Book Cover  •  Table of Contents  •  < PREV Chapter  •  NEXT Chapter >

CHAPTER 42

The Party

      AT FOUR o'clock in the afternoon, the place was full.

      Luckily, Eustace Mallory had come down early and brought extra meat, or they'd have been short of food. But thanks to him, there was even plenty of chili.

      And there was plenty of beer.

      And there were cakes! The morning before, Swan — as if she hadn't had enough else to do — had gone over to her mother's and they had baked a dozen cakes. Swan had frosted them all with pink frosting, and scattered candy hearts across the top. "I was going to go make more this morning," he said, when Lucy admired them, "But then last night Bobby came . . ."

      By five, they really started coming in. There were people in Cowboy Bob's whom Lucy hadn't seen since high school — and people she never knew existed. Many of the women were dressed in full-skirted square-dance dresses with fluffy nylon-net petticoats, and there were couples in matching rodeo outfits and hand-tooled boots and fringed jackets. Even the shabbiest cowboys were wearing their shiny prize buckles on their belts. People occupied every chair and table, every bench, and every stool. And they leaned against the walls and sat two-to-a-chair. And all of them ordered sandwiches and chili, and they all drank beer and laughed it up and altogether began having a great time.

      Lucy, Swan, and Melida were kept busy serving, and Bobby was pouring out two beers at a time.

      The band got there at six, and as soon as the music started, people got up and began dancing. Ricky Morganstern was waltzing around with Rudy Grosbeck's niece, and he seemed to be double-dating with Cal Arthur and the young woman he'd been with the previous night.

      At about seven, Joseph Pump arrived, and who was on his arm but Mrs. Arthur. And behind them, still more people kept coming in. By now, there were so many standing that Cal and Ricky sneaked out with Pancho Schneider and borrowed the folding chairs from the Baptist Church. "It's on my own responsibility," Cal said solemnly, as he and Ricky lined them up around the walls, "I'll take them back in the morning."

      Finally, at seven-thirty, Swan took off her apron and stepped out to the center of the dance floor. She raised her arms, the band stopped playing, and everybody hushed down as she began to speak, her eyes sparkling. "Now ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have the judging of the costume contest." And everybody began clapping.

      Swan was dressed beautifully enough to be a winner herself, in a white squaw dress with silver jewelry and little blue and silver tooled boots. Even though she'd gotten so thin and sad lately, tonight she looked a real beauty.

      "And I got a surprise for you," she continued, "Because although we've been telling everybody we were going to have a prize — now, as it turns out . . ."

      She paused to build suspense. "As it turns out, we're going to have not one — but five prizes! So how do you' like that."

      Obligingly, the crowd began to clap and hooray. Swan let them go on a minute, and then she held up her hand, and hushed them. "And the prizes are going to be for: best woman's costume, best men's costume, best couple, best Valentine . . . and funniest." Everyone seemed to like all that, because they all clapped and shouted again.

      When they had settled down again, Swan said, "And I want to add that all our prizes . . ." she held up a large, heart-shaped box of candy, "were donated by our generous friend, Mr. Eustace Mallory, of Chuck Wagon Meats in Duke City. Mr. Mallory, take a bow."

      Eustace Mallory, who was already very flushed from having enjoyed several beers, got up from the table where he was sitting with five good-looking women, to say loudly, "Glad to do it. And I'll be amply repaid if you folks just remember our motto, 'Chuck Wagon Meats are New Mexico's finest!' And when you're buying a steak, make sure you get the best — that's all."

      He bowed and then raised both his arms like the winner in a footrace. When everybody cheered, he bowed again.

      Then Swan took the floor again. "Okay now, about our judges. We had a hard time picking them out, because I know you folks all want to win — and I wish you could. But we wanted to have somebody who'd pick the best, and not just their buddies. Right?"

      That was a good point, and people began nodding at each other. Only Bub Brewster (not too sober) shouted, "No, I want my brother to judge. 'Cause he'd choose for me!" That made everybody laugh, because Bub had on just what he always did, and the only thing he wore that might be construed as a costume was turkey feather in the band of his big 'Hoss Cartright' hat.

      But then, Chuckie Brewster capped it by shouting, "No you don't, because I'd sure pick somebody prettier'n you, y'dumb shit!" At that, Bub gave him a punch on the arm, and everybody laughed even more.

