The Glorious Prodigal Read Free

door, and found Mott waiting for her. He turned to face her. A tall man, six feet two with blond hair and hazel eyes, he was wearing a linen double-breasted suit with a matching cap. His face was puffy with the heat, and as he nodded, he said, “I’ll sure be glad when it cools off. You ready?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    Mott led her outside toward his new vehicle and said, “How do you like it?”
    Leah eyed the contraption skeptically. “To tell the truth, I’ve never ridden in an auto.”
    “You haven’t? Well, you’ll like this one. A fella named Henry Ford built it. Here, let me help you in.”
    Leah mounted the single seat and sat down and then watched as Mott cranked the engine. As soon as it was running, he leaped into the seat beside her. “Sure would be nice,” he said, panting, “if we could start these things from the inside instead of cranking them. That’ll come someday.”
    Moving the levers on the gearshift, the small automobile jerked and then moved out noisily. The armory was only ten blocks away, but they managed to scare several horses along the way. One of them pulling a buggy reared up and ran away, careening madly down the street.
    “That’s too bad,” Leah remarked.
    “Yes, it is, but horses will get used to them in time. As a matter of fact, horses are on their way out.”
    Leah preferred horses herself. She had always loved the animals and had a horse of her own back in Fort Smith, but she was realistic enough to know that Mott was probably right.
    “You look very nice,” Mott said, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. He was wearing a pair of goggles and nodded firmly. “I like that dress.”
    “Thank you, Mott. I’m looking forward to the dance.”
    “Me too. There’ll be a lot of drinking and carousing going on. There always is at these things.”
    “Well, we don’t have to join in.”
    “No, we don’t. Can’t think of anything more foolish than drinking your health away.”
    ****
    The armory was an old red brick building three stories high. It had seen plenty of use over the years, for it had been an armory during the Civil War. It was the largest building in Lewisville, and the second floor had been converted into a meeting hall. When the chairs were removed, it served as a ballroom for those rather rare occasions when Lewisville citizens came together for such an event as the Fourth of July dance.
    As Leah crested the stairs and looked around, she was surprised at the size of the crowd. The place was packed, and she murmured, “I don’t think there’s going to be room to dance, Mott.”
    “Sure there will. Here, let’s move around for a bit.”
    Mott was, Leah knew, a politician at heart, and she followed him as he greeted people, whispering to her from time to time the pertinent facts about each one. “He’s the judge. A good man to know. I’m going to ask him to support me when I run for office.”
    High above them, red, white, and blue festoons were strung across the ceiling. The late afternoon sun, along with the largecrystal chandeliers, threw a blazing light over the dancers. The bright colors of the women’s dresses caught the rays from the chandeliers—green, red, blue, purple—and the sound of many people talking and laughing made a pleasant, though rather loud, noise throughout the decorated armory.
    Leah danced with Mott, and then he surrendered her to a friend of his, Luke Garrison. Mott had laughed and said, “Luke is the sheriff, Leah. I’ll trust him to take care of you.”
    Garrison, a short man built like a wrestler, had cool gray eyes and was soft-spoken. He danced well enough but shrugged, saying, “I’m no dancer, Miss Freeman.”
    “Why, you do very well, Sheriff.”
    “I understand your fella’s going to be running for office soon.”
    “Well, he’s not really my fella, Sheriff. I think you’re right about his running, though. He’s very interested in politics.”
    A gloomy light touched the sheriff’s eyes. “I’d just