Paulette Jiles - Stormy Weather

When her father was young, he was known to be

He brought her with him down to the blacksmith shop

They shifted out to the Permian Basin in far West

They were photographs that people took of one another with

At a race outside of Conroe they made the immense

At the time when Jack Stoddard was felled by sour

A week passed. Jeanines mother waited up until late into

Mrs. Joplin ran the store at Strawns Crossroads, a mile from

At Strawns store they received a message from Mineral Wells;

At the farmers market four children and a young mother

Abel Crowser got up stiffly out of his chair and

Elizabeth drove out of Mineral Wells, on State Highway 66,

It was as if he were pulling the calf out

Jeanine sat in Abel and Alice Crowsers kitchen and laid

Prince Albert sat on the old well curb and made

The nurses helped them load Bea in the back of

The next morning very early Mayme opened the cookstove door

He drove his truck and trailer at top speed, the

After a long time he went into the house and

Bea dreamed that they were sawing her leg off. Her

The day before Christmas, Abel Crowser appeared at the door

In late January Milton left a telephone message for Jeanine

The newspaper came. A subscription, a gift from Milton. It

Martha Jane Armstrong was twenty years old with bright red

Mrs. Joplin wrote down the occurrence of Jack Stoddards death in

The gang of cedar choppers came rattling down the road

At breakfast they looked out at the ridges to the

Mayme said, Mother, go talk to Violet and Joe about

Cap and the men lived like trolls in the engine

Tarrants streets were full on a hot Saturday evening. Jeanine

The stores and offices on the main streets of Tarrant

It was toward the end of July that they got

Jeanine carried the kitchen table out to the veranda by

The skies in the summer of 1938 were gravid with

Ross and Jeanine drove out onto Highway 84 south of

Jugs and Innis sat on the two beds of the

At four oclock on the blazing hot afternoon of September

W hen her father was young, he was known to be a hand with horses. They said he could get any wage he asked for, that he could take on any job of freighting even in the fall when the rains were heavy and the oil field pipe had to be hauled over unpaved roads, when the mud was the color of solder and cased the wheel spokes. The reins were telegraph lines through which he spoke to his horses in a silent code, and it seemed to Jeanine that her fathers battered hands held great powers in charge. He could drive through clouds or floods. During the early oil strikes in Central Texas he was once paid $1,250 to drive a sixteen-mule team hauling a massive oil field boiler from McAllister, Oklahoma, to Cisco, Texas. He got it across the Red River Bridge and through the bogged roads of North Texas without losing a mule or a spoke or a bolt.

Jeanine sat beside him on the wagon seat and watched the horses plunge along. They were buoyant, as if they were filled with helium. This particular morning his hands shook when he rolled a cigarette because the night before he had been drinking the brutal intoxicating mixtures that were sold because the Volstead Act was still in effect that year, 1924. After an hour they came to the oil field and her father told her to stay in the crisscross shadow of the derrick until he got his deal done because he and the foreman were probably going to sit around and talk and cuss for a while. You cant step past those shadows, there. Dont go playing around the horses feet. Here, read this comic book. She sat and read from panel to panel as Texas Slim shot his way through the saloon doors on his horse Loco. She couldnt keep her mind on it and so she walked the shadows of the derrick and pretended they were dark roads leading her away to distant countries like Mars and Boston and Oklahoma.

Her father talked with the driller about pipe to be hauled and how much a load and how many loads. The driller needed casing pipe, and casing pipe weighed more than drill stem so her father was trying to get paid by weight as well as by the load. After they had agreed and shook hands, he stood up carefully to balance his enormous beating head on his shoulders and called out, Jeanine, come on, weve got to go.

Jeanine came to stand against her fathers knees. All the machinery was still. The oil had been found and was being held below their feet, dark and explosive, until the crew would let it up through the casing pipe.

She said, Let me drive the horses. Jeanine had a low voice and it made her sound like an immature blond dwarf.

Her father patted her heavily on top of her head. Youre too little to drive.

But I want to play Ben-Hur.

He smiled. You cant be Ben-Hur, honey, youre a girl.

The week before they had gone to see the movie star Raymond Navarro playing Ben-Hur in a toga, in screenland black and white, ripping around the arena at a suicidal speed, lashing a whip.

Yeah, but he was wearing a dress, and Im the one thats got the pants on.

Her father laughed and held his head. Jeanine was so relieved that her own laughter had a frantic sound and tears came to her eyes. The driller thought it was funny as well and he repeated it to the crew several times over and even after a week the driller could be heard to say Dont mess with me, boys, Im the one thats got the pants on.

They started home. They lived in half of a rent house in Ranger, where they had moved as soon as there was word of an oil strike. Before that they seemed to have lived on the old Tolliver farm, but Jeanine was too young to remember it. Her fathers strong hands were scarred, they had been knocked around by everything, by engine cranks and coffin hoists and the wagon jack. His cloth cap barely shaded his bloodshot eyes. All round them the horizon shifted from one red stone layer to another and down these slopes spilled live oak and Spanish oak and mesquite, wild grape and persimmon. Alongside the road were things people threw out of cars and wagons. A baby doll head lay under a dense blackbrush and seemed to watch as the hooves of the team went past. There were tin cans and mottled rags and lard pails and tiny squares of broken safety glass.

He reached under the seat and took out his bottle.

If I have a drink now shell never know by the time we get home. He took a quick drink and then handed the bottle to her. Hide that for me.

Jeanine kneeled down and found the feed bags under the seat and stuffed the bottle in one of them and sat back on the seat again. She leaned against him. During the tormented shouting of the night before, Jeanine and her sister knew these were noises of pain. Their parents needed comfort.

I love you, she said.

Youll be mad at me too someday, Jenny, he said. Before the world is done with me.

But how come you threw the album out the front door?

Because the sewing machine was too heavy.

The photographs of herself and her sister Mayme tumbled down the steps like playing cards, like the doll head, discarded. Her mother and fathers wedding portrait spun into the dirt. Jeanine and her sister Mayme picked them all up and carefully pasted them back into the album. Before long her mother and father would kiss each other. After that her father would be paid and they would buy a case of Lithiated Lemon soda and a radio and a racehorse.