      "So anyway," Swan went on, "We finally decided on three judges: First off, Mr. Eustace Mallory, since he supplied the prizes . . ." People began to clap, and Eustace Mallory got up — looking dumbstruck — and Swan beckoned him to come stand by her. He crossed the floor looking red and embarrassed, but then recovered himself by trying to put his arm around Swan's waist. She slapped his hand off in a friendly way, and that made everybody laugh again.

      "I'll do my best," Eustace Mallory said loudly. "But I got to tell you I'm prejudiced toward pretty girls!"

      "Our second judge," Swan continued, "Is going to be Mr. Charlie White of the WesterTex Brewery Distributing — it's only right, you know, since he brought the beer."

      That got another laugh. Charles White was not very popular in Los Nietos, but the way Swan introduced him made everyone feel good-humored toward him. And most people agreed that he wouldn't play favorites.

      When she called his name, Charles White came away from the bar to stand by Eustace Mallory. He hadn't brought his wife after all, and he looked very pleased with himself tonight.

      "And now for our third judge," Swan said, "We wanted to have a home-grown product, but it was hard to decide on anybody, since most of us have our friends and favorites around here. And that would make it hard for a person to be even-handed when deciding on the winners."

      Swan let her eyes rove over the room as she spoke, and people began to shift in their seats, wondering who the third judge was going to be.

      Lucy wondered, too. Swan had been saying 'we decided' but unless she'd talked it over with Bobby, this was all her own doing. Lucy thought she'd done an outstanding job, too.

      "So anyway," Swan said, "We finally hit on a person who will not play any favorites at all . . ."

      She put her hands on her hips with a mock scowl, and then she stomped over to where Clive and Bertie Watkins were lounging against the wall, each one holding a beer. She grabbed Bertie by the hand and half-dragged him out to where Eustace Mallory and Charles White were standing. And then, laughing and teasing him, she said, "So, if he'll do it — here's our third judge, our own Bertie Watkins. And we all know he'll be fair with us all — since he's as mean to his friends as he is to everybody else . . ."

      That brought down the house. At first Bertie glared, but then he began to look rather sheepish as everybody kept clapping. "Will you do it, Mr. Bertie?" Swan demanded. "Will you do us the honor of judging for us?"

      When she put it that way, he had to nod. "All right, I guess . . ." And by now everyone could see that under his frown, he was beginning to be pleased by all the attention.

      Swan had planned everything out: She sat the judges on chairs by the band, then she had the band play some marching music. Then she told all the people who wanted to compete to form a big circle and parade past the judges' chairs. She had them pass two or three times, so everyone had time to see them.

      While that was going on, the judges were having a good time, too. They whispered together, sometimes nodding and other times shaking their heads. By now, everyone was in a state of great suspense, because even those who did not compete had picked out people they wanted to win.

      It took almost thirty minutes for all the parading and deciding, but finally the judges were ready. They wrote out the names of the winners on little bits of paper and handed them to Bertie to hold.

      Charles White stood up. Imitating the Academy Awards on TV he said "All right, the envelope, please . . ." And even that was a good enough joke to make people laugh at this stage. Bertie handed him one of the slips of paper, and Eustace Mallory stood ready with the candy.

      Best Couple went to a man and wife who ran a little ranch just east of Fort Stockton. They had several grown children, but they still danced in all the square dances. They were wearing their square-dance costumes — she in a pink and white checked dress with five layers of red tulle underskirt, he with a pink and white cowboy shirt and red pants and boots. A lot of their friends were in the crowd, and everybody seemed satisfied that they had won.

      Best Woman went to another niece of Mr. Grosbeck's. She was a pretty, dark-haired sixteen-year-old, who worked every summer at Mr. Pump's Dairy-Kreme. She'd already been a beauty queen in high school, and she had gone to a lot of trouble by sewing red paper hearts all over her white Sunday dress and putting red ribbons in her hair and tying red bows on her shoes, so nobody was surprised that she won. Eustace Mallory gave her a big kiss when he handed her the candy, and then gave a big Indian whoop and tried to kiss her again — until the cowboy she had come with got a little huffy, so he quit.

      They gave the Best Boy prize to a nice youngster that worked on a drilling rig about twenty miles to the west of town. He rode in a lot of rodeos, and he had on his red satin rodeo shirt and fringed jacket.

