Is that how come you to move out here?
That, and other things. Are you sure you don’t want me to make some instant coffee? You’re not drinking your tea.
No. But thanks just the same. This here’s fine. He drank some of the tea and set the mug down and wiped at his mouth. He looked out the window and then at her. I don’t believe Victoria and me’s ever had a fight. I don’t know what we’d have to fight about.
She’s a lovely girl.
Yes. She is.
But you’ve only just gotten started with her, haven’t you.
How do you mean?
We’ll, she’s only been with you for a short time, isn’t that right?
She come out to us two years ago. About two and a half years ago now. We had a little bit of a rough time at first but things have worked out. At least I think so on my side. I can’t speak for her.
She’s very lucky to have you.
If she is, Raymond said, it goes both ways.
She smiled at him, then stood and carried the tea mugs to the sink and dropped the tea bags into the trash.
I’m afraid I’m keeping you, he said.
I would offer you supper. But I’ve got to get ready for work.
This is one of your work nights.
Yes.
I better get on towards home anyway.
He stood and walked to the counter and picked up his hat and looked inside the crown, then glanced at her and started toward the front door. She followed behind. As he passed through he looked about the rooms once more. In the front hall he put on his hat. You want me to shut off your car when I get out there?
Yes, if you would. I forgot all about it.
I’ll just leave the keys on the seat.
Thank you again, she said. Thank you so much.
Yes, ma’am. You’re welcome.
He cut off the ignition in the car and set the keys on the seat, then climbed into his pickup and drove around the block onto Date Street and turned south toward the highway. It was growing dark now, the early darkening of a short winter’s day, the sky fading out, the night coming down. The streetlamps had flickered on at the street corners. When he came to the highway he sat for a moment at the stop sign. There was no one behind him. He was trying to decide. He knew what awaited him at home.
He turned right and drove to Shattuck’s Café at the west edge of Holt and went in and sat at a little table by himself at the window, watching the big grain trucks and the cars going by on US 34, their headlights switched on in the evening dark, the exhaust trailing off in the cold air.
When the high-school girl came to take his order, he said he’d take a hot roast beef sandwich and mashed potatoes and a cup of black coffee.
Don’t you want anything else? she said.
Not that I can get here.
Pardon?
Nothing, he said. I was just thinking out loud. Bring me a slice of apple pie. And some ice cream on the side too, vanilla if you got it.
31
VALENTINE’S FELL ON A SATURDAY AND HOYT WORKED from six in the morning until six in the evening at the feedlot east of town, riding pens in the blowing dirt and cold and doctoring cattle in the sick pen next to the barn, where a blackbaldy steer with bloody scours kicked him in the knee, then loosed itself on his jeans while he was trying to push it into the chute. At the end of the day he caught a ride into town with Elton Chatfield in Elton’s old pickup.