Swain Clatchee Gets Set Up
by Charles C. Cole
It was the weekly cribbage night at old Doc Buckle’s. Doc and Miss Mamie, both closer to 80 than 70, were a consistently formidable home team. It was getting harder for Swain Clatchee, Miss Mamie’s tenant, to find someone from their small community to partner with for the expected drubbing.
In fact, Swain had strongly hinted to Miss Mamie earlier in the week that maybe, this once, they might try their hand at 3-player cribbage, every man for himself. But Miss Mamie liked her traditions. Miss Mamie had simply responded: “You bring yourself. We’ll take care of the rest.”
The smell of fresh baked pie greeted Swain as he knocked on the front door. The door was ajar. An invitation or an oversight? “Doc? Miss Mamie? It’s Swain. Ready or not, here I come.”
The dapper host and his “girl Friday” were not to be seen. The dining table, rather than being set with cards and cribbage board, had a nice white tablecloth with fine-China coffee cups, matching saucers and dessert plates.
“Guess they’ve given up,” mumbled Swain. Several footsteps approached down the backstairs. Doc and Miss Mamie were dressed in their Sunday best. “Y’all didn’t have to get gussied up for me.”
Doc and Miss Mamie led the way, followed by a pretty flower not known to thrive in these parts, a woman of about Swain’s age.
Doc made the introductions: “We were giving our guest the cook’s tour. Althea, this is Swain. Swain, this is Althea. Althea’s my cousin Hazen’s granddaughter. She dropped by to deliver some knickknacks and letters that once belonged to my mother.”
Althea, the pale maiden with the long red hair, extended her small soft hand. “How do you do?”
Swain accepted Althea’s warm touch and felt something like a jolt at the top of his spine, just above his shoulder blades. Swain, the reader should know, was at the time a very single man in his late twenties who had not dated in months and had, until this moment, no real prospects.
“Happy to make your acquaintance,” said Swain.
Miss Mamie slid her arm around Doc’s waist affectionately and smiled. “We thought we’d skip cribbage and just visit a spell. Are you game?”
The older folk spoke of the enduring community of Tweezer Township and their fondness for their neighbors. Althea talked about the goings-on of extended family and reinserting herself after college. Swain nodded and smiled, a lot.
Althea talked with her hands, and there were times when Swain wanted to pull them from the air if only to give them a much-needed rest.
Some time later, while Miss Mamie excused herself to wash the dirty dishes and Doc stepped outside to enjoy his pipe, Swain and Althea found themselves alone for the first time that evening. Miss Mamie started humming busily from the kitchen.
Althea arched an accusing eyebrow in Swain’s direction. “Swain Clatchee, did you know I was coming tonight?”
“News to me.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Are we being set up?” she asked.
“Only if we go along with it.”
“You haven’t said two words all night. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” said Althea.
“I believe,” said Swain, “it was Abraham Lincoln who said, ’Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.’ Honestly, I just came to play cards, but I think I’m the one who got played.”
“Not by me.” Althea didn’t like the insinuation.
“I didn’t mean... Maybe I should go before I say something I’ll regret.” Swain stood and looked around for his coat, which was behind him, on the chair he was sitting in. Althea pointed it out. “Thank you.”
Althea stood, stepped behind Swain, and helped him put his coat on. The gesture felt natural and welcomed. Althea adjusted his collar. “I think you’re forgetting something,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“My number, I mean, if you ever want to call me, that is, if you don’t feel too set up.”
“I would like very much to call you if you don’t mind. We can get together, just the two of us, and I’ll talk all about me, enough to bore you to tears.”
“That sounds delightful,” said Althea. “I look forward to it.”
“I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment; I was caught off-guard. And everybody else had plenty to say. I especially liked listening to you. You have a beautiful way with words.”
“Thank you,” said Althea.
“I feel like I came in a stranger and I’m leaving a stranger,” said Swain.
“Not to worry. They talked about you a lot from the moment I arrived. Must have known you’d be intimidated.”
“Not intimidated,” said Swain. “More like gobsmacked. Do people still say gobsmacked?”
“You just did.”
“I’m gonna leave now,” said Swain. “But I feel I have to ask: Do you play cribbage?”
“I love it!” said Althea. “I’m the best player in the family.”
Swain gave Althea’s nearest hand a quick squeeze. “Give my best to Miss Mamie. I’ll see myself out. I look forward to talking some more real soon.” And with that, Swain’s life took an unexpected and most pleasant turn for the better.
Copyright © 2024 by Charles C. Cole
