From Round the Bend.
In the early evening, St. Louis stopped by the
Kane wagon. Squatting and watching as Matt worked on repairing a broken strap,
he sipped a cup of stout coffee. Matt's fingers worked the awl through the
leather, preparing the holes for stitching a replacement piece.
"Reckon ya heard
Abe Bennett's goin' to play his fiddle down in the meadow after dark. Young
folks fixin' to have a bonfire and a dance from what they tell me."
"I heard."
"You goin'?"
Matt smiled as he looked
up. "Suggestin' it might be better if I don't?"
"Just the
opposite."
"I don't think
there's many that'd agree with you."
"I'm sayin' ya
oughta go."
"Why?"
"It's the natural
thing. You're young, oughta be havin' a good time with other young folks."
"There won't be any
down there wanting to see me."
"Maybe one."
He couldn’t mean
Bernice. "You are not making much sense tonight."
"Folks need to see
ya ain't got nothin' to hide. Ya got every right to go down. Might actually
ease things."
Matt shook his head. “I
don’t see how.”
"Listen here, if ya
keep to yoreself, folks'll get to thinkin' there's somethin' strange about you,
somethin' unnatural. If ya come, they see ya for what ya are."
"And what's that, St. Louis?" Matt
laughed. "Who knows though. You might be right. The last time I stayed
home, I had to take a whipping."
