The Four Winds(99)

“Follow me. I’m in that truck.”

Elsa walked with her children to their own muddy truck and climbed in. The truck bed held the few goods and belongings they’d never unpacked; things they didn’t need in this broken-down version of their life.

As they headed north following Jack, storm damage was evident everywhere; splintered, fallen trees, rocks and rubble in the street, slumps of land that covered roadways. Water in gullies, in puddles, in falls by the street.

People walked in a steady stream along the side of the road, carrying whatever they had left.

They passed another ditch-bank camp that was destroyed. A sea of mud and belongings, but already people were slogging back onto the wet land, digging through the mud and standing water for their belongings.

At a sign that read WELTY FARMS, Jack pulled over to the side of the road and parked. Elsa did the same. He walked over to her side of the truck. She rolled down the window.

“This is Welty’s camp. He houses some pickers here. I heard that a family left yesterday.”

“Why would a family leave?”

“Someone died,” he said. “Tell the man at the guardhouse that Grant sent you.”

“Who is Grant?”

“A boss. He drinks too much to remember who uses his name.”

“Will you come with us?”

“I’ve got a bad reputation around here. They don’t like my ideas.” He flashed her a smile and walked back to his own truck.

He was gone before Elsa could thank him. She drove slowly onto Welty land, noticing that it was soggy from rain but hadn’t been flooded. The camp was situated between two cotton fields and set well back from the road. A guardhouse stood at the fenced entrance to the camp.

Elsa came to it and stopped.

A man stood there holding a shotgun. He was whippet-thin, with a pencil neck and an elbow-sharp chin. A hat covered close-cut gray hair.

“Hello, sir,” she said.

The man stepped up to the truck, peered inside. “You flooded out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We only take families here,” he said. “No riffraff. No Negroes. No Mexicans.” He eyed the three of them. “No single women.”

“My husband is coming home tomorrow,” Elsa said. “He’s picking peas.” She paused. “Grant sent us.”

“Yep. He knows I’ve got an open cabin.”

“A cabin,” Loreda whispered.

“It’s four bucks a month for electricity, and a buck apiece for two mattresses.”

“Six dollars,” Elsa said. “Can I get the cabin without electricity or mattresses?”

“No, ma’am. But there’s work here at Welty and if you live in our cabins, you’re the first to get our jobs. The big man owns twenty-two thousand acres of cotton. Most of our folks live on relief until the cotton season. We have our own school, too. And a post office.”

“School? On the property?”

“It’s better for the kids. They don’t get hassled so much. You want it or not?”

“She definitely wants it,” Ant said.

“Yes,” Elsa said.

“Cabin Ten. We take payment right out of your pay. There’s a store where you can buy goods and even get a little cash if you need it. On credit, of course. Go on.”

“Don’t you need my name?”

“Nah. Go on.”

Elsa continued on the muddy road toward a collection of cabins and tents, set up almost like a town. She followed the signs to Cabin 10 and parked beside it.

The cabin was a concrete and wooden structure that was about ten feet by twelve feet. The sides began as a layer of concrete block and then became metal panels with wood supports. There were no windows, but two of the upper walls had long metal vents that could be pushed up and locked in place on hot days.

They got out of the truck and went inside. It was gloomy, cast in shadows. A bare light bulb hung from a cord on the ceiling. “Electricity,” Elsa said, marveling.

A small hot plate on a wooden shelf and two rusted metal bed frames with mattresses took up half of the space in the cabin, but there was room for chairs, maybe even a table. There was a cement floor. A floor.

“Wowza,” Ant said.

“This is great,” Loreda said.

Electricity. Mattresses. A floor beneath their feet. A roof over their heads.

But . . . six dollars. How in the world could she pay for this? They’d lost every cent they had.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Loreda asked.

“Can we go exploring?” Ant asked. “Maybe there’s other kids here.”

Elsa nodded distractedly, stood there. “Go on. Don’t be gone long.”

Elsa left the cabin after them. She could see several cabins and at least fifty tents spread out across five or six acres. People milled about, gathering firewood, chasing children. It looked more like a town than a ditch-bank camp, with signs that pointed the way to toilets and laundry and school.

The good fortune of being here was tempered by her fear of losing it. How long could she live on credit?

She went back to her truck and picked up the box of supplies Loreda had gathered from the Salvation Army. Clothes, shoes and coats for the children, sheets, a single frying pan. And some food—enough for two days if they were careful.