"Why are you grinning?" Madison asked as they walked back inside.
"Because I'm happy," Fern replied.
Madison gave her hand a squeeze. "You'd better look a little less happy, or everybody's going to be certain we've been doing something highly improper on Mrs. McCoy's porch."
Fern suddenly had a picture in her mind of Mrs. McCoy's face if anything so untoward were to happen, and she felt a bubble of laughter growing in her chest. She fought to contain it but lost. It erupted in a silvery cascade which drew the attention of nearly everyone in the room.
"Whatever have you been doing out there?" Betty Lewis asked, her gaze on Madison rather than Fern.
"Nothing," Fern said.
"It doesn't sound like nothing."
"Oh that," Fern said, trying to dismiss her laughter. "Madison was just telling me a funny story."
"You've got to tell us," Betty said.
"I can't," Fern said, giving Madison a mischievous look. "It wasn't very proper."
"I can't believe Mr. Randolph would tell warm stories, and certainly not to a . . . lady."
"Then you don't know him very well," Fern said. "There's not much he wouldn't do."
Fern could hardly believe she had had the courage to talk back to Betty Lewis. Just the thought of drawing so much attention to herself made her feel weak. Instinctively she reached for Madison's arm.
"Would you like to lead us in the first dance?" Mrs. McCoy asked Madison.
"You'll have to find him another partner," Fern said. "I don't know how to dance."
There was only one woman in the room Fern would have wanted to dance with Madison, but it was out of the question for Rose to dance in her condition. That left the young women of Abilene or Samantha, not an easy choice for Fern until she remembered the genuine warmth of that young woman's greeting.
"Why don't you ask Samantha?" she said. "You can show us the dances you do in Boston."
Madison tried to demur, but Samantha accepted without hesitation. Slipping into the crowd next to Freddy, Fern said, "If we can find a room where no one can see us, would you teach me to dance?"
"You don't know how?" Freddy asked.
"No. I very stupidly wouldn't let Madison teach me when he offered."
"Why don't you try the side porch," Rose suggested. "It might be better than a secluded room."
Fern started to say no one would suspect a man of doing anything improper with her, but stopped. As Madison said, she was always underestimating herself. If a man like Madison with so many women to choose from could love her, she must be pretty. Maybe even pretty enough to tempt a worldly man like Freddy.
She hoped he wouldn't, but it was nice to believe the thought might cross his mind.
Fern found it wasn't too hard to learn to dance. That is, it wasn't when she could keep her mind on her steps and not on what Madison and Samantha might be doing inside.
"You have to know the steps so well you can do them without thinking," Freddy was saying. "That allows you to carry on a conversation with your partner."
"You must practice dancing all the time," Fern said, marveling than anybody could talk and dance. It was like asking her to carry on a conversation while she roped and tied a calf. She could shout commands, but you couldn't call that a conversation.
"We start learning early," Freddy explained. "It's a very important social skill."
"We don't have more than one or two dances a year unless you count the saloons, and nice people don't," Fern added.
"We have dances every week."
"What for? You must get tired of dancing with the same people."
"We have very strict rules about dancing with anyone more than two times in one evening," Freddy said.
"If you like them, why not?"
"Because it could be taken as a sign of serious interest. A young man must speak to the young lady's father before he can show such attention to her."
"You mean you'd have to talk to my father before you could dance with me three times?"
"Yes."
"But he's dead."
"Then I'd speak to your guardian."
Fern decided it must be awfully difficult living in Boston if you had to ask permission to do something as simple as dance. She didn't know how Madison got along. He never asked anyone's permission to do anything. He must cause quite a stir among the guardians whenever he showed up.
"I think you've got the hang of it now," Freddy said.
"As long as they don't change the music or go faster," Fern said, as they returned to the party.
She almost wished she'd stayed outside. Madison and Samantha were dancing again, this time in the center of the room. Everybody had stopped to watch them. They were so graceful together. Fern knew she'd never be able to dance like that, not if she practiced on the porch for the rest of her life.
Even worse, they seemed to be having a wonderful time together. They were talking, laughing, apparently not missing her or Freddy at all.
She felt like sneaking away, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. Madison said he loved her. She had to learn to believe it was true, even when he held another woman in his arms.
But it was hard.
* * * * *
Fern felt some of the tension leave her muscles. She had almost completed an entire dance. And while she hadn't done so without mistakes, none of them had been serious.
"Can you talk now?" Madison asked.
"Only in short sentences," Fern replied, favoring him with a worried smile.
"I'd rather you watched me."
Fern looked up at him and immediately took a wrong step. "I'd better watch my feet. I can look at you tomorrow."
But she looked up anyway. Now she understood why she sometimes found Rose sitting quietly just looking at George. If she looked at Madison every day for the rest of her life, she would never get enough of him. And tonight, of all nights, she finally saw something beyond the handsome face and arrogant smile and supreme confidence.
She saw the man who cared enough to never give up even when she did her best to drive him away. She saw the man who had looked past her defenses to the woman inside and decided it was time for her to come out, who saw the person she could become and wouldn't let her be anything less.
