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8
Lizzie
Dallam County,Texas
1933
Dad didn’t come out of his room that night, and Mother retired to join him just as soon as she finished her meal.
I decided that Henry wouldn’t mind me raiding his stash of gin, so I let myself into his bedroom and retrieved the bottle from under his bed. When I heard the sound of the Model T returning, I met him on the porch.
“Hey, sis,” he greeted me. He took the bottle of gin out of my hand, opening it and downing a few generous gulps without preamble. He never did seem to notice the burn the way I did.
When he finished, he motioned toward our usual spot. We liked to sit a little ways from the house—just far enough from Mother and Dad’s bedroom that we could drink gin and stay up as late as we wanted. Once upon a time, our spot was covered in grass.
We perched ourselves on the low wooden chairs Henry made us one quiet winter. Just a slip of the moon was visible, which meant I could see more stars. I looked hopefully toward the barest wisp of cloud on the horizon and said a quick prayer that it might build to something. Beside me, Henry was drinking much more than he usually would.
“You went to see Betsy?”
“Nope,” he said abruptly. “Went to see Judge Nagle. I asked him if he’d lend us some money.” I felt a sharp pang at the thought of Henry begging his girl’s father to bail us out. “What choice do we have?” he argued. “We don’t know anyone else rich enough to help us, and we have to do something. Besides, he’s bought up half of Main Street in the last ten years. The man has more money than God. He may as well share some.”
“How would we even pay him back?” I said uncertainly.
“The same way we were going to pay the bank back—we sow a crop,” Henry said, shrugging.
“The bank would take the farm if we defaulted, right?” My brother nodded, and I said impatiently, “Well, Judge Nagle would do even worse! Do you really think he’d let you see Betsy if you let him down with a loan? Let alonemarryher?”
“He was never going to let me marry Betsy, Lizzie,” Henry said softly, heartache beneath the words. “He told me as much tonight. Said he likes me and that’s why he’s let me hang around, but he really should have put a stop to things a while back.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, stricken.
“The judge was never going to let his daughter marry a man who can’t even afford a telephone to call her.”
“So if you break up with Betsy, he’ll give you the money?” I said hesitantly. “That sounds like he’s bribing or blackmailing you.”
“It wasn’t like that at all—we just had an honest and, frankly, overdue conversation and came to an agreement. And he’s notgivingme the money—he’s lending it to me. We’ll be able to repay it next year when the harvest comes in.”
“But what if—” I started to ask.
But he cut me off, suddenly urgent and animated as he said, “Never in the history of the world has there been a drought that did not end. I looked it up at the library in Oakden a few weeks ago. Droughts come and go, yes. But theyalwaysend within a few years. We got a little rain a few weeks ago, remember?”
“It was less than a quarter of an inch!” I exclaimed.
“But that’s how it starts!” Henry said, bending forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t you see, Lizzie? The weather pattern changes slowly—a quarter inch here and there becomes half an inch becomes more and thenenough. Normal rain will be here before the winter is over.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
Henry took another gulping swill of the drink, then exhaled slowly.
“That’s why I asked for two years to pay it back. There’snochance the drought would last more than another year. Besides, if I am wrong, we were going to lose the farm anyway, so it makes no difference.” At my gasp, he shot me an impatient look. “What do you think happens when people don’t pay their property taxes, Lizzie?”
My stomach churned. I set my mug down in the dust and took a few deep breaths until it passed.
“How much did you borrow?”
“I know how much they’d have got for a harvest on a good year. That’s how much I borrowed.”
“But the farm has got to be worth much more than that.”
