The Time It Never Rained

by Elmer Kelton

  “It’s divided us into little selfish groups, snarlin’ and snappin’ at each other like hungry dogs, grabbin’ for what we can get and to hell with everybody else. We beg and fight and prostitute ourselves. We take charity and give it a sweeter name. And when we get what we ask for it’s never what it looked like it was. The sweet milk generally always turns to clabber.

  “Take the drouth program, for an instance. It’s like haulin’ a bucket up out of the well and findin’ the water all leaked out on the way. They said they would help the rancher by givin’ him ten dollars a ton to help pay for the hay he bought. Overnight the price of hay jumped fifteen dollars. The rancher was five dollars worse off than before, and the government was out ten. Congress agreed to refund two cents a gallon on tractor gasoline to help the farmers. The companies jumped the price of tank gas two cents a gallon delivered to the farm. Every time they set out to ‘help’ us, the price goes up enough to offset the aid. Somebody else steals all the sugar and the stockman is no better off. What’s more, he’s given up somethin’ he can never get back. He’s given up a little of his self-respect, a little of the pride he used to have in takin’ care of himself by himself.”

  The reporter touched the tip of his pencil to his tongue. “Mister Flagg, I’m sure they’ve made mistakes. But doesn’t it give you some satisfaction to know that the government at least had good intentions?”

  “The road to hell is paved and bridged with good intentions. I’d be a lot more satisfied with Uncle Sam if he didn’t hire so many left-handed nephews to run everybody’s business.”

  A few days later Charlie stepped through the bank door and stopped to weigh himself on the free scale. From his desk Emmett Rodale rumbled, “I bet you weigh a lot less than you did when you talked to that reporter.”

  “How come?”

  “Because you unburdened yourself of twenty or thirty pounds of opinions. I wouldn’t of told him about you if I’d thought it’d get you in Dutch.”

  “In Dutch?” Charlie’s mouth sagged open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I reckon you ain’t seen today’s Angelo paper.” Rodale picked up a copy from the top of his desk and thrust it at Charlie. It was spread open to the livestock page. Charlie saw a three-column headline.

  RANCHMAN URGES END TO DROUTH AID: SAYS IT BRINGS MORE HARM THAN HELP

  Charlie swallowed hard. “Have you read it?”

  Big nodded his bald head. “Long before breakfast. And people been readin’ it to me all day. It’s an AP story; I expect it’s bein’ printed today in papers from Cape Cod to Hickory Bend.”

  Charlie sat down in the heavy wooden chair and hurriedly scanned the article. “He quoted me pretty much the way I said it. It’s no different from what I’ve said to you a hundred times.”

  “But when you say it to me it don’t get published.” Big frowned. “Good thing for you that you ain’t runnin’ for office. Nobody would vote for you today but kinfolks, and maybe not all of them.”

  Charlie pitched the paper onto the heavy desk and sat in thoughtful silence, a little bewildered. “Who’s mad at me?”

  Big held up his stubby fingers as if he was about to begin counting on them. He switched his cigar to the other side of his mouth and scowled. “You’re fixin’ to hear from one of them right now. Here comes Yancy Pike like a bull on the prod.”

  Yancy slammed the front door shut behind him and strode toward Charlie, shaking a rolled-up newspaper at him. “Well, Charlie Flagg, I hope to hell you’re satisfied!”

  Charlie pushed to his feet, his nettle beginning to rise. “Now, Yancy, I’m not sure. Maybe you ought to make yourself clear.”

  “You made yourself clear enough. You as much as said we’d get along better if they just went and cut us adrift. What’re you tryin’ to do, ruin us? We got a long winter starin’ us in the face. Just because you’re too backward to take what’s comin’ to you don’t mean you got to go and spoil it for the rest of us.”

  “The man asked me what I thought and I told him. One thing we can still do in this country is to say what we think.”

  “If them damnyankees up in Washington get ahold of that story, they’re liable to say you did without, so we can all do it.”

