Kent Haruf - Eventide

Come on, Maggie said. Follow me.

She led Raymond and Guthrie to a dark booth in the far corner that a friend from school had been saving for them. It’s about time, the woman said. I couldn’t have kept it much longer.

We’re here now, Maggie said. Thank you. We’ll take care of it.

They sat down. Raymond peered around in silent amazement and interest. There were other ranchers and farmers he knew, out for a Saturday night of dancing and partying, and a great number of people from town. He turned to look at the band and the people out on the floor dancing in wide circles. Presently a barmaid came up and they ordered drinks, then Guthrie and Maggie got up to dance to a song she said she liked. While they were gone the barmaid brought the tray of drinks and Raymond paid for them, and then the band stopped for a break and stepped down off the riser, and Maggie and Guthrie came back to the booth looking sweaty and red-faced and sat down across from him.

Did you pay for these? Guthrie said.

Yeah. It’s all right.

I still owe you a drink, Maggie said.

I ain’t forgetting.

Good, she said. I’m not either.

Maggie drank deeply from her glass, then she stood up and said she’d be back in a minute. Don’t let him disappear, she said to Guthrie.

He’s not going anywhere, Guthrie said.

The two men drank and talked about cattle, and Guthrie smoked, and Raymond asked him how his boys were doing, and all around them the big room stayed alive with movement and noise.

BEFORE THE BAND STARTED UP AGAIN MAGGIE RETURNED to the booth. With her was a woman Raymond didn’t know. She was short and middle-aged with curly dark hair, and she had on a shiny green dress with a bright floral pattern and short sleeves that revealed her round fleshy arms. Raymond, Maggie said, I want you to meet someone.

Raymond stood up out of the booth.

This is my friend Rose Tyler, Maggie said. And Rose, this is Raymond McPheron. I thought it was time you two got to know each other.

How do you do, Rose said.

Ma’am, Raymond said. They shook hands and he glanced at the booth. Would you care to join us?

Thank you, she said. I would.

She slid in and Raymond sat down beside her on the outside edge of the seat. Maggie sat down beside Guthrie across from them. Raymond put his hands forward on the table. He removed his hands and set them in his lap. Would you care to have a drink? he said.

That would be a very good idea, Rose said.

What would you like?

A whiskey sour.

He turned and peered out into the crowded dance hall. I wonder what you got to do to get that barmaid to come back, he said.

The band was playing a fast song, and Maggie nudged Guthrie and they stood up.

Where you two going? Raymond said. You’re not leaving, are you?

Oh, we’ll be back, Maggie said, then they moved out onto the floor and Guthrie swung her out and they began to dance.

Raymond watched them. He turned toward Rose. Maybe I should move over there to the other side.

You don’t have to, she said.

Well. He drank from his glass and swallowed. I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of you, he said. Do you mind if I ask you about yourself?

I’ve lived in Holt a long time, Rose said. I work for Holt County Social Services.

Welfare, you mean.

Yes. But we don’t call it that anymore. I take care of people who need help. I have a caseload and try to help these people sort out their lives. I distribute food stamps and see that my clients get medical treatment, that kind of thing.

It must be a hard job.

It can be. But what about you? Rose said. I know you live out in the country. Maggie tells me you have a cattle ranch south of town.

Yes ma’am. We have a few cattle.

What kind?

Mostly crossbred blackbaldys.

I think I know that means they’re black with white faces.

Those are the ones. That’s correct.

I’ve heard of you, she said. About you and your brother. I suppose everybody in Holt heard about two men out in the country taking in a pregnant girl to live with them.

It was kind of hot news for a while, I guess, Raymond said. I didn’t much care for it myself. The way people talked. I couldn’t see how it was much of anybody else’s business.

No, Rose said. She looked at him and touched his arm. And I’m so sorry about your brother. I heard about that too. It must have been very hard.

Yes ma’am, it was. It was pretty bad.

He looked out to the dance floor but couldn’t see Maggie and Guthrie. Finally he said: I wonder what become of that barmaid.

Oh, she’ll be here after a while, Rose said. Wouldn’t you care to dance while we’re waiting?

Ma’am?

I said wouldn’t you care to dance.

Well, no ma’am. I don’t dance any. I never have done any dancing.

I have, she said. I can show you.

I’m afraid I’d step all over your toes.

They’ve been stepped on before. Will you try it?

You don’t think we could just sit here.

Let me show you.

Ma’am, I don’t know. You’d be awful sorry.

Let me worry about that. Let’s try.

Well, he said. He stood up and she slid out of the seat and took his hand and led him onto the floor. People were swirling around in what seemed to Raymond a violent and complicated commotion. The band finished the song to a small scattered applause, then began another in slow four-beat time. Raymond and Rose Tyler stood in the middle of the dance floor, and she drew his hand around the soft silky waist of her dress and set one of her hands on the shoulder of his wool shirt. Now just follow me, she said. She clasped his free hand and stepped back, pulling him toward her. He took a little step. Don’t look at your feet, she said.

What am I supposed to look at?

Look over my shoulder. Or you could look at me.

She moved backward and he followed her. She backed again and he stayed with her, moving slowly. Can you hear the beat? she said.

No ma’am. I can’t think about that and not step on you at the same time.

Listen to the music. Just try it. She began to count softly, looking at his face as she did, and he looked back at her, watching her lips. His face was concentrated, almost as if in pain, and he was holding himself back from her, so as not to press too close. They moved slowly around the floor among the other dancers, Rose still counting. They made a complete circuit. Then the song ended.

All right, thank you, Raymond said. Now I guess we better sit down.

Why? You’re doing fine. Didn’t you enjoy it?

I don’t know if you’d say enjoy exactly.

She smiled. You’re a nice man, she said.

I don’t know about that, either, he said.

The band began to play again. Oh, she said. A waltz. Now this is in three-four time.

The hell it is.

She laughed. Yes, it is.

I wasn’t even getting used to that other kind yet. I don’t know a thing about waltzes. Maybe I better take my seat.

No you don’t. You just have to count it out. Like before. I’ll teach you if you let me.

I suppose I can’t do no worse than I already done.

Put your arm around me again, please.

Like before?

Yes. Exactly like before.

He encircled her waist with his arm and she began to count it out for him. They moved slowly, one step, two steps, sliding around the floor, part of the crowd. Rose kept them moving.

LATER THEY WERE SITTING IN THE BOOTH AGAIN WITH Maggie Jones and Guthrie and they had each taken a second drink and were talking, and then a tall heavy man in a string tie and a brown western suit came up and asked Rose if she would care to dance. Raymond looked at her. All right, she said. He stood up and she slid out of the booth and the man led her onto the floor. Raymond watched them. The man knew how to dance, and was light on his feet despite his weight, and he twirled her around and they disappeared among the crowd of dancers.