Now, through his insistence that she attend this party, she had created a new identity for herself. She felt reborn. No, she felt born for the first time. She no longer had to hide behind men's clothes or confine herself to men's work. She had choices.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes and no," she replied. "I'm a nervous wreck for fear I'll do something wrong. But I've never done anything half this exciting before. I can't believe I'm actually here, wearing this dress, and dancing with you. I'll probably wake up in the morning and not believe a bit of it."
Madison glanced at the other people in the room. "I don't think they'll let you forget."
Gaining enough confidence to look around her, she was surprised to see looks of envy and admiration all around her.
She knew the female envy stemmed from her dancing with Madison. It didn't take much to see he was the most handsome man present. Some might vote for George, but Fern preferred Madison. The roguish smile, the devil-may-care attitude, the supreme confidence, the very things which used to annoy her, now seemed to make him most dear.
But she couldn't explain the admiration in the men's eyes. Surely they couldn't be admiring her! These were the very same men who only yesterday had passed her on the street without even noticing her. Yet Joe Tebbs stood looking at her with his tongue hanging out, just like he used to look a Nola Rae Simpson down at the Pearl Saloon.
"Close your mouth, Joe," she hissed. "You'll catch a gnat."
Joe flushed up to his hairline, grinned, and shifted his weight on feet crammed uncomfortably in new boots, but he didn't stop staring.
"Let the boy look," Madison said. "He probably can't get over the fact that he's been looking at you for years and never had any idea you were such a
beauty."
"You've got to stop saying that before I start believing you," Fern said.
"Look around. Everybody's staring at you."
"They're staring at you."
"They hardly notice me. It's your transformation that has left them speechless."
"I think I deserve a chance to dance with Miss Sproull," Freddy said, tapping his friend on the shoulder. "After all, I taught her how."
Madison acquiesced gracefully.
"See where their eyes go," he said. "They won't be following me."
"What's he talking about?" Freddy asked.
"Oh, he's trying to make me believe everybody's staring at me instead of him."
"He's right," Freddy said. "Nobody's interested in Madison, at least not tonight. Everybody's talking about you. I know because I've been trying to answer their questions."
"But why?"
"You pulled a surprise on them. They can't get over how beautiful you are. Haven't you ever worn a dress before?"
"No."
"I guess that explains it. I hope you won't take offense, but when Madison introduced you that first day, I had no idea you could look this pretty."
"You mean I really am pretty?"
"Of course you are, but I'm sure you knew that all along. I've heard Madison tell you."
"I guess I was afraid to believe him," she said, half to herself.
"Well you can believe me. You're one lovely woman. And unless I'm mistaken, that fella staring at you is trying to find the courage to cut in on me."
Joe didn't find it until moments later when the dance came to an end. Then he walked up to Fern, his Adam's apple bobbing from nervousness.
"Could you see your way clear to giving me the next dance?"
Fern glanced around for Madison and saw him talking to Sam Belton. At least she thought that's who it was. She'd only seem him the night he got off the train with Madison. She didn't want to interrupt Madison, but she wouldn't have refused Joe anyway. After trying so hard to work up his nerve, it would have been terribly unkind. She remembered how it felt. She would dance with anybody who wanted as long as her feet held out, but she wasn't sure how long that would be. She was used to doing her work from a horse's back. She was also used to wearing boots. These slippers didn't give her feet any support. It was almost like walking barefooted.
* * * * *
Madison wanted to dance with Fern. Actually he wanted to take her back to the porch and kiss her again. She hadn't pushed him away tonight. He had always been certain he would find some way to convince her to marry him, but now he could almost believe they'd soon be making plans for their wedding. He'd even rather be talking to her about Boston then listening to Sam Belton prose on about the evils of Texans and Texas cattle.
"Have you ever seen a cow die of your Texas fever?" Sam Belton demanded of Madison.
"I've hardly been in town a month yet," Madison replied. "It's not likely I'd spend my time searching out dying cows."
"They start to arch their back and droop their heads and ears," Belton said, ignoring Madison's caveat. His eyes glowed with a reformer's zeal has he warmed to his subject. "Their eyes become glassy and staring. They begin to stagger from weakness in their hind legs. Their temperature rises and their appetite fades. The pulse becomes quick and weak and the animal pants for air. The breath acquires a fetid odor and the urine becomes dark or bloody. Some slump into coma-like lethargy and refuse to move. Others become delirious and toss their heads about so violently they crack their horns."
"I don't own any cows, so it's no good trying to intimidate me. Why don't you talk to my brother, George."
"I've tried, but he keeps bringing his herds to Abilene."
"Then I assume your citizens keep welcoming him back each year."
"Well he won't be bringing cattle here much longer. I'm organizing the citizens," Sam declared, his expression becoming impassioned. "We're petitioning the governor to enforce the quarantine line. We want to get rid of Texas cattle and all the transients who cater to your people's depraved appetites. We're going to make this town safe for farmers to raise their cattle and their families."
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Madison said.
"You agree?" Belton said, surprise derailing his burgeoning ardor.
