The family that slowly made their way to the old house was known to Betty. When she went to school, it was with Thurber who was in a grade above her. It was a one-room schoolhouse, all of the grades studied together. Thurber was a nice young man about 11 years of age and Betty liked his quiet manner, old beyond his years. He also never teased her about her epilepsy.

Alfred met them at the gate as they were slowly stepping down from their rickety truck piled high with all their worldly treasures. There were six of them, three adults and three children.

"Hey folks, come on in and sit a spell. We were just about to put the coffeepot on. Sure didn't know you was movin'. Sorry to see you leave, come on in, it's getting hot already."

The six of them, husband James, wife Phyllis, Thurber, two nondescript little ones with runny noses and dirty clothes and an elderly lady came shuffling in to the main room and sat down at the beat up, claw-footed oak table.

"Where you headed James? Where do you think you can go to find work, a place to live?"
James, a small, gaunt man who looked much older than his 30 or so years sat quietly, head bowed and thought for a moment.

"Don't know Alfred. Out west I guess. We'll look for work along the way. We got three good hands, me, Mom and Thurber. We'll get by. Ain't nothin' here for us." He slumped into the old wooden chair, took a deep breath and said, "They got our house, the land, everything. They're gonna auction our place off. We gotta move."

They had just begun their journey and were already hungry. Betty's heart broke for them but she was too young to really express her feelings. She went to the kitchen and Phyllis followed her to help. There were just six eggs this morning and half a loaf of bread Betty had baked the day before. That meant she would have to bake more today but at the moment she felt a rush of relief that they still had some flour and starter. She put kindling in the old stove which made the kitchen hotter than blazes and made Mamma move to the large room. Phyllis stayed to help her.

"We have a little milk left. Maybe the babies would like some."

Phyllis said in a quiet voice "they would love that. Haven't had any in a few days now, since the old milk cow died. I guess it's goin' on a week."

Betty took the milk out to the two toddlers who drank it quickly then came back to get the dishes to set the big oak table. They ate until it was gone, hardly looking up. After their meal the little ones fell asleep on the floor and the grownups sat drinking a cup of coffee.

"James," ventured Alfred, "I don't know what's out there but it ain't good. Are you sure you should go? I mean do you have any money? Do you have any idea where you're goin?"

"We managed to sell a few things and we got almost $7.00 for the stuff so we got a little money for gas. All I know is we can't stay here. Our cow died last week, we had to eat our old chickens and you know this drought is a killer. Not much rain, nothin' here Alfred. Then there's always the black blizzards."

"Heading West ain't the answer, James. Maybe I could give you a couple fertile eggs to hatch and help with the milk 'til you get back on yer feet. You won't get far with what you got."

Alfred looked out the front door towards the West and the sky was turning an ugly grey, orange color. He knew what that meant, dirt and wind like a giant furious bull pawing the parched earth snorting and blowing and running over everything in its path. There was no stopping it and it was coming. Again.

Alfred was thoughtful for a moment with that wiser than his age look. He was not an old man but the SD prairie he chose to homestead was trying to belch him out too. It took its toll on all who would presume to tame it.

Thurber and Betty walked out into the yard and stood looking to the west.

"What do you think Thurber, is the weather gonna be bad?"

Betty could feel it in her slight, thin little body. The air hung heavy and it was far too quiet, even the very slight breeze stopped to catch sight of what was now looming in the distance. The two girls came up from the root cellar where they had been cutting up a Montgomery Wards' catalog to make paper dolls. Betty did not play, she had her chores and Mother needed help all the time now. The baby was due anytime and it was going to be a big one. All of her babies were big but this one was different. Mother felt ill the whole time she was pregnant and could hardly manage even the simplest things. It was exhausting for her to even walk. Even when Betty wasn't in the same room, she could hear her mother groaning under the strain of another baby in a time when babies were not so much a joy as a burden.

"Hi Thurber, what're you doin' here?" asked Gretta. A smaller version of Betty.

Betty felt a little angry that both the girls had not even known about the company until all the hard work was done but then her resentment flew away like the old crow on its way to greener parts. She was always protective of her sisters in a motherly way.

"Hi Grtta, we're movin' today. Ain't stayin here not one more day."

"Why Thurber, I thought you liked it here."

"Naw, it's no good here. We're goin' West to California maybe or Washington or Oregon. There's jobs and good food and money to be had out West."

He did not sound very convincing.


From inside the house came the sound of some kind of commotion. Thurber, Betty, Gretta and Willow ran in to see what was going on. Sitting on a chair was Mother and she was in labor.

Etta whispered more to herself than anyone, "not yet, I ain't ready for this baby".

The sky took on an ugly, ominous color, the color of dried earth on the move. They were getting a storm and another mouth to feed. But come hades or high water, both were on the way.