The Dance

The main characters are introduced and immedatly thrust into an unusual circumstance.

Chapter 2        The Dance

 

Mr. McCruther stood and looked from the window of his house.  This land, all of it, belonged to him.  He sighed as he looked upon his only child, Mercy a beautiful girl of 18 wandering back from the hills she loved.  Thinking back on the years, he recollected how he had come from Indiana, tired of growing up in the dirt, living off of it from sunup to sundown. 

 

His Great-Grandfather came from Scotland as the Revolutionary War was starting; first being an indentured servant, then fighting for his new country.  McCruther’s Grandfather followed the wilderness trail blazed by Daniel Boone and settled in Indiana, keeping his family safe from Indians.  Now McCruther continued the family tradition and moved to Texas soon after the Texas revolution.  He had started as a cowhand on a good ranch and with the money he earned and saved; he started small and bought a 4,000-acre ranch and a few cattle.  Ten years later he had a good-sized ranch and married his sweetheart from Indiana. 

 

Only a Scotsman could have done as much in as short a time.  Although America had long since erased a Scottish burr from the family, the ingenuity and knowledge of a dollar helped mold the empire that the Circle Start Ranch was known as.  The years had touched his red hair leaving in it silver threads.  He walked with a cane, a result of an attempt to break a stallion to ride.  His eyes showed the many years he had lived; however his face was that of a much younger man. 

 

His gaze strayed to the small cemetery under a lone cottonwood tree.  His and Maryann’s first four children lay there in undisturbed slumber. How the deaths of these children aged his Maryann, how fragile she now seemed.  Her slight figure and snow-white head would be seen bowing over the small headstones, now smoothed with age and weather.  How she doted on her living child Mercy.   Keeping her from both sides of life, she protected her from everything.  A sighed escaped him and he turned from the window.  How he wished he could give Mercy more than just the ranch when he passed on.

 

***

 

Maryann was a small fragile being, as the deaths of her children had taken a toll on her.  Her hair had become white before she turned 30, and she barely associated with anyone outside her family.  Instead she kept to a rigid pattern everyday.  She would rise at 6:00 in the morning and help the cook prepare a breakfast for her family, then return to bed.  Later in the day she would rise again to help with lunch, and make her daily trip to the graveyard.  Not only were her children buried here, but a part of her life as well.

 

She ran her fingers across the names etched on the stones that marked each small grave.  Peter McCruther born August 15, 18--, died December 8^, 18--. 

 

She sighed as she thought of the little boy that had been taken away from her too soon.  He had been full of life and was taking after his father in looks.  Stephen had been so proud of his son, and Maryann had been proud to bear his first born son.  But the fever had taken their five year-old son away, and left a hole in his wake.

 

Her next two children had died before their first birthdays.  John Lee was born on April 7, 18-- and died in May, after less than a month on this earth.  Annabelle, was born on January 9, 18-- and died in the spring.  Maryann’s next baby boy was stillborn on December 27, 18--. 

 

Maryann almost died during that childbirth also, and now she wished she had.  Although she had been blessed with another baby, she was tired of living, and tired of hurting her family with her own pain.   She did not they felt hurt by the lack of attention she gave to their lives, but she couldn’t be constantly reminded.  She didn’t want to hurt her family anymore.  Worry filled their eyes, she could tell that they cared about her and she wanted to release the guilt they had.  “If only I could just die,” she thought.

 

***

 

Mercy was sitting on the porch steps very trim and beautiful in the sky blue cotton dress that brought out her bright blue eyes and accented her long and flowing hair.  Hair the color of sunbeams as her father often said.  She often sat here this time of day when the sun just began to touch the horizon and cast a gold tone over all the land.  She sighed and leaned up against the railing soaking in the sunlight. 

 

As the sun sank lower from the sky, Mercy glanced at the house careful to avert her eyes from the sun and watched, as the house windows seemed to catch fire.  Again she looked across the land.  It truly was a sight to behold.  Every time she it was as if she had seen it for the first time.  “Oh,” she sighed and closed her eyes. 

 

“Well if it isn’t Lady of the Circle Star,” a voice called to her.  She opened her eyes and glared at the cowboy who had dared to try to speak to her. “You’re more predictable than…” 

 

“Dick,” she interpreted, “You are always sticking your nose into other people’s affairs.”  The cowboy was Dick McLane son of the foreman of the Circle Star ranch, Bob McLane.  Bob McLane had come west with Mr. McCruther and together they built the Circle Star ranch.  Dick was a handsome boy in appearance.  His mother had died in childbirth and his father continued to spoil him.  Never did Dick take the consequences for his actions; his father always excused the boy because he didn’t have a female influence in his life.  The same age as Mercy, Dick was heavily built though quite tall for his build, just the type to run a ranch.  His flashing dark eyes meant a lot of trouble, and his blonde hair was often unkempt. 

 

“I came to ask you to the dance tonight,” He continued. 

