarm grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her in time to keep the stew from slopping over the side of the bowl.
“Thank you,” she said, flashing him a smile.
“Maybe I better walk in front of you to keep somebody else from bumping into you like I did,” he suggested.
“That’s not necessary. I’m just taking this to my aunt, over there on the porch.”
“Mrs. Lucy Suratt?” Longarm fished up the name of the only aunt he’d heard mentioned.
“No. My Aunt Sarah. Aunt Lucy’s my aunt once removed, if I remember the family tree correctly.”
She started toward the porch, and Longarm walked ahead of her, clearing a path. They rounded the corner of the dance floor just as Belle came rushing up. “Windy!” Belle panted. “Have you seen Sam?”
“Not since a few minutes ago. He was out dancing, then.”
“He’s not on the dance floor. I’ve looked.”
“You trying to find him and talk him into going home now?”
“I’m trying to find him to get him away before there’s big trouble. Frank West just got here.”
“You don’t figure Sam would start anything, do you? Not after-“
“Sam might not. Frank might. They’ve both said they’re going to shoot the other on sight. Go around that way, Windy. See if you can find Sam.”
Longarm started in the direction in which Belle had pointed. He pushed through the crowd, skirting the dance floor, but when he got to the side of the floor nearest the house, he saw that Belle had found her husband first. He walked up to them in time to hear Sam say, “I don’t give a damn what you want me to do! If Frank’s here and wants to settle things, I’m ready!”
“Sam, listen to me!” Belle was almost shouting. “I know you’ve got a good gun hand, but so has Frank!”
