"Where's the rest of the kids?" Etta said as Betty and Thurber's mom, Phyllis helped her to the back bedroom. Alfred ran to the back door and yelled for the boys, Christian, Albert and Daniel. They were out at the barn throwing rocks at the scrawny birds who hoped to grab a bite from some of the equally scrawny chickens.

"Come in boys, it's gonna get bad out there. Storm a comin'".

The wind was starting to pick up and the air was heavy. It had a metallic kind of smell, the smell of burnt earth, dirt heated up by the sun, each little particle dancing in a roiling, ugly journey to the sea, to drown, never to be seen again. That was their legacy.

The boys ran in and immediately were handed some rags. They had to be put up against windows and doors, stuffed in as many cracks as possible otherwise the dust would win again. Everyone got busy and in the back bedroom you could hear Etta starting the ritual of birth.

It was SO hot in that house with no air coming in. Betty felt she might faint from lack of oxygen but they had to keep out the weather.

"Dad would it be better to go to the cellar? It's cooler down there. Mother is going to get way too hot up here. Can we move her?"

Alfred thought for a moment and then went to the bedroom to talk to the women. When he came back, he called all the folks together.

"It's a bit too late to move mom but I want the rest of you, except me, Betty and Phyllis to head to the cellar. There's candles down there and it's cooler. You will be fine 'til the storm passes and then I will come get you. James will be there to watch out for you, go, NOW."

With that the boys pulled the rags from around the back door and everyone, the grandmother, the small children, Thurber, Gretta, Willow, Christian, Albert, Daniel, and James ran out the back towards the cellar door. The wind had picked up and it was getting hard to see anything . The dirt hit them in the face and arms which stung like needles. They all knew it was going to be a big storm.

When everyone had gotten to the cellar safely and the solid wooden door was shut behind them, Alfred turned his attention to the back door again. He packed rags around it as best he could and checked the rest of the house. It didn't much matter though, dirt was filtering in from everywhere and the wind was beginning to howl outside.

Alfred looked at Betty and his heart broke. She was so frail, so tiny and yet had so much responsibility on her 10 year old shoulders. The older children were a big help but not like Betty, she had a maturity far beyond her years and she knew what it was like to be caught in a dust storm. Betty had been out in the pasture trying to get the old cow in the barn when one hit. The old cow saved her life. Betty grabbed the cow's tail and followed her back to the barn. The cow, Millie, had come in only by instinct but it proved miraculous for Betty who could not even see her hand in front of her face. Her family was waiting anxiously for the storm to be over so they could hunt for her. They found her in the barn curled up in a corner alive but wheezing from breathing in that fine silicate dust. It would be that way for her from then on and Betty became the house child, the one everyone depended on to help Mother, to keep the house in order, to be there for them and she was, always.

Betty and Alfred moved to the back bedroom where Etta was in labor. Phyllis was sitting by her side holding her hand. When they came in to the room Phyllis looked up at the two with a serious worried look that told them something was not quite right.

"How's it going, Mamma" although he already knew not well.

Phyllis looked at him again and said, "alfred, we need the Dr. The baby is not wanting to be born and Etta is almost ready to deliver."

"We can't leave just yet, Phyllis. The storm is raging right now and I know the old truck wouldn't make it. The dust would just choke the engine. How much longer do you think?"

"Past time."

Just then Etta who was pale and sweaty let out a pure instinctual sound, something they had not heard from her before.

"I need more water at least Alfred. Can you get me more water?"

Betty, who had been standing near the door spoke up for the first time,

"I can go get it Dad, you know I know my way around out there like the back of my hand".

"You'll get lost out there Betty. I can't let you go."

They both looked over at Etta, struggling now to even breathe, she was so weak. The wind howled outside like a pack of mad dogs and when Alfred turned back to Betty, she was gone. He knew that she was determined to do it for her mother, for her baby brother but he didn't want her be out there. Now he had two to worry about, no three, the new baby too.

Betty grabbed an old shirt from a hook hanging by the backdoor and removed the rags stuffed around the doorframe. She took an old tea towel and wrapped it around her mouth and nose. She could hear the sound of the wind trying to tear the house down, so angry, howling at its own inability to destroy and rip the land, knowing its time is brief but vicious in its attempt.

She took the old bucket in her hand and started to feel her way to the cistern. She knew this by heart, feel the back door and walk straight forward 20 steps, 20 Betty steps. Then turn to the left and walk another 30 steps. Betty steps. On the right hand is the lid to the cistern, an old wooden one ready to fall apart both from the weather and the hoppers eating it.

"Tie the rope to the handle of the bucket, lower it and get what water is available she thought." The wind tore at her legs and pulled at her dress. So angry was the wind it tried to pull her shirt off her shoulders. She could feel the dirt in her hair, it was getting under her face cover and into her mouth, her eyes, everywhere. She finally managed to pull up whatever water she could, not much and it would have to be boiled. Mom was running out of time and Betty was very afraid for her.

The wind was at her back going into the house and it almost threw her into the kitchen, so furious it was. Alfred was waiting for her and took the bucket, having already started a fire in the old stove. They were using cowpies to cook with because of the shortage of wood. He strained the water and put it on to boil while Betty shook the dirt from her hair, her clothes, her mouth, her eyes. There was nowhere that had been spared.

"Betty I need you to go sit with Mother. I'll be right in."

Alfred thought he heard someone at the back door. "Couldn't be, the kids are in the cellar. Nobody in their right mind is out in this stuff" he thought. "Must be the wind".

Again there was a banging at the door so Alfred undid the rags again and peered out to see what or who it was. It was Lloyd.