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CHAPTER 35

Dust Storm

      THE MONDAY before Valentine's Day started with a blustery, brown morning that promised a dust-storm by noon.

      As soon as Lucy got up she hurried the day's load of diapers and baby clothes into the washing machine even before she put the water on for coffee.

      She liked to get an early start because there was frequently a little delay, talking to Mrs. Panadero when she arrived at four — asking after her many grandchildren, and telling her whether anything special needed to be done for Uncle Bob that evening.

      Uncle Bob had become so helpless that Lucy and Mrs. Panadero now had to do everything for him: feed him his meals, help him change pajamas, and lead him back and forth to the bathroom.

      Someone even had to help him with his bath. Mrs. Panadero did that, and Lucy was especially grateful for it, because that was one thing she could hardly bring herself to do for him.

      By the time Bobby came down that Monday, the wash was hung, the table was set, and Lucy was making toast and eggs.

      "Well, I hope you women are satisfied," he said, sitting down. "The whole county's coming to your party."

      Lucy poured his coffee. "They better! We ordered enough beer to fill a swimming pool — and there'll be chili to feed an army."

      "Listen Lucy," Bobby began buttering toast. "I want you to do something for me . . . will you?"

      "I guess."

      "You know, with Normalade's being there at nights, I never get to see Swan much. So could you suggest, just casually, that she and I dance a couple of times? Because of her being a sister-in-law and all? And let Normalade hear you say it?"

      Lucy put the plate of eggs on the table. "Bobby, you'd be playing with fire, dancing with Swan right under Normalade's nose."

      "There's nothing going on now."

      It made Lucy furious for Bobby to lie. "Well it's not my business to say so," she said sharply, "But I'm not fool enough to believe that."

      "I'm telling you the truth. Since I came back home, I never see her except at work, and I haven't touched her once. And it's about to kill me!"

      "Oh, come on Bobby. You even went off together and made me close up."

      He looked up. "You mean right after New Years? No, all we did that night was talk. We went over and sat on her steps in the dark, and just discussed things. She wouldn't even let me hold her hand. "

      He began to stir the uneaten eggs with his fork. "I'd made up my mind to something that night. I'd decided I couldn't stand living here with Normalade and having to be with her and all. So I put it to Swan that we should run off together, just take off then and there, and go live in El Paso or Dallas or somewhere. Just the two of us."

      "Bobby, how could you!"

      "Well, I would have. I'd do it today, if she'd have me." He looked at Lucy with his eyes full of trouble. "Only she refused. Said it would be wrong for us to be together any more, and she laid down the law. Said I had to look after my wife and baby and be a good husband and father."

      "She said what was right, Bobby."

      "I know," he answered grimly. "And she said that even though she couldn't help the way she felt, she would never take little Bobby's father away from him. She was going to leave me again, Lucy. She was crying the whole time she said it, but even so, she was going to go away that same night, if I pressed her."

      "But then she didn't," Lucy whispered. Hearing all this made her chest hurt.

      "Because I wouldn't let her," he said wretchedly. "I couldn't keep on if I couldn't see her any more. We sat there talking about it until almost daylight, and we finally agreed that from now on, we'd try to just be friends."

      He picked up his fork, then put it down again. "Just friends. Fat chance of that! When every word she said just made me love her more."

      "Oh Bobby . . ."

      "I've tried, Sis, but I don't know how long I keep on like this. And Swan's miserable, and I don't guess even Normalade feels any too good now — but I don't see any way out of it. Do you?"

      "No I don't, Bobby."

      Bobby sighed, and shook his head. Then he finished his coffee and stood up. "Well, I'm going. Tell Normalade I'll see her later."

      "She'll be mad if you're not here when she gets up."

      "I have to work on the truck today. Clive said to bring it by first thing, and he'd look at it with me."

      Lucy glanced at him. He looked so innocent as he said it, why did she doubt him?

      While Lucy did the dishes, she thought about the work she had ahead of her. In addition to laundry and regular cleaning, the kitchen floor needed scrubbing. And she had to clean the stove, because Normalade had been scorching chilies on the burner last night.

      The coffee was still hot. She got out a clean mug and put two spoons of sugar in it and stowed it in her apron pocket. Then she buttered up half a dozen pieces of toast and wrapped them in a paper napkin, and, with the toast in one hand and the pot of hot coffee in the other, she headed down the back steps and across the yard.

      Shark was still living in the barn, and it had finally dawned on Lucy that the only meals he ever ate were those he took at Cowboy Bob's. She'd offered to feed him breakfast in the kitchen, but he always shook his head, saying it wasn't right to take what he hadn't earned — so she'd gotten into the sneaky habit of bringing him coffee in the mornings.

      "Morning, Shark." Lucy put the coffee pot and the toast down on the bed of the old pickup. She took the mug from her pocket, poured coffee into it, and offered it to him.

      He took a big slug. "Nice of you to do this."

      "No trouble. I make a pot every morning. Try that toast, too."

      As he drank his coffee, she leaned against the side of the pickup. "Well, Wednesday's the day."

      "It's today I care about — because Brother's coming." He crunched down the first piece of toast.

      "What time will they get here?" she asked.

      "Around eleven — he knows what time I go to work."

      "I'll have lunch ready for them about eleven-thirty then." She topped off Shark's coffee and headed back to the house to make Uncle Bob's breakfast.

