OCR Text |
Show in my father's house/ 123 and the mud was inches deep. We spent the night in Dublan at Jack's; then he took us on to Los Parceles. The mud had dried into deep, hard ruts, and the truck lurched till we thought it would turn over. The little boys -- there were four Danny's age -- knelt on the floor and put their heads in my lap so that they wouldn't be thrown into the dashboard. A box of crackers kept hitting me in the back of the head every time the truck jolted and I got this awful headache. Some of us broke down and cried. Oh, we were miserable!" she declared, but her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, as though she had enjoyed that misadventure into Mexico. "We traveled through dust and sand all day, with nothing green but an occasional mesquite bush or a tall segura cactus like those out there. Finally we reached a little adobe in the middle of nowhere belonging to Maude LeBaron: she directed us to a big tent set up about a mile down the road. There we found your daddy, and were we ever glad to see him! But when we went into the tent -- which had nothing in it but a pick and shovel --he spread his arms out like it was a mansion and said, 'Welcome home!' Then Helga started to cry. Remember, Helga?" Aunt Helga shook her head. "I don't remember crying, but I know I couldn't bear the thought of spending the rest of my life in that place." My mother went on. "Maude called us to dinner at her house |