The Glorious Prodigal Read Free Page A

as soon be out of it,” he said. “I should have been a farmer like my dad. Less trouble.”
    “I thought law-enforcement officers led exciting lives.”
    The two were doing a two-step, and Garrison concentrated on the intricacies of the dance for a moment. “Well, you’re mistaken about that. I spend most of my time locking up pitiful drunks and trying to get votes for the next election.”
    “You make it sound terrible. I’ve read about Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson and all the famous lawmen of the Old West.”
    “I don’t think they were quite what the books make them out to be. Earp was all right, but Masterson was nothing but a cheap crook. Some of those fellows just happened to be on the right side of the law. They could have been outlaws and desperadoes just as easy.”
    Leah found the sheriff interesting, but then he surrendered her to Ace Devainy, who had come looking for her deliberately.
    “Where’s Ellie?”
    “She’s dancing with the mayor.” Ace was a homely and gangly man with yellow hair and light blue eyes. For all hishomeliness, the mothers of the town feared him, for young women had a failing for him that was hard to understand.
    Leah found Devainy an entertaining man. He enjoyed his dance with her, paying her close attention. When the band started to play a cakewalk tune, Leah protested. “I can’t do that dance!”
    “Sure you can, honey. Nothin’ to it.” Ace grinned. The cakewalk dance, originally done by southern blacks, featured prancing struts, shuffling feet, and exaggerated sways. The white version was somewhat different. The couples formed a square with the men on the inside, high strutting to a sprightly tune as they paraded imaginatively around the figure. It had a rather frenetic rhythm and a rollicking melody that was becoming known as ragtime.
    Leah was a good dancer and quickly caught on, and by the time the cakewalk was over, her eyes were sparkling, and she said to Ace, “It’s fun, but I don’t think it’s very respectable.”
    “Oh, I think it is. All my friends do it, and my friends are all respectable.”
    “That’s not what I’ve heard, Mr. Devainy.”
    “You’ve been listenin’ to the wrong people.” Ace then said, “Whoops, I’ve got to get back to the bandstand. Come along. I’ll take you over to the refreshment table.”
    Leah allowed herself to be guided to the refreshment table and watched as Ace made his way back to the bandstand. She was soon joined by Ellie, who was laughing.
    “I saw you carryin’ on with my fella. You tryin’ to steal him?”
    “No. I don’t think so. He’s a lot of fun, though.”
    Mott came over to join them, and the three stood there as the master of ceremonies called for quiet. As soon as everyone settled down, he said, “We have a real treat now. Stuart Winslow’s going to play and sing a brand-new song. You all know Stuart. His song is ‘Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey?’ ”
    Leah’s eyes were on the bandstand when a strongly built man stepped forward with a violin in his hand. He had theblackest hair she had ever seen, with brows to match, and his dark blue eyes looked almost black. Tucking the instrument loosely under his chin, he began to play and tap his foot and sing. He was handsomely dressed in a pair of fawn-colored trousers, a snow-white shirt with a string tie, and a pair of shiny leather half boots.
    Leah listened as Winslow sang the racy song, accompanying his own singing with impressive fiddling skills. When he had finished, she said, “What a wonderful voice!”
    Ellie nudged her with an elbow. “Better stay away from him. He’s worse of a woman chaser than Ace. They’re best friends, you know.”
    The crowd applauded, and then Stuart held the violin in one hand and nodded to the band. They began a slow melody, and the piano player picked out the notes in a very slow fashion. Lifting his voice, Stuart Winslow began to sing, “Because you come to me, I’ll cherish thee. . . .”
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