      When Uncle Bob was up and washed, Lucy sat him in his chair by the window and brought his tray. And when he made no move to feed himself, she perched on the edge of the bed, took up his fork and offered him a bite of scrambled egg.

      As he chewed, she told him again about Gallatin and the band coming to play for the dance.

      "Shark's really happy that his brother's coming," she said, sending another forkful toward Uncle Bob's mouth.

      Although he seemed to be looking at the wall behind her, he opened obediently.

      "They're going to be here three nights," Lucy continued. "They'll sleep in the barn, like you said Shark could do." She'd finally decided that if she continued behaving as if everything were normal, he was more likely to become normal again. It hadn't worked yet, but it still might.

      "You remember, Uncle Bob? You're the one who said Shark and his brother could sleep there, long as they didn't make a nuisance of themselves." She put the cup of milk to his lips, and he yielded to the rim of it and took a swallow.

      "It would be nice if you felt chipper enough to come and hear them play." Lucy offered him a bite of toast but he wouldn't open up for it, so she went back to the egg. "You think you might want to come with us for a little bit on Wednesday?"

      Every once in a while, she'd sneak in a question like that, hoping to surprise an answer out of him. But he never fell for it.

      Not this time either.

      His toast was untouched, but at least he'd had some egg and a little milk, so Lucy was satisfied. She wiped his mouth with a warm washrag. And his hands, although he hadn't used them at all. Then she smoothed out his covers and his pillow and put him back in bed.

      "Now I'm going to do some cleaning, but I'll be back with the papers when the mail comes. If you need me before that, just call me."

      The rest of the morning went quickly. She cleaned the kitchen and brought in the clothes off the line and folded them all. And by the time Normalade came downstairs with little Bobby, she'd also scrubbed the kitchen floor. She skipped the dusting, though, because the wind was moving hard around the house now, the air smelled of dust, and the air was full of static electricity.

      After making breakfast for Normalade, Lucy played with the baby while Normalade took her bath. Then, while Normalade was watching TV and curling her hair, Lucy slipped into the bathroom herself and took her shower and washed her own hair. Then she cleaned the bathroom.

      The morning was almost over by the time the mail came. Lucy went out and said hello to Mr. Grosbeck. Then she took the papers to Uncle Bob and read him the headlines before starting lunch.

      Twelve o'clock came and went, and it was well past the time Shark had expected them, but there was nothing in sight along Old Trail Road. Lucy began frankly listening for a car, but as the wind rose higher, making the air electric and uneasy, the lunches she had made sat untouched on the table.

      Shark came to the back door, looking unhappy. "Don't know what's keeping them," he said. "I guess I ought to go on to work."

      "Wait a while longer," Lucy said. "I'll make it right with Gene if he says anything."

      The sky was now brown and dirty-looking. Wind-driven dust buffeted the house until it shuddered as if a heavy animal had brushed against it.

      Lucy tried to feed Uncle Bob again, but he ate nothing. Normalade took sandwiches in front of the TV and painted her nails. The wind, sliding past the door frame, caused the weatherstripping to moan like someone in pain.

      By one-thirty, Shark was behaving like a lost soul. Finally he came and sat on the front steps where he could watch the road. Lucy could see him through the window as she passed back and forth in the front room. His hair and beard would be full of brown grit by now, she thought. She could taste it and smell it in her own clothes, even indoors.

      But then, a few minutes before two, he called in through the door, "I see the van — he's coming!"

      Normalade was applying nail polish coat number three, and she hardly looked up when Lucy went to put the water on for coffee. But now — certainly it was due to the electricity in the air — Lucy was more jittery than ever. She reset the table, and then, as nobody came in, she went out to see what was happening.

      They were all standing around in the barn, and Gallatin was leaning against the van, talking to Shark.

      She stood a minute and watched them. Gallatin looked . . . well, he looked really good!

      But when she got a good look at the rest of the band, she began to feel concerned. Because there was nobody with him but a couple of pimply teen-age boys with guitars slung over their shoulders and a small, aging Hispanic man holding a fiddle.

      As soon as they saw her they broke off and Shark introduced everybody. The small man's name was Raton, and the boys were named Fred and Ferd. Lucy was not quite clear which one was which, because they looked very much alike, and they were both very seedy, with strangely-cut hair and frayed collars. One of them had a ring in his eyebrow, and the other had one in his lip. Each was chewing a wad of gum, which he never discarded, even later, when they ate lunch.

      When introduced, Fred and Ferd only nodded and cracked their gum, but the little fiddle-player bowed over Lucy's hand and said, "Mucho Gusto, Patrona."

      At that, Lucy felt uneasy still. Nobody used that word to their employers up here. Which meant he must be right out of Mexico, and she wasn't sure how the customers at Cowboy Bob's would take to Mexican mariachi fiddle playing.

      What should she do? Their looks were not going to sit well with the people around here, and it would be a real problem if they played some terrible kind of music that nobody could dance to; it could spoil everything. Maybe she should've stuck with the juke box after all.

      But since lunch was already waiting, she invited them to come into the kitchen to eat, Shark with the others.

      By the time they'd finished eating, Lucy had decided what to do; she'd wait and see what happened. This was only Monday, after all. If they played badly tonight, she'd pay them off and no harm done.

      By the time lunch was over and the kitchen was cleaned up, it was four-thirty, and Mrs. Panadero had arrived. And since it was time to leave for Cowboy Bob's anyway, and Bobby had never returned with the pickup, Lucy said she'd drive over with the band and show them the way.

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