Cinder cared nothing for what anybody thought of her. She was showing Mary she could make July pleasure himself even on his wedding-night. Mary ached to stop her, to tell her what she thought, but shyness kept her silent. The fiddle sang out with all its might and main, the drum beat faster and louder, the racket became so deafening with the dancing and singing that Mary gave up trying to hear the things that were shouted at her. She felt left out and lonely, almost sorry she was a church member. If she were a sinner Cinder would not be July’s partner.
Her knees trembled, her lips twitched, her heart thumped. That same Cinder was a devil. She had always wanted July, and she had not given up hope of him yet. She was ugly and black and skinny, but she knew how to snatch men away from their women as brazenly as foxes snatch hens from their mates in the fig trees. July was so taken up with showing off some of the new steps he had learned away from home, he could not see how Cinder’s eyes shone with wickedness, or how sharp her white teeth showed between her thin black lips. With every heartbeat, Mary’s anger and jealousy grew. July’s promises were not cold on his lips and yet there he was, cavorting about with that wicked, man-stealing Cinder, and holding her tight in his arms before everybody’s eyes.
Mary tried to fix her gaze on his so he would see her and stop, but no, he was bending down a little to hear something Cinder was whispering to him. On he went, his fine new hat cocked jauntily on one side, forgetting everything but the measure of the music and the steps which Cinder followed so closely.
It was too much. Mary could stand it no longer. Following the wall, she pushed through the crowd and went out through the door into the night. Her heart was full of gall, although the people gathered thick around her, joking her, praising her looks, offering to treat her to food or drink, making her many fine wishes. She could hardly smile, or give back civil answers, or laugh over their sly predictions about her.
She had not seen June until she felt a hot hand on her shoulder, and he whispered in her ear, “Come on, Si May-e, dance a set wid me. Le’s show de people how you an’ me can take all de shine off o July an’ Cinder.” July’s guitar was slung over June’s shoulder and he was already taking it off and putting it into the hands of a bystander to be free for dancing with Mary.
She shook her head. “No, June, if I was to dance tonight, de deacons would turn me out o de church next Sunday. Dat would hurt Auntie too awful bad. July’ll come for me toreckly. I’ll wait.”
The fiddle whined out a high sad note and the big drum rolled and growled. Mary hesitated and June plead. “You ain’ to stand out here by yousef an’ let July dance in yonder an’ you a bride.” His arm slipped from her shoulder and went clear around her, “Come on, Si May-e. I’m a sinner an’ July is one, you may as well be one too.”
She could feel her body yielding while the two minds inside her considered what was best to do. One mind said, “No,” and the other mind answered, “You are the best dancer here. Show the people that Cinder has no time with you,” and before she knew it, she heard her lips saying:
“Get de box, June, and play me a tune. I rather dance by myself out here in de yard.”
June’s fingers fell light on the strings at first, as he plucked out a low chord, but soon a clear swinging tune rang out above a strange syncopated rhythm. July could have played no better.
Mary listened, then she placed her hands on her hips and with a laugh stepped out into the firelight. At first she bent and swayed without stepping out of her tracks. Her feet felt heavy as if they were loath to shake off her soul’s salvation, but as the music went faster, they began moving with it until they hardly touched the ground at all. With her eyes half closed and her blood tingling hot, she whirled and twisted, dancing less for joy than for the wish to triumph over Cinder and to show July that she cared nothing for the slight which had stung her heart down to the quick.
Some of the merrymakers outside had been stepping around and jumping to the steady beat of the drum, cutting pigeon wings or buzzard lopes, or chasing one another out into the black darkness which cut them off completely. Now, they all stood in a circle around Mary.
The fire leaped higher, quick shadows ran over the ground, Mary’s breath came faster and faster. The earth seemed to rock, the trees to be unsteady, but never had she danced so well. June’s box had gone crazy, its soft wailing had changed into chords that twanged out hot and wild.
The music stopped suddenly, and a dead silence fell. The people looked blurred. Across the fire from her Mary saw July standing by himself with his arms folded and his eyes watching her with a look in them that she had never seen before. Instead of smiling at him, she leaned over and wiped her wet face with her petticoat, then took the cup of sweetened water June offered her and sipped it slowly, one small taste at a time.
Without looking up she knew that all the people were staring at her, watching every move she made. Some of them were grinning and rolling their eyes, others were pursing up their lips. All of them