 

“Dick, I told you long ago, that everything has changed since we grew up together as kids,” Mercy stormed.  Although her hair was blonde, and a fiery temper is associated with redheads, Mercy could hold her own in an argument.  She never lost her temper around animals, but with people she was often bothered by little things they did that disturbed her.  And most of all, Dick disturbed her.  Chalk it up to women’s intuition, but behind that most handsome face, Mercy felt there was a deep feeling of anger.

 

“You mean you’ve changed,” he provoked her. Dick knew her since they were kids.  They had grown up together, and at first been good friends.  But then he changed, and Mercy could feel it.  But still he could provoke her anger; he knew how to make her mad.

 

“No, it means that you have changed,” she retorted as she rose to her feet, “All you think about is this ranch.  Well if I have anything to do with it you’ll never get it.” She turned on her heel and stormed into the house. 

 

“I still like it when she gets mad.” Dick laughed.

 

***

 

“I won’t let her. She’s too young, Stephen,” Maryann McCruther argued to her husband in the shelter of their room later that evening. 

 

“She is growing up a sheltered life. How will she be able to take over the ranch?” Stephen McCruther argued back, “I just decided that I am going to take her to the dance tonight.  She needs to get away from the ranch.  Right now it is all she knows.”

 

***

 

Mr. McCruther pulled the horse to a stop in front of the town square. A man came to hold the horse while Mr. McCruther helped Mercy down from the buggy.  “I want you to have a good time.”  He encouraged her. 

 

“You know I always do,” she cheerfully replied.  As they entered the crowed square, everyone turned to look at Mercy on her father’s arm.  Stunning in her pink silk gown, she immediately caught the gaze of every cowboy in the town square.  She wore her hair down like she always did.  Many of the cowboys abandoned their female partners to clamor for a dance. 

 

“Easy boys,” her father reassured them, “She’ll dance with all of you.”  A cheer arouse from the crowd.  Mercy allowed herself to be taken by the cowboy nearest her for the first dance.  She was twirled and swirled dance after dance until Dick arrived and claimed his dance.  Halting midway through the dance, he began to lead her away from the town square.  Mercy felt her heart sink as he led her behind a store. 

 

Reaching for her, Dick tried to pull her closer.  Mercy pushed at him trying to free herself, but Dick held her pressing closer trying to kiss her.  Pulling one of her hands free of his grip, she slapped him with her hand. The blow was so hard it stunned Dick and he pushed her to the ground.  Dick looked confused for a moment, but only a moment.  Composing himself, he looked at her again. 

 

Mercy warned him, “I can still outrun you Dick, just like when we were kids.”  Dick did not heed these words and lunged at her as she scrambled to flee.  Catching her arm, he held it tight though she strained to get away.  He pressed her against the wall of the store.  Suddenly Dick’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground releasing Mercy’s arm.  Surprised, she looked up and saw a cowboy with his gun drawn. 

 

He smiled at her and replaced the gun in his holster. He did not mention the action but instead asked if he could have the next dance as he extended his arm.  Still shaking Mercy took the arm extended to her and allowed herself to be led back to the dance.  Inside the town square the cowboy politely introduced himself as Mark Reid.  Mark was here for the rodeo.  After Mercy had politely introduced herself they both fell silent. 

 

Because of the struggle, Mercy felt strangely weak and leaned heavily on Mark for the dance, yet she noticed he did not hold her as tightly as some of the other cowboys had.  She also noticed the ease of dancing with Mark and how light she felt in his arms.  Never before had she felt this way and deep inside her, she never wanted the dance to end. 

 

However, the music finished and as the couples clapped their admiration for the small band, Mercy asked Mark if he would find her father.

 

“I quite worn out,” she explained.  Accomplishing the task, Mark came back and escorted Mercy to the edge of the party.  “I suppose you think me a weak woman,” Mercy began as they waited for her father to bring the buggy around.  Before Mark could respond, Mercy continued, “I could have screamed, and I didn’t. I could have run, but I hesitated.” She looked in his eyes. “I’ve known Dick all my life.  His father and my father came out west together. It has always been assumed that I would marry Dick. But I won’t now and I never will. He’s not the man for me.  I saw that tonight. And I wanted to thank you.”  She turned away. 

 

Mark wanted to ask why she confided in him, but he was not one to pry.  He saw the worry in her eyes and thought of the trouble in his own life.  At that time the buggy came into view. Mr. McCruther stopped the buggy with a whoa to his horse. Mark helped Mercy into the buggy as

 

Mr. McCruther asked him a question, “Are you going to ride tomorrow, son?” 

 

“Yes, Sir.  I’m here to ride the bronc’s.” Mark softly replied his gaze upon Mercy. 

 

“Will you be in town long? I try and sign up most of the trail hands to work on my cattle drive later in the month. We sure could use you,” Mr. McCruther continued.

 

“Maybe, I’ll see about it.” 

 

“I wish you the best of success in tomorrows contest Mr. Reid,” Mercy spoke.  With that Mr. McCruther spoke to his horse and the buggy rambled off towards the ranch.  Mark stood there and watched it disappear in the night. 

Author's Note

Please offer critiques

This is a chapter in the novel I submitted with the first annual Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award