![]() ![]() “Mackay land.” His eyes had shone with the wonder of it. “This here’s the first thing our family’s ever owned in this country,” he’d said, showing Sally the dark soil between his fingers. This was in the early years, when folks still thought next year would bring the rains back. To lose your land was to lose yourself, her father had warned her and Ben. ![]() They told tales of Hoover camps, the shame of being spat on by city-dwellers. Many who went there came home poorer than before. Better still, Ma said, would be to head out to California, where there was still work to be had. If Ben were to move, Ma said it would be to her sister’s place in Topeka, away from the land that was killing him. But what could be done? The dust-lung had him. At fourteen, he was taller than Sally and better at reaching the upper cracks. Ben watched from the bed, his feverish eyes glistening. Sally followed Ma ’round the dugout, stuffing rags into the cracks where the dust had trickled through. But when she asked, Ma said, “Jaisus, quit nattering and help the bairn.” So Sally did, even though her baby brother was curled up like the calf had been, under a skin of dust that never went away no matter how they cleaned. She wondered how much dirt was in her stomach and whether her body was already full of it, like the calf, her tears and blood just rivers of dust. The Vaseline in her nostrils couldn’t keep it out. Sally cried, or would have cried, but her face was too caked with dirt. Later he slit the calf open and showed Sally the animal’s stomach, choked with dust. He cracked the hammer on its head-a sick, sad sound. Ma wanted to hold off, give the poor thing a chance, but Pa said it were cruel to let a body live like that. ![]()
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