Miracle in a Dry Season Read Online Free PDF Page B

up. Casewell set his mandolin aside with the care a mother would use placing a baby in its cradle. He stretched and headed for the refreshment table.
    “You boys are in fine form,” Robert said, shaking Casewell’s hand.
    “Thought you were going to join us,” Casewell said, grinning.
    “Oh, I may yet—once I’ve wore myself out with eating and dancing,” the older man said with a wink. “Now step right up here and fill you a plate. That’s Delilah’s hummingbird cake over there, but you’d better have a ham biscuit or two first. Perla brought that basket of biscuits over there, and although I’ve seen at least a dozen people reach into it, seems like they’ve hardly made a dent. Better fall to so you can keep your strength up. This crowd looks like it could dance all night.”
    Casewell let Robert talk on while he filled a plate with food. He made his way down the length of the table to where the drinks left wet rings on the tablecloth. Perla stood behind the table with a cup in her hand.
    “Can I pour you a drink?” she asked.
    “Sure,” he said. “How about some of that sweet tea?”
    Perla poured and Casewell had to confess that she looked like an angel standing there. A straw hat that was little more than a headband held her honey-wheat hair back from her brow and sent it cascading down her back. Her pink dress was cinched in at her waist, with a full skirt falling to below her knees. There was nothing suggestive about her clothes, but somehow she looked more womanly than any other female in the room. Casewell swallowed hard.
    “Have you been enjoying the dance?” he asked.
    “I’ve enjoyed watching it,” Perla said. “I don’t really know these dances. I guess I haven’t had much of a chance to learn.” She ducked her head and smoothed the cloth at the edge of the table with gloved hands.
    “We’ll do some square dancing here before long. It’s easy to jump in on that. George will call the steps, and even if you don’t understand, all you have to do is watch the other folks in your square.”
    “Maybe I’ll try,” Perla said, still pressing the tablecloth with her fingers.
    Casewell felt the urge to protect her—from what he wasn’t sure. “If I didn’t have to play, I’d show you,” he said, sounding like an eager schoolboy. He blushed and saw that Perla did, too. “Guess I’d better eat this.” He rushed to fill the space between them with words. “They’ll want to dance some more before long.” He nodded once and went to sit on a corner of the stage to eat, wondering what in the world had just come over him.
    Steve sauntered over, breath slightly boozy. “Fine-lookin’ woman, that,” he said, nodding toward Perla. “And from what I hear, might be she’s easy to get on with.”
    “What do you mean by that?” Casewell asked, spine stiffening.
    “Well, she’s got that young’un and no man to speak of. Ain’t but one way for a woman to get a child of her own.” Steve winked and leered across the barn at an oblivious Perla.
    Casewell felt a surge of anger, although he’d made some of the same sorts of assumptions without speaking them aloud. He wanted to defend Perla, but he couldn’t think what to say. He really didn’t know the woman, and Steve might be right. Casewell looked across the room, where Perla was helping some of the children to slices of cake. No, he didn’t know how Perla came to be in Wise with a child and no husband, but he would do his best to give her the benefit of the doubt.
    “I wouldn’t know about that,” Casewell said, “since I don’t go around gossiping with the women much.”
    Steve flushed, then grinned and slapped Casewell on the back. “Reckon you don’t,” he said. “Now eat up so we can get these folks back to dancin’ afore they get bored and go home.”
    The band did several square dance sets and then started taking requests for favorites, which had folks stomping up and down the barn floor. Certain members of the