“I didn’t say rent it. I meant borrow it. Like you borrowed mine.” He swallowed and
looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. That wasn’t a good thing to say.”
Forbes glared at McCole’s corn in the ripening distance. All the farms in the region
were suffering from the drought, some worse than others. Some out of wisdom and hard work
had stored crops for themselves to weather them through this terrible time. McCole was one of
these.
But Forbes had done nothing. His combines were rusting. Weeds ruled his fields. It
angered them that even in this drought, other farmers were experiencing the joy that he had
lost. It was as if a scythe had come along out of the ground and wacked off the first half of his
face. He walked now with a soul and a limp and a lost hand that sucked at the air like a dying
fish for the food of the rain that had never shaken down.
“You’re dreaming the impossible dream,” went McCole. “The rain comes never the
way you want it. That thundershower didn’t come then, and it ain’t comin’ now. It moved on
out west. You were so sure it’d come before. You were so sure you were going to raise the
greatest crop this area of country had ever seen. But it came like you never thought it would,
didn’t you Forbes?” He looped his thumbs around his overalls. Kicked a clod of dirt that rol led
into Forbes’ bare ankle. He spit. “That’s about as much rain as you’ll ever see.”
He turned to the vast land of Forbes’ place, much bigger and better than his own,
stretching far to the west. He became angry. “I mean look at this ground. You’ve got th e most
fertile soil in the valley, and you’re pissing it away. The best land this side of the river and
nothin’s on it. If you ain’t gonna work it, sell off! I’ll pay.” He folded his arms self -consciously
and studied the sky and pumped his jaw, searching f or words. “It’s like you’re already dead.
Let him go.”
47
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