The Spirit of Lana Jones: page two

In the spring the storms usually marched forward in a line that stretched from the northeast to the southwest as far as the eye could see. They swept across the prairie and scrubbed it clean, and the rains that those storms brought were like magic, turning the countryside from a winter-dormant brown to a rich, damp green. But that hadn't happened this year; since the last snow in February the skies had been clear and hard. And dry.

Summer storms were different. They were few and far between, and usually very intense. Lana was no scientist--she knew of no such people in these parts--but it seemed to her that summer storms grew so large and strong because they had the skies to themselves. They just sat there and sucked in moisture from all around until they were giants in the sky, and the storm that was coming now was something like that. Its bottom was dark, the color of a bruise, but the rest of the cloud was bright white and puffy, like cotton. It stretched toward the heavens until it was almost out of sight.

Lana smiled.

She went into the house, then, and cleaned herself up. Sam King was persistent, and would arrive on time even if it meant riding through a hailstorm on the way. Lana sort of wished he wouldn't come. Sam wasn't a bad looking man--though she considered men a ragtag bunch, mainly--but he had little else going for him. The only talent he could claim was his ability to turn most any woman in Olney to jelly just by looking at her and saying a few of his charming words. But Lana could see right through his pretty facade, and perhaps that was why he courted her so hard. She was the only young woman in Olney who he couldn't melt like butter.

By the time she washed up and changed into another dress, the storm had moved much closer. The tip of the triangular-shaped storm was just passing over the farm and she could see a curtain of light rain approaching the house from the southwest. Lana smiled again, and then walked around the house to the front porch where she would wait for Sam King. Goosebumps raised themselves on her bare arms as she walked through the grass; it was cool air from the approaching thunderstorm that buffeted her. Luckily, she made it to the porch just as the first round drops of the rain splattered into the dusty yard. She didn't want to be dirty when Sam arrived, because men were mainly dirty creatures, and Lana couldn't live with herself if she was dirtier than one of them.

Lana liked storms because they could liven up an otherwise dull day. This one couldn't have come at a more perfect time, because she had already managed to skip most of her daily chores, and now the heat had been blown away, too. Her ma and pa were gone, and if she could get rid of Sam King before too long, Lana would have the rest of this afternoon to herself. And a fine afternoon it was turning out to be.

Of course, being alone meant she would be left with her thoughts. Maybe she would be better off convincing Sam to hang around for supper.

Lana didn't know exactly why it made her sad to think, but she did know that folks who didn't think so much seemed to be happier than she was. Take Sam, for instance. He was a sly one when it came to women, but couldn't have multiplied six-times-three if a wrong answer had meant his death. Then again, it wasn't really book smarts that she meant. A person could be smart about math, but altogether stupid about life in general. Lana herself wasn't a fortune-teller, but she was bright enough to know that there would never be much of a place for women in Texas, outside of being a wife, that was. Women were expected mainly to stay home and tend the house, while men labored to make money to spend or goods to trade with. That was how the world worked--that's how it had always worked--at least in Texas.

But the thought of leaving this house, where life was nothing but chores, chores, and more chores, to marry a man who would only see to it that she started in on chores again was sickening to Lana. She would rather fling herself into the Red River than settle for that boring life.

The rain all at once got heavier. The drops were still huge--they seemed like marbles falling out of the sky, and sounded like them on the roof--but now they were coming down so hard that Lana could barely see across the yard. The dirt road had turned to mud, and little brown rivers were running away from the house and down the gentle slope of the hill. The wind had grown stronger also, whipping into a frenzy the tall grass that surrounded the house. Lana was grateful that the wind was blowing from the southwest and that the porch faced north; otherwise she would have been soaked through by now. As it was, however, she was able to enjoy the spectacle of the storm in relative comfort, and a smile spread across her face again.

But her thoughts kept creeping back, trying to spoil her good mood. Be sweet to Sam King...he'd make a fine husband. Those were the words of her pa, words she supposed were said with good intentions. She supposed that he was even a little proud that his daughter was the object of Sam's affection, because after all, Sam was quite popular, as much with the men as with the ladies. But couldn't her pa see that marrying Sam King would be torture for her? Couldn't he see how unhappy she was living in Olney? There was no future for women here. Women weren't equal to men. They weren't even equal to horses in many parts.

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