Harry on the Prairie

Chapter 21

                   

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Who's down for a little more picnic?

******

Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian
Standin' over by the door
Fell in love with a Chocktaw maid
Over in the Georgia store

Poor ol' Kaw-Liga, you ain't never got a kiss
Poor ol' Kaw-Liga, you don't know what you miss
Is it any wonder that your face is red?
Kaw-Liga, you poor ol' wooden head...

                --Hank Williams Jr.

******

HARRY:

"Louis? Why on earth would he be lookin' for me?" A bewildered Frankie looks back-n-forth between the reverend and myself. I shrug.

"Looks like you have somethin' he wants." The look on the reverend's face tells me that he knows exactly what it is Louis wants. "Nice to meet you, Styles," he shakes my hand again, tipping his hat to Frankie. "Save me a dance, Miss Tomlinson."

The hell she will.

******

FRANKIE:

My smile's frozen on my face as I give Reverend Payne a polite nod. As soon as he turns away, I don't get one sigh of relief before Harry does a swift turnaround, his eyes drillin' into mine for answers I don't have. Normally I'd be happier than a pig in fresh slop to see Reverend Payne, but considerin' all the cuddlin' and kissin' I been up to, and the focus of the mornin' sermon, I feel the flames of hellfire flickerin' a little closer than normal.  A muscle twitches in Harry's jaw and I know he's more stirred up than a hornet's nest over the reverend sniffin' my cherry pie and requestin' a dance.

"Did you have pies to enter, Miss?" I thank the Lord for the pretty young woman at the pie booth for the distraction.

Harry turns to her, "Yes'm, we do." He sets the pecan pie he's holdin' on the ledge and makes the introductions quick and painless. Turns out this is Miss Sophia Smith, the schoolmarm I heard mention of that day in the mercantile. Seems roughly my age, and friendly enough, though I can't say the same for the two students of hers I encountered that day in Corden's. Flirty bitches.

"Harry!" Niall shouts, "Give a fella a hand, yeah?" We turn our attention to Niall who's draggin' along some sorta crate in the dirt, and stirrin' up a mighty dust cloud. He coughs and sputters, starin' at Harry expectantly.

Harry chuckles, "Lemme help this knucklehead real quick, then we'll get some lunch, okay?"

Sophia and I watch after Harry as he kinda lopes off a lil' crooked like, God bless him. "He's kinda funny, huh?" Sophia asks with a squint and a giggle.

"You have no idea," I shake my head. Boys.

Sophia labels my pies and displays them with the others. "So you're from Hunter's Glen, like the reverend?"

"Yeah, only been in town a couple weeks at best."

"You should come to the quiltin' bee we have at the Corden's sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone my age there instead of just the old biddies." Sophia grins at me and we chat easily for a bit, and soon the boys are headin' our way, pushin' and shovin' and pokin' at one another like youngsters.

Sophia leans in and whispers, "That Irish one is surefire handsome. Maybe it's the accent? I hear tell he's a mighty fine moonshiner. Ya ever gotten to try any?" Her eager eyes sparkle with excitement.

I don't know which of her revelations to respond to first, and when I turn to her with an expression of surprise she just laughs and laughs. "You're sweet on Niall? And he's a moonshiner?" I am destined for the fiery pit if I continue to surround myself with sinners and outlaws. I'm even more alarmed by how intrigued I am about all of this. "I had some strawberry wine he made once," I whisper before we burst into a fit of giggles.

By then the boys are upon us and we're tryin' to compose ourselves. Harry's eyes flick back and forth between Sophia and me, and I figure he's pleased I found a friend.

"Would you fine ladies like to join us for a barbeque lunch? All proceeds go to the new church bell fund." Niall asks, removin' his hat with a swoop and wigglin' his eyebrows at Sophia, bringin' a pink flush to her cheeks.

Sophia gets her mama to watch the pie entry booth and we take our place in the servin' line. It isn't until we get settled at a table beneath the lunch tent that Sophia and I notice the boys have two plates of food – each! They're loaded down with brisket, ribs, chicken, coleslaw, beans, cornbread muffins, yeast rolls, fried green tomatoes, fried yellow squash, baked beans, mashed taters and buttery sweet corn on the cob. I've never seen anybody in Hunter's Glen eat so much. Not even Ed, and that boy could put away the beef. He'd shove it in til his cheeks were so full it looked like he was storin' nuts for the winter.

My plate had sausage, a yeast roll, fried yellow squash, and a mess of grits. Sophia had chicken, brisket, and a heap of sliced red tomatoes. Sophia and I shared a glance when Niall pulled a little flask of wine outta his boot and poured us each a cup.  "Too early for moonshine just yet," he winked at Sophia.

"I expect to dance later, Harry. So you better not eat all of that food and pass out over yonder 'neath a tree or the like. I'd prefer to dance with you, but if you're laid out, I'll be left to my own devices." I chastise him as I watch the load of food on his plate grow smaller and smaller as he continues swallowin' it down.

"Hey," he somehow finds a way to talk around the corncob he's nibblin' from. "I didn't agree to any dancin', prancin', romancin' nonsense. Only the eatin', drinkin' and such." Harry winks at me from behind his corncob. How a man can look so attractive while stuffin' his mouth with food and barbeque sauce on his chin is beyond me. The longer I look at that sauce, the more I wanna lean' over and lick' it off, but I manage to hold myself back.

Once we finish eatin', Sophia's gotta return to the pie booth for a bit, so the boys and I spread a blanket 'neath a shade tree for a second cup of wine and a lil' shut-eye. Turns out we aren't the only group wantin' to rejuvenate before the judgin', and dancin' begins, cause we're lucky enough to snag one of the few shady spots left.