Nancy MacIntyre | Page 3

could hear the fiddler calling, And the scraping on the floor. Through the dingy sodhouse window Gleamed a sickly yellow light, Where I helped you from the wagon, Holding you so loving tight. Then they called out, "Choose your pardners, Numbers five, six, seven, and eight," And we hustled up to join in, For we knew that we were late. After starting up the music Something happened--you know what-- All because I loved you, Nancy, And their manners made me hot.
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I just glanced around the circle, When we came to "Balance, all;" To that mess of cowhide-covered Feet that stomped at every call. Sure enough, the thing I looked for Come to pass when Aleck Rose Tried to _dos-a-dos_ by you, dear, And, instead, waltzed on your toes. Recollect? I stopped the fiddler, And I stopped that stomping crowd, Using language that was decent, But was mighty clear and loud: "Now, you fellers from the Sand Hills, Fight me, or if you refuse You don't dance with me and Nancy While a one of you wears shoes!"
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Yes, they took them off, Miss Nancy, In respect for you and me, Putting all on equal footing, Just the way it ought to be. And we went through all the figures That we knew in that quadrille, But it didn't seem like dancin', Steppin' round so awful still. Fiddler, even, did his calling In a sort of quiet hush-- "Swing your pardners," "Back to places," "Sounds to me like paddlin' mush." "Man in center," "Circle round him," "All join hands," and "'Way you go," "Wait fur Betsy, she's in trouble, With a splinter in her toe."
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When I took you home, towards morning, Such a night I never saw. How the Kansas wind was blowing! Swift and keen and kind o' raw. Blew more furious every minute, Blew a hole clear through the skies; Blew so loud, like demons hissing, That the moon was 'fraid to rise. Got so fierce it blew the stars out, Saw them flicker, then go dead, While the blackness, mad and murky, Rolled in thunder overhead. Goin' with it, durn my whiskers! Hind wheels riz plumb off the ground; Goin' 'gainst it, you and me, dear, Had to push the hosses down.
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Now and then a raindrop whistled Like a bullet past my head; And I hollered out to you, dear, "Scrooch down in the wagon bed." Then they come as big as hen eggs; Struck the hosses stinging raps, Till the frightened, tremblin' critters Leaped beneath the angry slaps. Lord a'mighty, how they scampered! While I gripped the lines in tight, As the wagon box sailed upward Like a mighty wind-borne kite. Down below us ran the hosses, While we floated through the air, But through all that roaring shakeup, You, dear, never turned a hair.
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When the lightning flashed around us, Rabbits stopped to let us by,-- Looked as if they said by halting, "We can't race with things that fly!" Coyotes sneaked off in the slough grass, Prairie dogs stayed in their holes; We was lubricated blazes,-- Couldn't stop to save our souls. Up the hills we flew like swallows, Down the slopes, a hurricane, Bumped and jumped the humps and hollows, Dragged the ground and riz again. And I prayed, "Dear Lord, save Nancy, For a desperate lover's sake!" You was hangin' to my gallus, And I felt it strain and break.
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Felt you holdin' to my boot-leg, Slattin' in the roarin' gale, So, to save you, I worked for'ard, Got the nigh hoss by the tail. Miles on miles we tore on blindly, Had to let the critters roam, Till, at last, they turned their noses To the north, and towards their home. We went charging down a valley, Stopped in something soft and deep; Wagon box and you and me, dear, Landed in a mixed-up heap. Both the hosses' legs was buried And I knew that that was proof We had 'lighted on the top of Old Jim Davis's dug-out roof.
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Now, old Jim was sleeping soundly Close beside his faithful wife; Peace had smoothed his savage wrinkles, All his dreams were free from strife. He was safe from ragin' cyclones, Wolves could never force his door, All the ills of life had vanished, On his mountain torrent snore. So when our descent awoke him Sitting bolt upright in bed, With the flying hoofs above him, Kicking hair off of his head, He aroused his sleeping helpmeet; Loud his curses and abuse, "Mary, hike your lazy carcass, Hell has turned the devil loose."
[Illustration: "Bringing back a hat of water, Through the dim light and the rain."]
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While ole Jim was shooting at us-- Couldn't make him understand; Kept his blamed old gun a-going Till he got me through the hand-- Not a whimper did you utter, But you