  Charlie’s fists were trying to knot. He shoved his hands into his pockets as a precaution. “Maybe you could, Yancy. You ever tried?”

  Yancy pushed his face up to close to Charlie’s. His breath was like something dead. “For years, Charlie Flagg, I’ve listened to you spout a lot of damnfool notions and kept my mouth shut because I figured you was harmless. A fool, but harmless. Now I wisht I’d told you off a long time ago. You’re a danger to every one of us.”

  Charlie had a hard time keeping his hands in his pockets. He was acutely aware that everybody in the building was watching and listening. “Anything you figured on doin’ about me, Yancy?”

  “I intend to raise some hell with this bank, for one thing. I’d like to know why Big keeps on backin’ you. If he won’t listen I’ll go to the board of directors. If they don’t do somethin’ I’ll see the examiners. They got no business standin’ behind a man who ain’t got sense enough to take somethin’ when it’s offered to him ... a man who spouts off about things he don’t understand and puts all of us in the shadow of the poorhouse!”

  Charlie ground his teeth together. “I’m one man, Yancy, that’s all ... just one man. One man’s words can’t ruin anything that was worth a damn in the first place. Anyhow, they won’t cut off your aid; they’re too busy buyin’ your vote with it.”

  Yancy Pike tried to stare him down but couldn’t. He turned and stamped to the door. He stopped there to shake the newspaper at Charlie. “You mind what I tell you, Charlie Flagg!”

  When Pike was gone, Charlie slumped back into the straight wooden chair. He had always suspected Big put an uncomfortable chair here on purpose to keep his borrowers at a disadvantage in dickering with him. “I wish to hell I’d never seen that reporter.” He looked worriedly at Rodale. “Is this thing goin’ to cause me trouble?”

  “A man who snipes at Santa Claus can’t expect any brass bands. But Yancy Pike’s not runnin’ this bank. I am.”

  They talked about the feed needs for Brushy Top ... what was left of it. Big gave Charlie a tentative approval for another winter’s financing so long as every dollar spent was squeezed hard first. As Charlie stood up to go, Rodale said, “One last piece of advice, if you’re in the market for any. Next time you run into a reporter, talk to him about football.”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about football.”

  “That’s good.”

  As Charlie was about to reach for the door handle, the door swung open. Page Mauldin stopped in midstride, his tall frame bent, his dark-circled eyes fastened on Charlie Flagg. The two ranchmen stared a moment in surprise. Abruptly Page turned and started back out.

  “Page,” Charlie called, “whoa up a minute.”

  Page kept walking. Outside, Charlie called him again. Page stopped finally and turned. Charlie could see a stiff set to the old ranchman’s jaw.

  “Page, why the hurry? Ain’t seen you in months.”

  Page didn’t extend his hand as Charlie walked up. “Didn’t know you’d been huntin’ me.”

  Charlie awkwardly pulled back the hand he had held out. “I hope you’re not still sore over that cattleman’s caravan.”

  Mauldin flexed his fingers in silence, not looking at Charlie. “Can’t say I’m happy about it. It failed, you know.”

  “I know. But that was months ago, Page. Anyway, I only did what I thought was right.”

  “So you did. And they whupped the britches off of us.”

  “I wish it could’ve been different.”

  “If it was to happen over again, Charlie, wouldn’t your attitude still be the same?”

  “You know it would.”

  “One thing about you, Charlie: you may not always be right, but you’re never in doubt. A man can generally guess j
ust about where you’ll stand.” Page brought himself to look at Charlie. His dark eyes smoldered. “But one thing I didn’t expect ... I didn’t think you’d ever class me as a gravy-licker.”

  “Page, I never said no such-of-a-thing.”

  “You as much as said it. In the paper today.”

  “That’s not what I ...”

  “If you don’t mind, Charlie, I got business to take care of. See you sometime.”

  Page walked on down the street, forgetting or deferring whatever it was that had been about to take him into the bank. Charlie called; “Page, you got it all wrong.”

  Page gave no sign of hearing. Charlie watched helplessly, wanting to follow after him. But to argue with Page Mauldin now would be as futile as trying to hold back the wind with his hands.