      But the prize Lucy liked most went to Best Valentine. For that one, they picked a really adorable Hispanic baby. His mama had made him a little red knit suit, with a little heart-shaped bonnet and red ribbons that tied under the chin.

      Eustace Mallory made a short speech as he handed the candy to the baby's mother. "You know what," he said. "This baby was born a year ago today, too. And by golly, if they didn't go and name him Valentino! How's that for a good Valentine." Then he kissed the baby. He also kissed the mama, who was pretty.

      But the most popular prize of all was the one awarded for funniest costume. Swan had announced there would be a separate parade for that category, after the rest of the judging was over. As nobody had known in advance that there would be such a contest, that gave the young men who wanted to compete time to improvise. One of them put his shirt on backward, and another rolled up his jeans to show his knobby knees and a couple of them borrowed their date's lipsticks to paint up their faces like wild Indians.

      As they paraded past the judges, Swan leaned over, laughing, and whispered to Lucy, "We got to do this again next year. We just got to." And Lucy nodded.

      The winner really was the funniest: it was the little roughneck who had quarreled with Bub and Chuckie Brewster, the night of Gene's bachelor party. He hadn't dressed up or painted his face, and he didn't try to act silly, until, just before the judging was over, he lifted his arms and shouted, "Say, most of you never got to see my costume."

      Then he dropped his pants. Everyone could see that he was wearing pink boxer shorts with red hearts all over them. And it was so unexpected — and so ridiculous — that everyone burst out laughing. Chuckie Brewster almost fell out of his chair. Grinning like a hyena, and still with his jeans at half-mast, the roughneck ran to the end of the line of contestants and called out, "Folks, my name is Winchell P. Stuck — and I got to tell you that whatever else happens tonight, you've sure got Stuck in the end!" He won the box of candy with no contest.

      The rest of the evening was equally successful. People ate, and drank their beer, and danced. Once, when Lucy was passing him with her tray, Charles White hailed her with a grin, saying, "Guess you're goin' to be out of the woods after all, honey. And I must say I'm pleased as I can be about that."

      Normalade was the only fly in the ointment. She sauntered in about eight-thirty, dressed to kill. She was wearing another new outfit — a black skirt and black stockings, with a tight silver vest, cut very low in front. She went right over to Bobby and said a few sentences to him, very pleasant and brisk-seeming. He started, looked at her hard, and then shrugged angrily as he answered her. At that, Normalade tossed her head and they parted.

      As soon as Swan came up with her next order, he motioned her to the end of the bar, where they spend a minute or two in whispered conversation. Lucy looked up from table six, and saw them together. She saw Swan turn pale, then flushed up and press her lips together. But even from the far side of the room, and without hearing them, Lucy had understood; she had read the word that was on Bobby's lips: divorce.

      Normalade spent the rest of the evening hanging around the single men and dancing with anybody who asked her. She never spoke a word to either Lucy or Swan.

      "A divorce. This is going to be bad," Lucy thought in dismay. "If I know Normalade, she'll drag out every bit of dirt for everybody to see, and Uncle Bob will just die. And as for Swan — oh, bad things are on the way.

      But she was simply too busy to worry about it now.

      At about nine, Shark got up to announce that Gallatin was going to sing. And at that, everything stopped cold, because although most of the people had not heard him before — they'd all heard about him.

      Tonight, he simply stepped forward and began. And they were all . . . spellbound. Lucy most of all.

      She had been so rushed all evening that she had managed to push the thought of him to the back of her mind, almost to convince herself that he had only been a passing fancy. A childish infatuation, nothing more.

      But when the room quieted for him to sing, she had to stop to look at him.

      And then, it was no use. She was helpless again.

      He looked so good to her — tall, skinny, shabby . . . he was all she wanted in the world. And as he sang, the sound of his voice lifted her away from herself, sent her floating, as if she were drifting on the water. Until she could almost feel her long hair spreading out around her, as the music took her where it chose. And maybe, she thought, maybe it would draw her under it at last.

      "Oh Gallatin — " No matter how hard she tried to be brave, her eyes began to fill again.

      It was fortunate for Lucy that everyone was looking at the band, because her feelings must have been written all over her face. She was in such pain at the thought of his leaving that she felt — wounded by love, like a picture she'd once seen on a sentimental Valentine — a woman in a white dress, falling to the ground and dying, with an arrow of love piercing her heart.

