Chapter 1

Late spring rains briefly revive Oklahoma’s red and gray country, lifting corn and weeds. As May ends, clouds dissipate and the sun scorches the fields. The earth crusts and pales, corn leaves brown at the edges, and by June the plants sag as their central ribs weaken.

Traffic and hooves grind the roads to dust. Promising rain clouds arrive from the south but deliver only a spatter before fleeing. A steady wind rises, loosening the crust and lifting dust from fields into the sky. The corn thrashes and then yields as roots are pried free; stalks lean and fall.

Day becomes a dusky red as dust thickens; night turns lightless, stars blotted out. People seal their houses, yet dust sifts in, settling on furniture and dishes. The wind finally dies, leaving a muffled stillness. Morning brings a blood-red sun and a continual sifting of dust over fences, roofs, weeds, trees, and the corn.

Families step outside into the hot, stinging air. Men silently study the ruined corn; women watch the men to see if their spirits will break; children tentatively play while sensing the adults’ mood. Horses nuzzle water to clear surface dust. As the men’s perplexity hardens into anger and resistance, the women and children recognize stability has returned.

With resolve restored, life resumes cautiously. The sun loses its redness and flares on a dust-blanketed land. The men sit in doorways, hands idly working with sticks and stones, thinking and figuring what to do next, accepting loss while preparing to endure.