  Rounder Pike walked up beside Charlie and stood chewing his cud. “Charlie, don’t you take it too hard. Page ain’t hisself.”

  “He sure has got thin-skinned lately.”

  “For reason. You ever see a wounded bobcat backed into a corner? Page is on the edge, Charlie. He can feel the ice breakin’ under his feet.”

  Charlie’s chin fell. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

  “It’s worse. You know what they say: the bigger they are, the harder they go down.”

  Charlie’s mouth went grim. “Has he got a chance?”

  “Awful thin. One little push now and everything he’s got will go like a string of dominoes.”

  “Then pray he don’t get that push.”

  “Big and the preacher have got a regular prayin’ session every day. Page has got enough notes in that bank to paper half the houses in Little Mexico. And that bank’s just one of the small ones.”

  “But how...”

  “He’s a builder, Charlie, but he’s not a manager. There’s a lot of difference. Thirty-forty years ago a man could be a builder and nothin’ else. But this is a tight-margin world we’ve got today. The cowboy-rancher has had his day, Big says. It’s a book-keeper’s world from here on out.”

  Charlie felt a sour taste rise in his mouth. “Page wasn’t the first man to eat my packin’ out. Your brother Yancy took hide, hair, and all.”

  Rounder stepped to the curb and relieved himself of a wad of chewing tobacco. He paused, pensive. “Don’t think too hard of us. We all want help. But there you stand like our own consciences talkin’ to us, tellin’ us how far we’ve strayed from what we believe in. Nobody likes his conscience naggin’ at him, even though he knows he’s wrong. We envy you for your guts, Charlie, but I reckon we resent you a little, too, for bein’ stronger than the rest of us. Times past, they used to crucify the prophets.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  JIM SWEET SLUMPED AT HIS FEEDSTORE DESK, ALMOST in a state of collapse. He seemed to be looking through Charlie without seeing him. “Thirty thousand dollars,” he said over and over. “He says I owe the government thirty thousand dollars.”

  It had been a long time since Charlie had had thirty thousand dollars. Just the sound of it stunned him a little. “Who says?”

  “That...” Jim’s face clouded with helpless rage. He spat several smoky adjectives in a random mixture of English and Spanish. That was an underrated advantage of being bilingual; it gave a man a wider range of therapeutic outlet. “That goddam federal auditor, that shriveled-up son of a bitch you just met walkin’ out of here.”

  Charlie turned to look. He had passed a stranger on the steps, but he had been too preoccupied to pay attention.

  Jim said, “He was loaded for bear the first day he come here. As much as told me he was goin’ to prove I was a crook—all us feed dealers was crooks, and all the ranchers too. He’s snarled and snapped and insulted the help around here for three weeks. He’s been through every scrap of paper in the place except in the toilet. Now he tells me I been in violation of drouth feed regulations to the tune of thirty thousand dollars.”

  Charlie looked around for a chair and sat down heavily. He had already been jarred too much today. “You never cheated a man in your life, Jim.”

  Jim Sweet dropped his face into his hands. “You tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. It’s easy for a politician to make promises when he’s just passin’ through and don’t ever have to come back. Remember that time a bunch of Congressmen came through and made speeches over at Sonora about what all they was goin’ to do to help people through the drouth? They talked about teamwork, about everybody pitchin’ in together to help out. Said for us feed dealers and the county committees to go ahead and get the feed to the stockmen the best way we could; the government would see that we was taken care of.

  “Well, it sure as hell has. We had to play it by ear. Department of Agriculture drug its feet for months till it finally come out with a full set of regulations. The county PMA committee would certify that a rancher needed a certain amount of feed, and we’d give it to him. The committee was supposed to allow them sixty days’ supply at a time. Lots of ranchers didn’t have that much storage; they’d take what they had room for and let us credit them for the rest. Sometimes they had credit left when the sixty days was up. We went ahead and gave them the feed. Other times they’d run short. We knew the committee would okay them the next time it met, so we advanced them the feed. Seemed like the logical thing to do. This ran on for months till the government finally got all its rules on paper. Now the auditors say the rules applied from the day the program started, and everything we done in those first months was illegal.”

