E. Doctorow - Welcome to Hard Times

There had to be an end to winter or an end to us. By the time March came in I was ready, like Isaac Maple, to bet with the winter. Hard dry winds blew day after day, sweeping the snow, skimming the top of the bared frozen ground and blowing up circly storms of sand. But one afternoon I thought I smelled rain. I went outside: John Bear was standing over by his shack, he was facing west and looking into the dusty bleak sky — he had smelled it too. The air was cold but the wind was just a murmur of what it had been, and if you stood very still you could feel now and then a warmth in it, a dampness. I kept my hopes to myself but that night I woke up and heard it, a soft fall on the roof, not a shower but a small steady rain. And at dawn the sun spread over the flats with a rush.

I stepped outside into that new morning and I couldn’t believe it. The sun filled my eyes with a warmth of hazes, pink, pale green and yellow, and all over the flats white mists were rising like winter being steamed out of the ground. I swore I could feel the earth turning. Everything was new in my sight, I looked around at the short street of buildings — cabin, windmill, saloon, tent and stable — and it seemed like a row of plants just sprung. The Chinese girl peeked out of the saloon, holding her hand up against the brilliance, and I waved to her. A few minutes later everyone was out of doors, blinking in the sunlight, standing silent in the face of something that was hard to remember. Then Jenks gave a hoot and threw his hat into the air and all of a sudden everyone was stretching, calling out, Zar went around hugging everybody, Adah was shaking Isaac Maple’s hand, the girls were kissing each other, Jimmy was holding Molly’s arm and pulling her this way and that. Jenks went into his stable and drove the horses out, there was much mingling, we were all smiling like fools, we were all pasty and thin in the fresh light but alive even so.

Now I would write about that spring in its every minute if I could, using up my strength and time and going no further through the pain of seasons. But it is no pleasure to me now; and it is all I can do to remember it for my purposes which is to tell the way things happened.

This was the time when Swede settled and Bert Albany came down, the hurts were healing in the warm sun and the expectations were nourished into life. A greenness of hopes grew up like the scrub along the rocks coming up green.

I remember another spring, much before, when I repped with an outfit that ranged along the Big Mo: how the river thawed with great groans and cracks, and the ice broke and rose in the air to be carried off in the surge, until the water had its full bed and was running swiftly from one bank to the other. It was a grand rout of winter. Well the change was just as sudden here, a bit of sun drew all the frost from our bones and the blood ran swift in our veins. Alf Moffet pulled in with his coach low on its springs for all the freight it carried, and the miners began to ride down again. They had been working most of the winter and they all had a hankering to spend some of their pay somewhere besides the company stores. In a couple of Saturday nights Isaac Maple forgot he’d been horse-traded, he and Zar, too, made enough to start bringing Alf back regular every two weeks. With my commission on their orders I made enough to buy up a stock of tinned food, coffee, sugar, flour, saleratus, beans and salt pork. And I’ll tell you we commenced to eat good.

Each morning and night Molly would do up a batch of pancakes and we dipped them in sugar and ate them rolled. We had beans and pork and maybe whole tomatoes from a can, and good black coffee to wash it all down. We ate till we couldn’t remember the taste of that horse, and it wasn’t long before the flesh filled in between the bones and we began to look human once more.

We were still ragged as Indians but with the sun rising higher each day the need for Hausenfield’s well rose too; and I fixed a price of a dollar a day for every person who drew from it. I was lucky with the windmill, I nailed the blades back up and fixed some loose boards in the scaffold and it worked fine, bringing the water up fresh and cool, bringing up the dollars. I went into Isaac’s tent one day and I walked out with a miner’s jacket and small-sized boots for Jimmy, laced shoes and calico for Molly, and a razor for myself.

I remember that alright. Straightaway I went over to the well, put those things down and found a rock to hone my new razor, and with the piece of lye soap there I shaved off my beard right down to the skin. I had not shaved since I lost my old razor in the fire, and it was something I had been itching to do ever since. Although like most I favor mustaches, I am not given to beards, I don’t like their feel nor the way the lice will take to them. When I was done — feeling slick as a calf — I took those things into the cabin and you should have seen the looks on their faces. Molly and the boy went into a proper reverence, I don’t know whether it was the new things or me. “Well look at that,” said Molly, smiling, and I think she meant me.

Jimmy was all smiles too — until Molly made up her mind he would have to wash himself before he could put the jacket and boots on. So he had to go outside and sit in the tub and while he did Molly took his pants and shirt and scrubbed them down in a pail of water. Later Miss Adah, always of a generous turn of mind, came out of the saloon and offered Molly a scissors. What surprised me was Molly took it, what surprised Jimmy was that she put it to his head. When he was all done, dressed in new boots and a jacket, and a clean dry shirt and pants, with some of his hair trimmed — well he was angry but he looked fine. “A proper boy,” Molly said, gazing at him.

Molly was fair to look on as she said that. Just the day before she had washed her hair and gone to sit up in the rocks aways to let the breeze dry it. She had handsome features for all the pockings, the frown was gone from her forehead and there was a softness in her face, a measure of joy in her eyes. I couldn’t grudge her hold on Jimmy, they were doing each other good, maybe giving each other a rest from the past, why should I have felt anything but glad?

All I am describing happened on an afternoon of deep gold sunlight over everything, with air that was sweet to breathe. Over by his shack John Bear was fooling with his garden. Jessie was working one too, she didn’t know and I wasn’t going to tell her that only the Indian could raise anything out of this ground. Smoke was coming up from Zar’s still behind his saloon. Away in the distance Zar and Jenks were running out their horses in big circles over the flats. There was a feeling of celebration in everything that was going on.

I went over to Jenks’s stable and looked over his horses one morning, it was not the boy’s feelings I had in mind, you just don’t like to be without something to ride. I liked the looks of the mule best of all, his ribs showed through his hide but he’d wintered better than the grey or the sorrel. Knowing my man I went to Jenks and told him I wanted to buy one of his horses. A sly look came into eyes and he told me he’d deal only for the mule. We settled on the sum of seventy-five dollars, to be paid in water rights at a dollar a day not including days of rain, if any. I took out the mule and brought him around to the cabin and hitched him to the buckboard. He stood there the best part of a day until Jimmy wandered over like he didn’t care, and hefted the reins like it didn’t mean anything and finally stepped up on the seat and gave him a try in the flats.

It gladdened me to see him romp off that way. Pretty soon he came back in but it was just to pull Molly, protesting, up on the seat; and then there they were spinning away, she laughing and holding on tight and Jimmy shouting in a cracked voice, standing up and flipping those reins and getting more and more run out of the mule. I went about my business and it seems now just a moment before I turned around and they were hardly in view. They had made circles further and further out but all I saw was a funnel of dust going down in a straight line. Where were they going? For a moment my breath stopped, I thought well goodbye to them, it serves me right, they’re gone and she’s still laughing.