“Do you clog?” Andy asked.
“A little, but not today. Emily and the kids around here are really good at it. You are in for a show.”
Before Woody could get the fiddle up to his neck, Carlton had his microphone out again. “I see that the band is about to make some changes before the party. We’ve all gotten to know one another a little better this afternoon, and I’ll visit with each of you in town next week. This investment is a big decision, but I know you will each recognize that it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you can’t turn down.”
Nettie walked up beside Vicky and Andy. “Is he going to put a horse’s head in our beds if we turn him down?”
Andy chuckled. “He said a lot about nothin’.”
“Why are they changin’ fiddlers?” Andy asked.
“Shane is very good at clogging. He’ll want to dance, not play,” Vicky explained.
Carlton looked out over the crowd as if he expected applause to rattle up out of the buzz of whispers. Nettie slowly stood, and even the children quieted.
“It’s been a good afternoon. We should do this again in the fall. Be sure to put your fans in this basket.” She pointed. “And pick up all your trash. Thanks to everyone who brought food and wine. We’ll see all y’all in church tonight. Now Woody is going to play and let our kids strut their stuff as a closing number.”
Applause and whistle calls drowned out whatever it was that Carlton tried to say next, and then Woody wound up a whining fiddle to a nice slow country song. Shane crossed the lawn and held out his hand to Jancy, who turned her back on Hilton and looped her arms around his neck.
“I thought they were going to clog,” Andy said.
“They will. The kids all need a couple of slow dances to get them ready. It won’t be long,” Vicky told him.
Woody broke into a good two-stepping country song, “Country Roads.” Tapping his foot to keep time, he shut his old eyes and really got into the music.
“May I?” Andy got to his feet.
Vicky tucked her hand in his and kicked off her sandals. “Don’t seem fittin’ to dance to that song with shoes on.”
He settled his face into her dark hair, and the warmth of his breath made her scalp tingle. With the grass soft on her bare feet, she wished the song would go on forever, but all too soon it ended. Andy took a step back, picked up her hand, and kissed the palm.
“Thank you for a lovely afternoon, Miz Vicky Rawlins,” he whispered.
Hilton tapped Shane on the shoulder when the next slow song started, but Jancy shook her head. “I promised the last couple of dances to this man, but it’s been real nice gettin’ to know you, Hilton,” Jancy said.
“Find out m-much?” Shane asked when Hilton sauntered away, casting a look around for his next target.
“Just that Carlton is determined to own Pick and that he doesn’t give up easy,” she said and smiled. “I love this song.”
“I asked the guys who are standing in to play a couple of extra songs so I could dance with you.” Shane grinned.
“After wallowing in the mud with that man all afternoon, this is wonderful.” Jancy snuggled in close to Shane’s chest. Sparks danced around them, and she felt as if she was floating six inches off the ground. She was really dancing with Shane, the guy that she’d never been able to get out of her mind.
The song ended, but Woody and the older guys went right into one more, and Shane kept Jancy in his arms. Leonard picked up the microphone and did a fine job with an old George Jones tune, “Tennessee Whiskey.”
Shane sang along with the lyrics that said she was sweet as Tennessee whiskey and strawberry wine. Princess dreams filled Jancy for those three or four minutes with Shane as her knight in shining armor.
“Okay, folks,” Leonard said when the song was finished. “Woody is warmed up, and I’ll turn this microphone over to a man who can call a clog better than I can. Choose your partners and let’s close this party out in real Pick style.”
Shane grabbed Jancy’s hand and led her to the pavilion. Ryder quickly laced his fingers in Emily’s and fell in behind Shane and Jancy. The other three couples joined them, with two more bringing up the rear.
“I practiced a little this mornin’, but it’s been a long time,” Jancy said.
“You’ll rem-m-member real quick.”
Woody pulled the bow across the fiddle. Pretty soon the sound of fast music and feet clogging on the wooden stage joined the clapping of the folks keeping time and filled the whole park. If Carlton Wolfe didn’t get the message, he was just plain stupid. Pick, Texas, had a heartbeat of its own, and the folks there didn’t need a pacemaker.