Prayer
The year that Pa died, the air was so constantly fixed with dust that even those of us without evil-laden lungs couldn’t draw breath without a filtering rag between our chapped lips and the intolerable wind.
In those days, I still prayed to God. Mama told us how locusts, hunger and drought had been foretold—even happened before, in the bible times. Mama said it always happened when men grew too wicked. I knew loads of wicked men around us, like Bill Gowan, but I’m not sure if those were the ones Mama had in mind. […]