The Four Winds

Clop-clop-clop down Main Street. Only two automobiles were parked out here. Both belonged to bankers. Banksters, they were called these days, for the way they cheated hardworking folk out of their land and then went bust and closed their doors, keeping the money people had thought was safe.

Grandpa maneuvered the horse and wagon up to the schoolhouse and parked.

Loreda heard music wafting through the open doors and the sound of stomping feet. She launched herself out of the wagon and hurried to the schoolhouse.

Inside, the party was on. A makeshift band played in the corner and a few couples were dancing.

Off to the right were the food tables. There wasn’t a lot of food out, but after the years of drought, Loreda knew it was a feast the women had worried and slaved over.

“Loreda!”

Loreda saw Stella moving toward her. As usual, Stella and her younger sister, Sophia, were the only girls in the room in pretty new party dresses.

Loreda felt a pinch of jealousy and put it aside. Stella was her best friend. Who cared about dresses?

Loreda and Stella came together as they always did, grasping hands, heads tilted together.

“Say, what’s the story, morning glory?” Loreda said, trying to sound in the know.

“I’m behind the grind, don’tcha know?” Stella answered.

Stella’s parents came up behind the girls, stopped to talk to the Martinellis.

Loreda heard Mr. Devereaux say, “I got another postcard from my brother-in-law. There’s railroad work in Oregon. You should think about it, Tony. Rafe.”

Like women had no opinions.

And her grandfather’s reply: “I don’t blame nobody for leaving, Ralph, but it ain’t for us. This land…”

Not that again. The land.

Loreda pulled Stella away from the grown-ups.

Ant ran past them, wearing a gas mask that made him look like an insect. He bumped into Loreda and giggled and ran away again, arms outstretched as if he were flying.

“The Red Cross donated a big box of gas masks to the bank—for the kids to wear during dust storms. My mom is handing ’em out tonight.”

“Gas masks,” Loreda said, shaking her head. “Jeepers.”

“It’s getting worse, my dad says.”

“We are not talking about gas masks. This is a party, for gosh sakes,” Loreda said. She reached out, took hold of Stella’s hands. “My mom said you can spend the night tonight. I got some magazines from the library. There’s a picture of Clark Gable that will make you swoon.”

Stella pulled back, looked away.

“What’s wrong?”

“The bank is closing,” Stella said.

“Oh.”

“My uncle Jimmy—the one in Portland, Oregon? He sent my dad a postcard. He reckons the railroad is hiring, and there’s no dust storms out there.”

Loreda took a step back. She didn’t want to hear what was coming.

“We’re leaving.”

NINE