THE DANCE

The force of the unseen punch had me staggering backwards and off balance. My foot caught on something and down I went, landing flat on my back in the loose straw. My eyes wanted to close while I was struggling to stay alert. From the barn floor looking up I saw lanterns giving off a warm yellow glow and folks staring down at me.

From the straw covered barn floor where I'd ended up, this Michigan farm boy watched Greg Howard circle with both his hands made into large ham like fists. His handsome face showed anger as he glared down at me. From that look on his face I knew I was in for it.

The crowd at the local barn dance was silent as they watched two friends fighting over Michele; Michele Stevens that lovely flower, so beautiful, shapely and so wonderful. This young lady, with her sweet smell of perfume was often on my mind. Oh how pleasing she was to my senses. She was a warm wonderful woman that I desired and wanted. Let me tell you about her long lovely curls cascading down over her shoulders in waves of glossy brown hair. A charming desirable young woman and was she ever a pleasing sight to behold.

This awesome lady had asked me to dance and I'd accepted knowing it would make Greg unhappy. Gregory was my best friend since the third grade and I liked him a lot. But Michele was something else, she was a mighty line looking lady and the temptation was too much for me to resist. That is if I had wanted to.

What I really wanted was to dance with her and hold her in my arms. I'd spent many a marvelous moments thinking about her. I often dreamed about her walking with me hand in hand through green meadows of grass and flowers. I always hoped, maybe, someday it would happen for us, but Gregory had asked her to the dance first. I was way too shy to invite her to go with me. I thought about it a lot but never did ask her. I hated being so backwards around women.

Greg had brought her to the Grange Hall Dance and I guess I was way out of line while not enough to end up down here. A slow anger burned within me at first. He had sucker punched me; hitting me without any warning and now he stood over me and with a gruff voice he said, "Ron Holden, you stay away from my girl! You hear me?" His tone held no sympathy in it at all. I guess you could say he was more than upset with my actions in the last few moments.

But sucker punching was way out of line between friends. As I started up a stabbing pain exploded in my left side as his big shoe made contact with my ribs and the stabbing, throbbing pain blotted out all else. Now that red-hot temper of mine started to flare up and all I could think about was Greg Howard that was way too much among friends like we were. It doesn't feel all that good when ya make me hurt like this.

Pushing hard on the floor I ended upright, on my feet. My legs did a shaky little dance as I wobbled around a bit. Forcing a weak smile onto my face, while glancing at Michele, she looked concerned, but for who? Gregory seemed so cocksure of himself and was now closing the gap between the two of us. I knew in my heart he would finish me off quickly if I didn't move out of his way.

Circling to my right to stay away from him and his big right fist, the excruciating pain in my ribs got my immediate attention. I was moving to protect my right side and my head. His next shot was a haymaker designed to put me down for the count, like a sharp scythe cutting through tall grass it came my way. I felt that haymaker, as it touched the hair on the top of my head and sailed on by. That my friend was way to close!

With a short shot I hit pay dirt. My target was his small stomach. It was hard, although I heard a breath of air escape his lungs; otherwise it didn't look like it made any difference. His facial expression didn't change that much. With lots of confidence he was strutting like a Banty Rooster, as he stalked me.

The barn dance crowd was gathering around standing in near silence. As I back peddled I noticed Michele in the crowd with her left hand covering her mouth and fear showing in her baby blue eyes. Those pretty eyes that captivated me so. She was so breathtaking it's no wonder Gregory didn't want me near her. I guess I didn't blame him for that.

Gregory's big right hand tried to catch up to me as I danced to my right. There was no sting left in his punch as my left forearm blocked it. While he was recovering from his wild punch, I bounced a right fist off his suddenly flattened nose and blood sprayed all over his clothes and the straw on the barn floor. While he was thinking about that I stung him three more times. First to the side of his face and as he covered up then twice more on his upper arm and shoulder with two good solid shots that I knew had hurt. Then one more for good measure to the stomach as his elbows came up to high. It was a bad mistake at this stage of the game. Thinking to myself, Greg my boy, you better start thinking or I'm going to lay it on you hard and fast. My side still hurt as he gave ground. Putting a big smile on his face Greg said to me, "Is that all you got? It looks to me like you're in a heap of trouble, Ronald." I'd heard him use that kind of psychology on other people; it meant the opposite, it had hurt him.

Stepping in I pressed him, faked a left and my right uppercut found its mark, then this ole hayseed followed that up with a hard left to his eye and a right to his upper left arm. A hard mad look came to his face. Then like a windmill in a wind storm he threw wild punch after punch as he pressed me. Back peddling to stay away from those big fists I covered up and caught several shots on my arms and they hurt. I could feel it down to my fingertips.

He slowed a bit and as I uncovered to retaliate I took a hard punch on the forehead. A red flash went off in my brain and I fell into Mr. Brown's arms and he held me up off the floor and shoved me toward Gregory who tried another roundhouse to my head.

I somehow blocked that hay maker with my left arm and that even hurt. If that punch had connected with its intended target that would have ended this little go round, here and now.

Recovering first I used my hand speed. With my right fist I hit him flush on his left ear. I moved to my right away from that huge right hand. I then pressed him again and I followed that with a long looping left to his right eye and then nailed him square on his left cheek.

Greg could really take a punch, although he was now back peddling and I was closing in. I faked two short lefts then a well-aimed right connected to his head, just back of his temple and I felt it to my spine. While he was still on his feet his eyes closed and he was out cold. When he hit the floor on his back, his head took another jolt, bouncing off the hardwood floor and he lay dead still. This worried me some for we were friends. I didn't like the way it sounded. Gregory could be hurt bad, really bad. "Lord, please watch over him."

As I stood watching, Michele slipped in beside him and cradled his head in her lap. Mr. Stevens, Michele's father brought her a cool wet rag and she washed his face and neck, wiping the blood away. To me it looked like Greg Howard was hurt really bad from that hard whack with the barn floor. A long ten minutes went by and he hadn't moved.

I began to get nervous. Greg's mother had taken Michele's place, on the barn floor, holding his head, and Mrs. Howard began to cry. This was her youngest boy. The favorite of both his ma and pa and you could see her loving...