If you didn't look down, the powder almost felt like you were walking through snow. But it wasn't cold. It had a soft, silky feeling similar to when a cat rubbed your leg.
Holding the cloth tight to my face to keep out the dust, I made my way through the darkening afternoon towards the old truck sitting beside the tall wagon it towed. Colored like a circus attraction, its sides bespoke of miracles to be had for the asking. Promises of the impossible, just ask within.
Daddy and the other menfolk had said he was a fraud. They had thrown things at the side of the wagon when he first pulled into town. Then, after he gave his speech, they threw things at him. He was a nice-looking man, maybe my daddy's age or a few years less. He spoke with an elegance and tone that was soothing to the ear. A "City Slicker" the men had called him. That was one of the nicer things they had called the well-dressed man.
Some of the words they used I was not supposed to know the meaning of yet. Especially after he told them what he needed to make his machine work.
Blinded by the dust and wind, I held out my arm and walked till my hand touched the painted wood. The old flakes of dried pigment rustled and came away under my touch. Coughing, I hugged the side of the wagon and made my way around till I found the door. I knocked hard, bruising my knuckles. After a few moments, the door opened just a crack.
"What?"
"I've come to give you what you need to make the rains come back." I shivered even as I said this to him. How could I have talked myself into this? Then the memories of my father hacking so very deep in his chest. Momma bleeding from her nose after collecting the few measly eggs our hens laid. My little brother... little Dalton, crying himself to sleep because he was hungry. For them I would do this. I would do far more than this.
He opened the door to his wagon just enough to let me in then quickly shut it behind me. I felt his hand on my back as he ushered me in. His touch caused a shiver of fear.
The inside of the wagon could have been owned by a magpie. The collection of shiny things would have done a child proud. There were globes and things that looked like globes but were not. Clocks lined the walls far too many to just tell time with. If they were all to chime at once the noise would have to be deafening. For a grown man to collect stuff like this was repulsive.
There was an object, the size of a small plow, covered with a piece of colorful canvas, sitting to one side of the wagon. It took up far too much room. I had to dodge around it to get further from this man.
"What's your name, girl?" he asked when I lowered the cloth from my face. I was shedding dust with cloth, but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes were taking in my face. Then they dropped lower. I felt that same unease I felt when Daddy's friends would look at me some times.
"Cora Ann. Cora Ann Steward. My daddy's a farmer hereabouts." I was about to say more when he stopped me.
"I don't need to know about your father, girl, just about you." He let the words all but roll off his tongue. They dripped with a honey that spoke of big city streets and faraway places. "Tell me Cora Ann... How old are you?"
"I just turned eighteen, last month."
"Eighteen and not married? Why not, gal your age should be already married and a mother twice over. Anything wrong with you I need to know about? You are a virgin right? My machine won't... bring the rains, if you're not."
"I's a virgin. So long as kissin' don't count. I let Scott Madison kiss me behind the schoolhouse one time. That doesn't count right?" I asked, suddenly afraid I had come here for nothing. If that one kiss kept the rains from coming back, I would beat Scott with a carpet beater like he was momma's old rug.
The man smiled, then chuckled. He shook his head, then moved past me to where I saw a chair pulled out from a table. He closed a large book on the table, after putting the strip of gold silk in place to mark his page. I relaxed a bit when I saw it was a Bible and not some book of sorcery. That had been one of the stories that had been told after church services yesterday. That anyone who claimed to be able to bring the rains in any way other than praying for them must be a sorcerer. No man who reads from the Good Book could be a bad man.
No sooner had that thought crossed my mind when I looked up at his face and had to step back from the intensity of his gaze. Then he smiled.
"Young lady, I am proud of you. I am proud that you and you alone in this little town had the common sense to come to understand that something so simple as a lost hymen cannot begin to compare to the good that the return of the rains would do," As he spoke he laid his hand upon the Bible. "This land has become so parched that even a drop of rain would be welcome, and I am here to promise you that your sacrifice on the altar of scientific progress will not be but a drop, but a true deluge of biblical proportions. I was, at the very moment you knocked on my door, pondering the ways of God in the scriptures, and as I looked upon the story of Noah, you did knock upon my door. The ancient peoples of Greece and Rome set much store by omens and portents, so indeed do many now-a-days. I do not. I see not the hand of fate or the guidance of God in your coming here. I see the very spirit of the founders of our great nation. You, are to be saluted for your courage my dear."
Blinking, I swallowed the grit of dust that filled my throat. I felt not pride or courage when he took my hand and led me towards a bed. I noticed little things then, like that the bed had not been made. That a bottle of whiskey sat within reach and had been nearly drunk empty.
"Now my dear young lady, I must school you in the ways of science and biology. Forgive me if my words do go beyond your school's no doubt simple teachings into reals of science, best left to the great... thinkers... of our age." As he spoke, he began to loosen the string tie that he had worn when he spoke earlier to the people of the town. The beautifully tailored jacket he had worn now hung from a peg by the door. As he began to disrobe, before me my mind found such common things as that coat to look at. His words did not stop coming, but the meaning of them was soon lost. He continued to speak as he first shed his shirt, then slipped off his suspenders. When his hands went to his trousers, I covered my face.
His words stopped.
"My dear girl. Do not be afraid of me. Not of me or of my body. I am but a man, no different than the one that will, no doubt, one day soon be your husband. I have nothing under my clothes that you father or your brothers do not have. There is no reason to fear the sight of a man without raiment. For was not man made in the very image of God? Well, if that is so then is not the sight of a man, standing as Adam stood in the garden, not a holy sight to look upon?"
Slowly moving my hands, I could not help but look down upon his... Oh my lord in heaven! I quickly covered my eyes back up.
His weight next to me made the bed settle.