      When he finished the set, as the band took its break, she found Charles White standing beside her.

      "Where did you find that boy?" he demanded. "He. Is. Good. And believe me, I know good when I see it."

      "He's Shark's brother," Lucy answered. "You know, the young man that works in the kitchen? Right now he's with this band in Albuquerque, but he intends to go to Nashville and be a professional singer."

      "Well there's no need for him to go all the way to Tennessee." Charles White's eyes were shining as if he were looking at money. "I got a friend that's making records right in Austin. And another one who's on a radio program there. That's all that boy needs — exposure. And he could be a real star."

      Charles White leaned close to Lucy and put his hand on her arm, as if he thought that by touching her he could induce her do what he wanted. "Listen — that boy ought to have a good manager. Can you introduce me to him? Right now? I think he and I could do each other some real good."

      There was nothing Lucy wanted more than for Gallatin to have everything he wanted — unless it was to have him stay here with her forever. And yet she hesitated. Charles White could be so mean . . . when he could, he would always take advantage of a person. Of a situation. Would she really be doing Gallatin a favor to put them together?

      Then she realized that if she didn't introduce them to each other, Charles White would simply go over and introduce himself. There was no way she could protect Gallatin from him.

      So she took Charles White over and introduced him.

      These were the first words she'd exchanged words with Gallatin all day. She managed it, but she had to get away fast. And after that, she had to go into the kitchen for a minute. To see how Gene was doing. To dry her eyes.

      Melida was there with Gene. "Hi Lucy," Melida said, "I had to come check and see if my husband still knows how to cook — since he never does this at home for me." She gave Gene a teasing, loving look.

      What Lucy really wanted was a moment to herself. So as the band started up again, she said, "Why don't you two go dance a couple; I'll mind things in here."

      They didn't need a second invitation.

      All by herself, Lucy sought calm. She moved things from one counter to another. She checked the cooler to see how the salsa was holding out, stirred the chili, put on more coffee.

      Over the sound of the music and voices in the other room, she heard the phone begin to ring. The instrument was located just under the bar — convenient to whoever was back there, but not too handy for customers, since it was a nuisance to have them tying up the line.

      It rang and rang.

      Lucy was busy slicing tomatoes, but when the ringing went on and on, she put down the knife and went to the door and answered it. But things were so noisy that she could hear nothing, so, carrying the phone, she stepped back into the kitchen and tried again. "Hello?"

      "Miss Lucia Vance, please? Or Mr. Roberto Vance?" It was Mrs. Panadero's voice.

      "This is Lucy, Mrs. Panadero. Is everything okay?"

      "Yes, fine, but . . . your Tio is so very restless. Can you — do you think you could come home for a little while?"

      "Is he sick, Mrs. Panadero? Is he all right?"

      "Not sick, but — you know, he won't ever talk to me. And maybe if one of you was here, he would tell you . . ."

      "I'll come," Lucy said. "I'm coming now."

      She hung up the phone. This was such a bad time for her to leave. But Mrs. Panadero would not have called unless she was really concerned. She went through the swinging doors — and there was Swan, talking to Tagg.

      "Hi," Tagg greeted her, "It's time for us to dance — remember, you promised."

      Lucy cut him off with a shake of her head and turned to Swan. "Mrs. Panadero just called; she says Uncle Bob needs me"

      "Is everything okay?"

      "I think so, probably — but I've got to go see. Can you manage without me for a few minutes?"

      "Sure — Melida's here to help." Swan nodded. "Do you want Bobby to go with you?"

      "No, just tell him where I am." Then, as an afterthought, "If it looks like I'll be long, I'll call. So you might listen for the phone."

      Swan nodded. "We'll manage until you get back."

      But as she was turning to go, Lucy thought of something. "Listen, Swan — if for some reason I don't get back, pay the band, will you? I told them forty-five dollars, but it ought to be more. Give 'em . . ."

      "Sixty?" Swan suggested.

      "No . . . a hundred. That's a lot, but they earned it."

      "Okay — but go now, while the music's still on. Once it's over, the orders will pile up again."

      Tagg followed her into the kitchen. "I'm going to take you."

      "I can drive okay, Tagg."

      "I know, but I'm going to take you."

Cover  •  Contents  •  < PREV Chapter  •  NEXT Chapter >  •  Page Top