"Certainly. There'll always be some town that wants the longhorn business. Besides, the land is getting too settled around Abilene. George has already decided to ship out of Ellsworth next season. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a partner to claim."
The light in Belton's eyes flickered and dimmed as he followed Madison's gaze to where Fern was dancing with another cowboy. "Is that really Baker Sproull's daughter?" he asked, the light only a dull glow now.
"That's Fern Sproull," Madison confirmed.
"She's sure been a surprise. Imagine all that hidden under a god-awful sheepskin vest."
"It wasn't hidden," Madison said. "People just don't see what they don't want to see."
"Well the Texans had better see their days in Abilene are numbered."
"Find someone else to lecture," Madison said turning away. "You've told me enough already."
More than enough Madison thought to himself.
* * * * *
But while Madison was winding up his conversation with Sam Belton, another cowboy claimed Fern. By the time the dance was over, Madison had disappeared.
Fern tried hard not to show her disappointment. She had danced with everyone who asked her, but she was tired of being the belle of the ball. She wanted to be ignored. She wanted to be with Madison. She wanted to rest her aching feet. She was pleased with her success, but she had done all this for Madison, not for herself. If Madison wasn't going to be here to enjoy her success, she was going to sit down and give her feet a rest.
Two more men asked her to dance, but she refused both. "I'm worn out," she confessed. "This is harder work than calf roping."
"I'll get you something to drink," one offered.
"I'll get you something to eat," the other said, and both disappeared leaving Fern to look for Madison. She saw Rose and George talking to Mrs. McCoy. She didn't see Samantha just then, but Freddy was dancing with Betty Lewis's younger sister, a fact which didn't seem to please Betty Lewis nearly as much as it pleased her sister.
Then she spied Sam Belton. Maybe he knew where Madison had gone. She worked her way over to him. "Excuse me," she said, "but did you happen to see where Madison Randolph went when he left you?"
Fern decided there were some definite drawbacks to being beautiful, and one of them was being stared at by strangers. She didn't like it. It made her uncomfortable. She felt like she was public property, and she didn't like that either.
"I think he went through there?" Belton said, pointing to a hallway leading to the rest of the house.
The man's gaze never left Fern's face. It gave her the creeps. There was something about his voice that sounded familiar, but she'd never talked to him before. Pike said he lived in Topeka. He was only staying in Abilene until he could find someone to take over Troy's job.
"Thank you," Fern said, glad to escape. She supposed it wasn't fair to make a snap judgement, but she didn't like him, and that was all there was to it. She would have to find some way to refuse him if he asked her to dance. She started to wait for Madison to return from wherever he had gone, but Belton's stare unnerved her. She considered joining Rose and George, but she decided against it. Mrs. McCoy intimidated her.
Fern had never been in a house as big as the McCoy home. Doug McCoy had built it with his enormous profits from the cattle trade, far more money than Belton would ever make selling farms. Until he understood that half the merchants in Abilene would go out of business if the cattle trade went elsewhere, Belton wouldn't understand that his real opponents were the businessmen of Abilene, not the Texans.
Fern wondered what the McCoys could want with so many rooms. There were three parlors, or rooms that looked like parlors, all flooded with light, available for people to re
lax from the dancing or have a little quiet talk.
Madison and Samantha were in the second room. Fern opened her mouth to speak, but Madison's words slew the words in her throat.
"I've always loved you, Samantha," Madison was saying, "but never more than tonight. You're one in a million."
Then he kissed her. Right there in the light. He didn't even bother to close the door or glance around to see if anyone was looking. He just kissed her, brazenly, like he wasn't doing anything wrong.
"I love you too, Madison," Samantha said. "You know I'd do anything for you."
Fern couldn't listen to any more. She had to get away. Madison had lied to her. He did love Samantha. She had heard him say it with his own lips.
Fern turned back, but she couldn't face the thought of going through the crowd of people in the front of the house. Someone was sure to want to dance with her. Rose would want an explanation for her leaving the party so soon. Somebody would tell Madison and he might come after her.
Turning toward the back of the house, Fern stumbled past the last open door and into the kitchen. There were several women gathered there putting food together for the guests, but Fern didn't stop long enough to see if she recognized anyone. She rushed through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the welcoming darkness of the night.
Nearly blinded by tears, Fern found her way to the street only to be brought up short by the circle of waiting carriages, buggies, and wagons. She started to turn away, but recognized Madison's buggy. With a swift flash of decision, Fern attempted the unfamiliar task of gathering her skirts so she could climb into the buggy.
"Could I help you?"
Gasping in surprise, Fern turned to find herself staring at a stranger.
"You probably can't climb in with those skirts."
"It is something of a problem," Fern answered, thankful for the dark which hid her tear-streaked face. "I would appreciate some help."
"It's a shame you have to leave the party so soon," the young man said as she took Fern's hand and steadied her as she put her foot on the first step. "It seems to be going real good."
"I have a headache," Fern said. "It doesn't go very well with the music and loud talking." She managed to get into the buggy. She settled herself and untied the reins.
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