partway over the hole with a soft
plunk. Oh well,
she said,
we aren’t going to solve this mystery.
And she started back for the truck.
Come on,
she hollered over her shoulder,
I’ve got supper on.
She stopped and looked back in time to see Mr. Crosie straighten the lid so it fit neatly over the hole, then step it gently into place.
He’d talked about that hole for weeks after, months. He’d pipe up suddenly, while thumbing through
The Producer
or in the middle of
M*A*S*H, Who could have drilled it? Someone from around here? What for? When?
It always took her a few seconds to clue in.
Who cares?
she’d say then.
Forget about it already.
But he couldn’t. In fact, she’d bet dollars to doughnuts he’d been back there with a flashlight more than once. Mr. Crosie was like that, couldn’t leave things alone. Silly things. Useless things. It annoyed her.
Edna blinked up into sunlight. Eulan stared at her.
“I said, have you had someone down there even? Might be you just need to dump a load of water in, get someone down to prime the pump. You should get someone down there once before you go and bring the drillers out.”
Edna took a long breath. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, exhaling. “You’d think they might’ve said something about that on the phone.”
“What have you got there anyway,” Eulan asked, “jet pump or submersible?”
“Submersible?” Edna asked.
“A down-hole submersible,” he said, then added, “Is your pump by the house or down the well?”
“Oh,” Edna said, “I really don’t know.” I should know that, she thought angrily. Why don’t I know that?
Eulan shrugged. “Either way, it’s worth a try, I guess,” he said. “Hell of a lot cheaper than drilling a new well. Betty’s brother had to go down sixty-five feet and she was dry as toast. Hell of a lot cheaper than that.”
“Yes,” Edna said absently, for she was still trying to think whether she’d seen anything like a pump near the house, “that’s for sure. You said it.”
“Well, then, you just hang on there once,” Eulan said, and thumped a fist against the truck. “You just hang on,” he said. “I know a fella.”
• • •
Edna drove home, the water slopping out on the truck bed with each bump in the road. Just as well, she thought, listening to it slosh and roll behind her. Full pails would be too heavy for her to lift anyway. You’d think Eulan could have figured that out for himself. You’d think, after all Mr. Crosie had done for him, he would have offered to haul some over for her, or at least have one of the boys do it. But that was Eulan. She’d noticed he hadn’t offered to check the pump for her either. Well, that was no real surprise; she’d known Eulan Thauberg too long to expect it of him. No, he had his eye on the land, all right. But he had another thing coming. Typical Eulan: greedy. Greedy and cheap. Lazy, too.
But this fellow Eulan mentioned sounded promising; a young fellow from near Golden Prairie—she didn’t recognize the name. She hoped he worked fast. That chill in the air even at midday promised a hard frost. Soon the ground would freeze; it would be too late to drill if she needed to. Besides, she couldn’t keep hauling water from Thaubergs’, she fretted as she pulled into the quiet yard and unloaded the wet, heavy buckets straight into the porch. It just didn’t make sense.
And, thinking about how things did not make sense, Edna pulled off her coat and boots and sat at the kitchen table far into the evening, waiting for the phone to ring, staring out the window as the sun slowly turned a dull, effortless red and sank beneath the horizon. In the dark, she rested her head on her arms and thought that sometimes, sometimes, it was all just too much.
When Edna woke the next morning, the muscles in her neck aching and the orange cat demanding to be let out and thewater crusted over in the unheated porch (for she had forgotten to bring any into the
plunk. Oh well,
she said,
we aren’t going to solve this mystery.
And she started back for the truck.
Come on,
she hollered over her shoulder,
I’ve got supper on.
She stopped and looked back in time to see Mr. Crosie straighten the lid so it fit neatly over the hole, then step it gently into place.
He’d talked about that hole for weeks after, months. He’d pipe up suddenly, while thumbing through
The Producer
or in the middle of
M*A*S*H, Who could have drilled it? Someone from around here? What for? When?
It always took her a few seconds to clue in.
Who cares?
she’d say then.
Forget about it already.
But he couldn’t. In fact, she’d bet dollars to doughnuts he’d been back there with a flashlight more than once. Mr. Crosie was like that, couldn’t leave things alone. Silly things. Useless things. It annoyed her.
Edna blinked up into sunlight. Eulan stared at her.
“I said, have you had someone down there even? Might be you just need to dump a load of water in, get someone down to prime the pump. You should get someone down there once before you go and bring the drillers out.”
Edna took a long breath. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, exhaling. “You’d think they might’ve said something about that on the phone.”
“What have you got there anyway,” Eulan asked, “jet pump or submersible?”
“Submersible?” Edna asked.
“A down-hole submersible,” he said, then added, “Is your pump by the house or down the well?”
“Oh,” Edna said, “I really don’t know.” I should know that, she thought angrily. Why don’t I know that?
Eulan shrugged. “Either way, it’s worth a try, I guess,” he said. “Hell of a lot cheaper than drilling a new well. Betty’s brother had to go down sixty-five feet and she was dry as toast. Hell of a lot cheaper than that.”
“Yes,” Edna said absently, for she was still trying to think whether she’d seen anything like a pump near the house, “that’s for sure. You said it.”
“Well, then, you just hang on there once,” Eulan said, and thumped a fist against the truck. “You just hang on,” he said. “I know a fella.”
• • •
Edna drove home, the water slopping out on the truck bed with each bump in the road. Just as well, she thought, listening to it slosh and roll behind her. Full pails would be too heavy for her to lift anyway. You’d think Eulan could have figured that out for himself. You’d think, after all Mr. Crosie had done for him, he would have offered to haul some over for her, or at least have one of the boys do it. But that was Eulan. She’d noticed he hadn’t offered to check the pump for her either. Well, that was no real surprise; she’d known Eulan Thauberg too long to expect it of him. No, he had his eye on the land, all right. But he had another thing coming. Typical Eulan: greedy. Greedy and cheap. Lazy, too.
But this fellow Eulan mentioned sounded promising; a young fellow from near Golden Prairie—she didn’t recognize the name. She hoped he worked fast. That chill in the air even at midday promised a hard frost. Soon the ground would freeze; it would be too late to drill if she needed to. Besides, she couldn’t keep hauling water from Thaubergs’, she fretted as she pulled into the quiet yard and unloaded the wet, heavy buckets straight into the porch. It just didn’t make sense.
And, thinking about how things did not make sense, Edna pulled off her coat and boots and sat at the kitchen table far into the evening, waiting for the phone to ring, staring out the window as the sun slowly turned a dull, effortless red and sank beneath the horizon. In the dark, she rested her head on her arms and thought that sometimes, sometimes, it was all just too much.
When Edna woke the next morning, the muscles in her neck aching and the orange cat demanding to be let out and thewater crusted over in the unheated porch (for she had forgotten to bring any into the
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