mules, automobiles, and people. Maud parted ways with Nan, walked in and out of stores on Lee Street, spoke with people she hadnât seen in a while, and let a boy she knew from school buy her a Coca-Cola. After finishing the soft drink, she extracted herself with the promise of a dance and with the excuse of needing to give Lovely a message from her father.
Maud didnât really think Lovely and Early had yet made it into town; Lovely hadnât started washing up when sheâd left, and Early would want to make a late appearance so he could make the women wait. As for Mustard, Maud didnât think heâd take the occasion to slip down to the Mountsâ to extend the feud because, for the moment, he had the upper hand. She figured heâd spend the early part of his evening near his bootleggerâs and come to the dance shouting drunk but before he was falling down.
She did keep her eye out for the Mount brothers so she wouldnât be taken by surprise again. But with the town filling up, it was hard to scan the crowd well enough to be certain someone wasnât coming up on her from behind or at her from a catty-cornered direction. She stayed mostly on the planks in front of the stores, looked in windows for items that struck her fancy, and talked to girls she knew, and to more boys, too. Sheâd promised several dances and had gossiped about a friendâs upcoming marriage when, from down the street, she heard the fiddlers tuning up. She loitered some more, went into and out of Berdâs Drugstore without buying anything, and wound toward the dance corner looking for the bright blue canvas that was to her mind the prettiest thing ever set against the sky.
Near the corner, she walked the length of the Pierce building, hesitated for a moment, and then peered through its two arches to the fiddlersâ stage. Above it, men were hanging lanterns and behind them were two rolls of blue sitting atop the hull of a wagon. The rolls sucked Maudâs breath into her chest. Her heart began to flutter like a bird that wants out of a cage. She spun around and put her hand on one of the stone columns that supported the second story of the building. Her other hand she drew to her breast. She needed a plan to get over to the wagon. She couldnât think of one; her wits had suddenly scattered. So instead of walking toward the bright blue, she crossed the intersection, brought a buckboard to a halt without noticing it, and walked entirely in the opposite direction. She passed clumps of blanket Indians sitting on the curb wearing black hats with feathers, passed their wives and children parked in groups not far away, passed a small house, and walked even farther up the road until it bordered a long, deep lawn in front of the Nash Taylor mansion.
Mr. Taylor had been dead since Maud was a little girl. But his grandson (who was also Mr. Singerâs son) lived in his grandfatherâs house and ran the general store that still bore the Taylor name. The home was the grandest Maud had ever seen, even bigger and better than her Mr. Singerâs, and although sheâd never been inside, sheâd toyed in her imagination with the home being her own from the first time sheâd laid her eyes on its two-story center section and double front porches. She didnât actually hope to live in that house, but she hoped to live in one just like it. And whenever she glimpsed the home, she used it as a guide, much like a sailor uses the brightest stars in the sky. She sat down on one of the sandstone slabs in the front lawn and positioned herself at an angle so that she could see the house without appearing to watch it, see the road, and also, in the far distance, see a corner of one of the blue rolls over Bookerâs wagon. The house and the blue canvas anchored Maud while she tried to plan.
She was still cogitating when she heard the first tune, âWhen the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbinâ
Maud didnât really think Lovely and Early had yet made it into town; Lovely hadnât started washing up when sheâd left, and Early would want to make a late appearance so he could make the women wait. As for Mustard, Maud didnât think heâd take the occasion to slip down to the Mountsâ to extend the feud because, for the moment, he had the upper hand. She figured heâd spend the early part of his evening near his bootleggerâs and come to the dance shouting drunk but before he was falling down.
She did keep her eye out for the Mount brothers so she wouldnât be taken by surprise again. But with the town filling up, it was hard to scan the crowd well enough to be certain someone wasnât coming up on her from behind or at her from a catty-cornered direction. She stayed mostly on the planks in front of the stores, looked in windows for items that struck her fancy, and talked to girls she knew, and to more boys, too. Sheâd promised several dances and had gossiped about a friendâs upcoming marriage when, from down the street, she heard the fiddlers tuning up. She loitered some more, went into and out of Berdâs Drugstore without buying anything, and wound toward the dance corner looking for the bright blue canvas that was to her mind the prettiest thing ever set against the sky.
Near the corner, she walked the length of the Pierce building, hesitated for a moment, and then peered through its two arches to the fiddlersâ stage. Above it, men were hanging lanterns and behind them were two rolls of blue sitting atop the hull of a wagon. The rolls sucked Maudâs breath into her chest. Her heart began to flutter like a bird that wants out of a cage. She spun around and put her hand on one of the stone columns that supported the second story of the building. Her other hand she drew to her breast. She needed a plan to get over to the wagon. She couldnât think of one; her wits had suddenly scattered. So instead of walking toward the bright blue, she crossed the intersection, brought a buckboard to a halt without noticing it, and walked entirely in the opposite direction. She passed clumps of blanket Indians sitting on the curb wearing black hats with feathers, passed their wives and children parked in groups not far away, passed a small house, and walked even farther up the road until it bordered a long, deep lawn in front of the Nash Taylor mansion.
Mr. Taylor had been dead since Maud was a little girl. But his grandson (who was also Mr. Singerâs son) lived in his grandfatherâs house and ran the general store that still bore the Taylor name. The home was the grandest Maud had ever seen, even bigger and better than her Mr. Singerâs, and although sheâd never been inside, sheâd toyed in her imagination with the home being her own from the first time sheâd laid her eyes on its two-story center section and double front porches. She didnât actually hope to live in that house, but she hoped to live in one just like it. And whenever she glimpsed the home, she used it as a guide, much like a sailor uses the brightest stars in the sky. She sat down on one of the sandstone slabs in the front lawn and positioned herself at an angle so that she could see the house without appearing to watch it, see the road, and also, in the far distance, see a corner of one of the blue rolls over Bookerâs wagon. The house and the blue canvas anchored Maud while she tried to plan.
She was still cogitating when she heard the first tune, âWhen the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbinâ
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