The question took Jessie completely off guard, particularly after all the worry she put herself through during the day about that very subject.

“Why, Henry, are you asking me out on a date?”

Henry winced as if the word date was too harsh.

“No, ma’am…well…I…you…you wouldn’t have to…I mean it’d be…I…I…”

“Henry,” Jessie felt the need to step in. “I’d love to go with you. Thank you so much for asking.”

Henry looked blankly in her direction, as if he couldn’t believe he asked, nor could he believe she actually said yes. He let out a big sigh of relief.

“Now would you like a glass of lemonade?” she smiled.

“No ma’am. Thank you, but I think I better just go lie down.”

Henry turned and walked back across the yard, putting his hat back on and shaking his head and thinking there must have been an easier way to do what he had just done.

CHAPTER 31

It was the third time in less than a mile that Jessie felt the need to glance over at the speedometer. She was trying to be discreet about it, but Henry noticed anyway.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No, not at all. I was just wondering how fast we were going.”

Henry glanced down at the speedometer. “About thirty-five.”

“I see.” Jessie looked out the passenger-side window. “I guess I’ve never gone this slow down this road before.” She turned to Henry and smiled. “The dance starts at eight. You think we’ll make it before then?”

“It’s only five-thirty.”

“I know,” she said jokingly. “You think we’ll make it?”

Henry had picked Jessie up when he said he would, at 5:00 p.m., for their date. He didn’t like being behind schedule, and especially didn’t want to be late this time, either. He had gone to town the day before and bought a new shirt and jeans for the occasion. He wanted to get some new boots, but couldn’t find any that fit, so he stuck with his old ones for the night. He cleaned his hat as best he could, shined up and put his old trophy belt buckle from back in his rodeo days, and slipped on his best vest.

He couldn’t recall having ever seen Jessie in anything other than her work clothes, and for some reason, he just assumed she would be wearing a cleaner version of them for the dance. He was momentarily speechless when she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Her hair, which she normally wore in a long braid, was now pulled back in a silver barrette, hung loose over her shoulders and flowed down her back. She wore a white, long-sleeve, western-style blouse with short white fringe on the yoke, and jeans that showed off her figure quite nicely, or so Henry thought, as soon as he could think again.

“Evenin’ ma’am,” he said, removing his hat and placing it over his chest.

“Good evening, Henry.”

“You look real nice.” It was the best compliment he could come up with, and Jessie knew it. It made her smile. “I guess we’re ready to go, then?” he asked.