trees. We’ll swim in rivers. Raise Pod as our own. You could keep a little library. We could even marry if we wanted to.”
Temple lets out a long sigh. “Oh, that sounds fine, Everett. Truly. Except I tried that once, and matrimony is a grave I won’t be buried in again. Besides, this farm isn’t dead quite yet, and these dunces will run it into the ground without me. It’s a sturdy house,” she says. “I expect to be carried out of it.”
“Then I’ll come back,” he says. “After things cool down.”
“And what about McSorley?”
“He’ll lose interest eventually. With the Crash, there’s no shortage of fugitives for him to hunt. We could claim the baby is ours.”
Her face hardens. “I’m not looking for a child, Everett.” This she says in a tone normally reserved for loafing farmhands. “There are women who are mothers and there are those who aren’t.”
“You wouldn’t need to lift a finger in her direction,” he says, almost pleading. “I’m practised at caring for her now. Someday she could be climbing those maple trees we planted out there on the lot line.”
“This is no place for a child and that’s final,” Temple snaps, and Everett shuts his mouth.
They lie for a while. Dust scrapes the window. Everett starts to speak a few times and fails. He scrubs his rough hand over his face.
“Temple,” he says.
“Umhmm,” she says, half asleep.
“If you can’t go with us, and you can’t have us here, it looks like there isn’t much future between us.”
“If you cut it that way, Everett, then I suppose not.”
“Then how about I come back here and bother you. I mean, once I’ve raised her and all this is over. With no expectations or anything. Just to come and visit you. Maybe I’ll take you to a moving picture in town.”
“I’d like that, Everett. I’ll be here, I imagine. Still setting the table out on that porch. Still shovelling out my damn house.” Then she gets a sad expression. “Except people don’t come back to a place like this if they don’t need to. And you don’t strike me as the type who’ll need to.”
“Well, I will. I swear it.”
She taps the pad of her index finger twice on his forehead. “It’s sweet of you to say. You won’t. But it’s real nice to hear it.”
FLYING OFF ON YOU
AT BREAKFAST ON Sunday morning, they roar up the access road, dragging corkscrews of dust behind them, fine as confectioner’s sugar. Temple is out back, beating the laundry with a broom handle before she takes it in, when she sights the three squad cars—and several private automobiles, owned by men from Estevan who’ve ridden along more to gawk than assist.
They pull up to the barn and Detective McSorley bursts from the car, ordering his men to surround the structure and padlock its doors. The detective is nearly rabid when Temple reaches him, his tie flying horizontally in the stiff gusts, and there’s a gerbilish, insomniac cast to his eyes. “I’ve got it from a good source that a vagrant is keeping a baby here, Temple,” he says, pointing a thick finger at her face.
“Oh horseshit, Detective. What source?” she says indignantly. “Looks to me like the Estevan rumour mill has kicked into full gear now that it’s nearly harvest time and there’s nothing to harvest but gossip.” She casts a quick glance back to the house to confirm that Everett isn’t visible.
“I’ve had enough of your mouth,” McSorley snaps. “Some of your resident drunks took another dip in the water tower last night. But this time I had a man posted there. And when they were caught, to save their skins they swore that there’s a baby girl staying here, and has been for nearly three weeks. Living in the care of a tramp who goes by the name Everett.”
She has to fight against taking a quick, gulping breath. How could this be? She hadn’t made the mistake again of paying her men on a Friday, and she doubts any of them have money left over from the previous payday. She glares at the filthy faces that peer down from the hayloft’s high outswing doors—but she’ll have to deal with them later. Right now, Everett and Pod need a head start.
“Well, you heard wrong,” she barks. She’s always masked her deceits with outrage—it’s a trick her father taught her. “The only infant currently on these premises is standing right in front of me. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t