Read Online They Don't Dance Much: A Novel by James Ross - Free Book Online
Authors: James Ross
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talked to the carpenters.
I figured he was lying to me, but I wasn’t sure. Bert Ford always had plenty of cash on him. One time one of his croppers killed another nigger and they set his bond at a thousand dollars. Bert went to Corinth and pulled out the money, for it was during the busy season and he needed the nigger. Bert must have thought the nigger could beat the case anyway, and he did.
I kept studying about what Smut had said the night before, when he was getting into bed: ‘What I’d like to know is a way to separate them from it.’ That was what I wanted to know too. I needed money worse than Smut did. He was in pretty good shape. I needed money to pay off LeRoy Smathers. After I got that paid I could use considerable for other things. I didn’t like to work for another man. I wanted some place of my own, even if it wasn’t anything but a hot-dog stand. Still I knew I couldn’t get enough money to open up anything, working for twenty-five dollars a month. And I couldn’t see any way of making more than that.
Catfish hung around till that afternoon. He charged a can of salmon and a box of crackers to his account and made his dinner off that. About two o’clock he loaded up his old car with five hundred pounds of sugar and left. I reckon he came up there aiming to get Smut or me to haul a load of sugar down to his place on the pick-up, because we could haul more on that. But when Smut hadn’t shown up after noon Catfish decided to go on with part of a load. He had some beer that needed to have sugar put in it.
It was late when Smut got back. He drove the truck back of the filling station and left it there. He came around to the front and sat down in the door, beside me.
‘Well, I got practically everything lined up today,’ he said. ‘I’m just about ready for the big opening now.’
‘When you aim to be ready?’ I said.
‘In a couple of weeks, at the outside. I got the men coming in here tomorrow to build them tourist cabins. And the new part is going to be ready for us to move in day after tomorrow.’
‘How long will it take them to remodel this filling station into a dance hall?’ I asked him.
‘Not long. They ought to finish it in less than a week. I got a load of fixtures coming in here tomorrow. And the men to put them in.’
He had it sized up just about right. Two weeks from that day we could have had the big opening night. But that would have made it on a Monday and that wasn’t a good time. People wouldn’t have had time to get straightened out from the past week-end. So Smut put it off till Saturday of that week. We spent the rest of the week putting on the finishing touches.
It was a different-looking place after the carpenters got through and the painters finished painting it. The new building was closer to the paved highway than the filling station had been. Smut hired Sam Durkin to take his barn-moving machinery and pull the old filling station over beside the new part. Then the filling station was worked over and made into a dance hall.
In the front of the roadhouse you would have thought you were in one of these high-toned grills in a big town. Everything was all fixed up, with the floor polished, and the booths on one side. The booths were made out of dark brown wood and there was a little light right over each booth. On the other side from them there was a counter with stools in front of it. In front of the counter we had two big, shiny urns for coffee, and up in the front, next to the door, there was the cash register. Over the booths and up next to the ceiling there were two big pictures painted on the wall. Smut hired some pointed-mustached Italian or Greek to come out there and paint them. This bird wore a tan-colored Mother Hubbard while he painted and he sung songs in some foreign language. There wasn’t much tune to the songs, or it may be that he just couldn’t carry a tune. He was a mighty fast painter and had the pictures finished before one o’clock
I figured he was lying to me, but I wasn’t sure. Bert Ford always had plenty of cash on him. One time one of his croppers killed another nigger and they set his bond at a thousand dollars. Bert went to Corinth and pulled out the money, for it was during the busy season and he needed the nigger. Bert must have thought the nigger could beat the case anyway, and he did.
I kept studying about what Smut had said the night before, when he was getting into bed: ‘What I’d like to know is a way to separate them from it.’ That was what I wanted to know too. I needed money worse than Smut did. He was in pretty good shape. I needed money to pay off LeRoy Smathers. After I got that paid I could use considerable for other things. I didn’t like to work for another man. I wanted some place of my own, even if it wasn’t anything but a hot-dog stand. Still I knew I couldn’t get enough money to open up anything, working for twenty-five dollars a month. And I couldn’t see any way of making more than that.
Catfish hung around till that afternoon. He charged a can of salmon and a box of crackers to his account and made his dinner off that. About two o’clock he loaded up his old car with five hundred pounds of sugar and left. I reckon he came up there aiming to get Smut or me to haul a load of sugar down to his place on the pick-up, because we could haul more on that. But when Smut hadn’t shown up after noon Catfish decided to go on with part of a load. He had some beer that needed to have sugar put in it.
It was late when Smut got back. He drove the truck back of the filling station and left it there. He came around to the front and sat down in the door, beside me.
‘Well, I got practically everything lined up today,’ he said. ‘I’m just about ready for the big opening now.’
‘When you aim to be ready?’ I said.
‘In a couple of weeks, at the outside. I got the men coming in here tomorrow to build them tourist cabins. And the new part is going to be ready for us to move in day after tomorrow.’
‘How long will it take them to remodel this filling station into a dance hall?’ I asked him.
‘Not long. They ought to finish it in less than a week. I got a load of fixtures coming in here tomorrow. And the men to put them in.’
He had it sized up just about right. Two weeks from that day we could have had the big opening night. But that would have made it on a Monday and that wasn’t a good time. People wouldn’t have had time to get straightened out from the past week-end. So Smut put it off till Saturday of that week. We spent the rest of the week putting on the finishing touches.
It was a different-looking place after the carpenters got through and the painters finished painting it. The new building was closer to the paved highway than the filling station had been. Smut hired Sam Durkin to take his barn-moving machinery and pull the old filling station over beside the new part. Then the filling station was worked over and made into a dance hall.
In the front of the roadhouse you would have thought you were in one of these high-toned grills in a big town. Everything was all fixed up, with the floor polished, and the booths on one side. The booths were made out of dark brown wood and there was a little light right over each booth. On the other side from them there was a counter with stools in front of it. In front of the counter we had two big, shiny urns for coffee, and up in the front, next to the door, there was the cash register. Over the booths and up next to the ceiling there were two big pictures painted on the wall. Smut hired some pointed-mustached Italian or Greek to come out there and paint them. This bird wore a tan-colored Mother Hubbard while he painted and he sung songs in some foreign language. There wasn’t much tune to the songs, or it may be that he just couldn’t carry a tune. He was a mighty fast painter and had the pictures finished before one o’clock
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