By seven, dinners were over, men had on their best clothes: freshly washed overalls, clean blue shirts, sometimes the decent blacks.
The girls were ready in their print dresses, stretched and clean, their hair braided and ribboned.
The worried women watched the families and cleaned up the evening dishes.
On the platform the string band practiced, surrounded by a double wall of children.
The people were intent and excited.
In the tent of Ezra Huston, chairman, the Central Committee of five men went into meeting.
Huston, a tall spare man, wind-blackened, with eyes like little blades, spoke to his committee, one man from each sanitary unit.
“It’s goddamn lucky we got the word they was gonna try to bust up the dance!” he said.
The tubby little representative from Unit Three spoke up.
“I think we oughta squash the hell out of ’em, an’ show ’em.”
“No,” said Huston. “That’s what they want.
No, sir.
If they can git a fight goin’, then they can run in the cops an’ say we ain’t orderly.
They tried it before—other places.” He turned to the sad dark boy from Unit Two. “Got the fellas together to go roun’ the fences an’ see nobody sneaks in?”
The sad boy nodded.
“Yeah!
Twelve.
Tol’ ’em not to hit nobody.
Jes’ push ’em out ag’in.”
Huston said,
“Will you go out an’ find Willie Eaton?
He’s chairman a the entertainment, ain’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, tell ’im we wanta see ’im.”
The boy went out, and he returned in a moment with a stringy Texas man.
Willie Eaton had a long fragile jaw and dust-colored hair. His arms and legs were long and loose, and he had the gray sunburned eyes of the Panhandle.
He stood in the tent, grinning, and his hands pivoted restlessly on his wrists.
Huston said,
“You heard about tonight?”
Willie grinned.
“Yeah!”
“Did anything ’bout it?”
“Yeah!”
“Tell what you done.”
Willie Eaton grinned happily.
“Well, sir, ordinary ent’tainment committee is five. I got twenty more—all good strong boys.
They’re a-gonna be a-dancin’ an’ a-keepin’ their eyes open an’ their ears open.
First sign—any talk or argament, they close in tight.
Worked her out purty nice.
Can’t even see nothing.
Kinda move out, an’ the fella will go out with ’em.”
“Tell ’em they ain’t to hurt the fellas.”
Willie laughed gleefully.
“I tol’ ’em,” he said.
“Well, tell ’em so they know.”
“They know.
Got five men out to the gate lookin’ over the folks that comes in.
Try to spot ’em ’fore they git started.”
Huston stood up.
His steel-colored eyes were stern.