They entered the hall and were greeted by the cheery voice of the male caller:
Rope the cow, brand the calf
Swing your sweetheart, once and a half...
Rorie hadn’t known what to expect, but she was surprised by the smooth-stepping, smartly dressed dancers who twirled around the floor following the caller’s directions. She felt more daunted than ever by the evening ahead of her. And to worsen matters, Kate had insisted Rorie borrow one of her outfits. Although Rorie liked the bright blue colors, she felt awkward and self-conscious in the billowing skirts.
The Grange itself was bigger than Rorie had anticipated. On the stage stood the caller and several fiddlers. Refreshment tables lined one wall and the polished dance floor was so crowded Rorie wondered how anyone could move without bumping into others. The entire meeting hall was alive with energy and music, and despite herself, she felt her mood lift. Her toes started tapping out rhythms almost of their own accord. Given time, she’d be out there, too, joining the vibrant, laughing dancers. It was unavoidable, anyway. She knew Kate wouldn’t allow her to sit sedately in the background and watch. Neither would Clay and Skip, who’d just arrived.
“Oh, my feet are moving already.” Kate was squirming with eagerness. Clay smiled indulgently, tucked his arm around her waist and the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. He glanced back once at Rorie, before a circle of eight opened up to admit them.
“Shall we?” Luke asked, eyeing the dance floor.
He didn’t sound too enthusiastic and Rorie didn’t blame him. “Would it be all right if we sat out the first couple of dances?” she asked. “I’d like to get more into the swing of things.”
“No problem.”
Luke looked almost grateful for the respite, which didn’t lend Rorie much confidence. No doubt he assumed this city slicker was going to make a fool of herself and of him—and she probably would. When he escorted her to the row of chairs, Rorie made the mistake of sitting down. Instantly her skirts leaped up into her face. Embarrassed, she pushed them down, then tucked the material under her thighs in an effort to tame the layers of stiff petticoats.
“Hello, Luke.” A pretty blonde with sparkling blue eyes sauntered over. “I didn’t know if you’d show tonight or not. Glad you did.”
“Beth Hammond, this is Rorie Campbell.”
Rorie nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Beth.”
“Oh, I heard about you at the drugstore yesterday. You’re the gal with the broken-down sports car, aren’t you?”
“That’s me.” By now it shouldn’t have surprised Rorie that everyone knew about her troubles.
“I hope everything turns out okay.”
“Thanks.” Although Beth was speaking to Rorie, her eyes didn’t leave Luke. It was patently obvious that she expected an invitation to dance.
“Luke, why don’t you dance with Beth?” Rorie suggested. “That way I’ll gather a few pointers from watching the two of you.”
“What a good idea,” Beth chirped eagerly. “We’ll stay on the outskirts of the crowd so you can see how it’s done. Be sure and listen to Charlie—he’s the caller. Then you’ll see what each step is.”
Rorie nodded agreeably.
Luke gave Rorie a long sober look. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
All join hands, circle right around
Stop in place at your hometown...
Studying the dancers, Rorie quickly picked up the terms do se do, allemande left and allemande right and a number of others, which she struggled to keep track of. By the end of the dance, her foot was tapping out the lively beat of the fiddlers’ music and a smile formed as she listened to the perfectly rhyming words.
“Rorie,” Skip said, suddenly standing in front of her. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
“I...I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
“Nonsense.” Without listening to her protest, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.
“Skip, I’ll embarrass you,” she protested in a low whisper. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You’ve got to start sometime.” He tucked his arm around her waist and led her close to the stage.
“We got a newcomer, Charlie,” Skip called out, “so make this one simple.”
Charlie gave Skip a thumbs-up and reached for the microphone. “We’ll go a bit slower this time,” Charlie announced to his happy audience. “Miss Rorie Campbell from San Francisco has joined us and it’s her first time on the floor.”
Rorie wanted to curl up and die as a hundred faces turned to stare at her. But the dancers were shouting and cheering their welcome and Rorie shyly raised her hand, smiling into the crowd.
Getting through that first series of steps was the most difficult, but soon Rorie was in the middle of the floor, stepping and twirling—and laughing. Something she’d always assumed to be a silly, outdated activity turned out to be great fun.
By the time Skip led her back to her chair, she was breathless. “Want some punch?” he asked. Rorie nodded eagerly. Her throat felt parched.
When Skip left her, Luke Rivers appeared at her side. “You did just great,” he said sincerely.
“For a city girl, you mean,” she teased.
“As good as anyone.”
“Thanks.”
“I suspect I owe you an apology, Rorie.”
“Because you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself with me on the dance floor?” she asked with a light laugh. “That’s understandable. Kate and Clay practically threw me in your lap. I’m sure you had other plans for tonight, and I’m sorry for your sake that we got stuck with each other.”
Luke grinned. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of envious looks from around the room. Any of a dozen different men would be more than happy to be ‘stuck’ with you.”
That went a long way toward boosting her ego. She would have commented, but Skip came back just then carrying a paper cup filled with bright pink punch. A teenage girl was beside him, clutching his free arm and smiling dreamily up at him.
“I’m going to dance with Caroline now, okay?” he said to Rorie.
“That’s fine,” she answered, smiling, “and thank you for braving the dance floor with me.” Skip blushed as he slipped an arm around Caroline’s waist and hurried her off.
“You game?” Luke nodded toward the dancing couples.
Rorie didn’t hesitate. She swallowed the punch in three giant gulps, and gave him her hand. Together they moved onto the crowded floor.
By the end of the third set of dances, Rorie had twirled around with so many different partners, she lost track of them. She’d caught sight of Clay only once, and when he saw her he waved. Returning the gesture, she promptly missed her footing and nearly fell into her partner’s waiting arms. The tall sheriff’s deputy was all too happy to have her throw herself at him and told her as much, to Rorie’s embarrassment.
Although it was only ten o’clock, Rorie was exhausted and so warm the perspiration