  Charlie said, “They can’t make regulations retroactive. That’s against the United States Constitution.”

  “By God they’ve done it. That’s where the thirty thousand dollars comes in. Nobody stole it. It was fed up just like them Congressmen said it ought to be. Now the Department says it wasn’t legal because we didn’t follow the rules they hadn’t got around to writin’ yet.”

  “The politician promiseth, and the bureaucrat taketh away.” Charlie rubbed his face. “It won’t stand up in court.”

  “Why not? It’s their court.” Sweet cursed and spun his chair around to stare out the window. “You’ll want to know, Charlie ... they’re zeroed in on Page Mauldin.”

  A chill went through Charlie. “Page? How come?”

  “That auditor you saw ... he’s pulled out all the certificates with Page’s name on them. Told me Page shouldn’t ever of been allowed to get any drouth feed. Said Page is a big operator who could afford to buy his own.”

  “What did the regulations say?”

  “Anything, or nothin’. They write them regulations so a man’s never sure what they mean; that way they can jump clear if the britches ever start to bind. County committee tried to get a rulin’ on Page from the state office. State office just passed the buck, throwed all the responsibility back on the county committee. You take them men up in high office, they’re slippery. They make sure it’s always somebody else who gets burned.” Jim Sweet’s eyes bore a keen edge of pain. “Be glad you was smarter than the rest of us. Be glad you stayed out.”

  “I wasn’t bein’ smart. I just didn’t believe in it, is all. I still don’t.”

  “I wish I hadn’t believed in it. I wouldn’t be in all this trouble.”

  “It’ll happen every time you hook up with them federales . There’s too many of them got a brain like a pissant and a mouth like a foghorn.”

  A voice spoke behind him. “Are you referring to me?”

  Turning, Charlie saw the man he had met on the steps, a thin, sharp-eyed man in his middle fifties who looked as if he had been chewing persimmons. Angrily the auditor said, “I believe you were referring to me!”

  Charlie stood up, the blood rising in his face. “That’s damn sure possible.”

  Jim Sweet pleaded, “Charlie, don’t.”

  But it had been too long a day already. Charlie snapped at the auditor, “You’re the one that’s pullin’ a fraud. There wasn’t anything stolen here, and you know it!”

  The auditor stood ramrod straight
and faced him. “There were regulations and they were not followed. There have to be rules. It’s my job to see that the rules are carried out to the letter.”

  The longer Charlie stared, the angrier he became. He thought he saw here the personification of a type he had always despised, a narrow-souled man in an untouchable position, flaunting his power. He had seen it in World War I in ninety-day wonders who used their commissions as a license for arrogance and cruelty. He had seen it in some ranchers contemptuous of their hired help and of anyone else forced to deal with them from a position of weakness. He had seen it in a few peace officers who covered their own moral weakness with the authority of the law. He saw it here, and instinctively he hated it.

  “You figure you’ll build your own prestige if you bring down a man the caliber of Page Mauldin. You’re out for yourself, and you don’t give a damn how many innocent men’s hides you nail to the fence.”

  The auditor’s eyes burned like two live coals. “There are no innocent men. Maybe I’d better look at your records again. I wonder how much you got away with?”

  Charlie drew back his fist. He would have swung if Jim Sweet hadn’t grabbed his arm. “Charlie, for God’s sake ...”

  Charlie swayed. The fury swept through him like wild-fire through dry grass. Before he realized it, Jim was rushing him out the big side door. Charlie dropped onto some feed stacked on the loading dock. An odd sickness swirled over him. His stomach was aboil. He felt a sharp pain in his chest.

  Jim Sweet hovered over him anxiously. “Charlie, you got to be careful, lettin’ yourself get carried away like this.”

  Charlie waved him off. “I’m all right. Leave me alone for a minute.”