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It was dry. Two months gone by and the only cloud that passed over town had more silver in it than a bank. The creek was so dry the crawdads had to teach the fish how to walk. The land was as gray as the ashes from a burnt out fire.
Jeb Tooley had a well. It never failed him. But one day it went dry. He figured all he had to do was dig deeper and he'd hit water for sure. He dug and he dug, and pretty soon he got half a bucket, but that was all. So he dug more, deeper and deeper. When he was done he could see light out the other end but no water. That was it, dry as a bone. Pretty soon even the half drop in the creek dried up, and all the fish packed their bags and went to look for an ocean.
The only spot that wasn't dry was the Blue Ox. But there were just three barrels of Ira's finest left and when they were gone folks'd have to drink dust, or learn to squeeze water from rocks. Something had to be done before long, or the whole town'd have to pack up and follow the fish.
It was time for a meeting. Everybody in town showed up at the Blue Ox at sundown, after it cooled off.
"Quiet down!" George Harper, little Carrie's dad, got up on top of the bar. "Quiet down. Let's bring this meetin' to order.
"Now you all know what we're here for. Land's almost as dry as my tongue was when I asked Carrie's mother to marry me. Something's got to be done, or the whole town's just going to dry up and blow away. We got everybody here tonight to see if we could get some ideas. Any ideas. If somebody told me it'd bring rain I'd stand on my head in my bare feet and whistle. Come on now. Raise up your hand if you got an idea. --- There's one. Mary Sue."
Mary Sue stood up.
"The Greeks used to make a sacrifice when they had a dry spell."
"What's a 'sacrifice' Mary Sue?" Clay never could understand a word with more than six letters to it, unless it was 'drinksareonthehouse'.
"A sacrifice is when you kill a goat and burn it for the gods."
Mary Sue got a guilty look on her face. She couldn't even bring herself to kill a house spider.
"Did it work?" George go right to the point.
"Usually things got worse before they got better."
"Can't have that. Things get any worse and the air'll catch fire."
George hit it square. Any drier and a man wouldn't be able to breath. Mary Sue was relieved. The only goats in town were personal friends of hers. George started up again.
"Anyone else? There has to be something we can do."
Everybody all had their hands up at once. George called out one and six'd answer. Ideas? Every man woman and child in the Blue Ox had one, or six. If yelling, screaming, and shouting could have done it, there'd have been a flood that washed the whole down away.
George did his best to bring the meeting back to order. He shouted himself hoarse, but he might as well have tried to talk reason to a hurricane. Finally he got so desperate he drew a pail of beer and threw it out over the room. You can bet folks stopped and looked up when they felt something wet coming down on top of their heads.
"Quiet!" George says. "Just everybody be quiet or I'll empty out every barrel Ira's got and let the floor drink it up. Now, anybody has something to say, you come up here alongside of me and say it. One at a time."
Jeb Tooley jumped up on the bar.
"George is right. We got to get together on this thing. You all know about that time I went to the city to buy some of that special seed my cousin told me about? He had me all around this big school where all they did was sit around all day and learn about everything. And they had all kind of doctors that did the learning, not just medical doctors. They had book doctors, and star doctors, and plant doctors..."
"Come on Jeb. Get to it!" All those doctors were making Sandyman sick.
"All right Sandyman. I'm gettin' to it. Like I was sayin', there were all kinds of doctors, even a weather doctor."
"Think he could bring rain?" George asked.
"If we got up enough money I figure he'd at least come and give it a try. I don't see there's anything better."
That's how it was. Nobody could come up with a better idea. Hated to put their money on a city man. Like betting the earth'd end tomorrow and expecting to collect. But there was no other way to it.
Wasn't anybody could push a horse along faster than Fetch Brandy. Give him an old swaybacked, dragtailed plow nag with blinkers and he'd outrun anything on four legs. The only time Fetch ever lost a race is when he rode a sawharse against Gray's gelding, Dan. Even then he only came in half a length behind, and with termites. If something needed getting in a hurry, Fetch was the one to send for it. Peter was in the Blue Ox once setting himself to have a smoke, but when he reached in his pocket he found out he'd forgot his pipe back at the farm. One look and Fetch was out the door. He was back with the pipe before Peter could get his hand out of his pocket. If somebody needed to get to that city doctor quick, Fetch was it. Sunup the day after the meeting he was half-way across the county.
Road, hollow, creek, bridge--- it was some day for a ride. Hoofs pounding. Fetch, he took Gray's best horse Kate and turned her into Lightning Lil. Further he rode the drier it got, sun white hot, road burning at Kate's hoofs. Fetch and Kate, a shimmering in the air. Road, hollow, creek, bridge--- it was some day for a ride.
Then Kate pulled up short. One more bridge over one more deep dry creek. But smack in the middle of the bridge sat a wagon, blocking it from rail to rail. Paint peeling, wheels loose, and spokes cracked. It looked like it'd been sitting there forever, floating in the air up over the creek until somebody thought to build a bridge under it. Fetch had a problem. He needed to cross that bridge.
"Hello! he says. "Anybody home?"
"Shhh! You'll scare the fish."
You can bet that took Fetch by surprize. He got off Kate and looked around the wagon.
"Over here, other side of the wagon. Watch your step. Some of those boards are loose."
Fetch worked his way out the bridge, alongside of the wagon.
"Careful now. One slip by the wheel and you're in the creek."
Fetch never saw anything like it. Here was this fellow, leaned up against the wagon wheel, shoes off, dangling his legs over the side of the bridge. And he had a fishing pole. A fishing pole at a dry creek. Fetch though he must be crazy.
"You always fish here?"
"Whenever I can."
"Had any bites?"
"Nope."
"Figure it might be on account of the creek's gone dry?"
"Could be."
"You know you can't fish a dry creek."
"Why not?"
"Just can't. Everybody knows that. Ain't any fish in a dry creek."
Fellow picked up a floppy brimmed hat and put it on.
"Now what if I told you this creek never had any fish in it even when it was full up to the brim."
"I might say you're crazy."
"You might. Now where's my manners? We ain't been introduced. Name's Cooper. Cooper Moonstone. Friends call me Rainbarrel."
Fellow got up and put out his hand to Fetch. Fetch took it and shook it.
"Fetch. Fetch Brandy. Just what do you think you're doin', fishin' a dry creek?"
Moonstone jiggled his line. "Well, if I did it to catch fish you can bet I wouldn't do it here. I fish for relaxation, soothes my nerves. Just like to sit back with my shoes off, danglin' my line over the water. I don't want to catch any fish. It'd wake me up. No sir, I don't want to catch fish. I tell you, once on this very spot I had a bite. Damn near ruined my whole day. I'd'a thrown it back but I was afraid it'd just latch onto my line again. Spoiled the rest of the afternoon tryin' to figure what to do with it. Finally gave up and decided to throw it back and hope it'd know better than to get caught again, but by then it'd been out in the air so long it didn't remember how to breath water. Yes sir, the best place of all to fish is where there's no water, and no chance for fish at all."
Fetch still thought he was crazy, but he had to cross that bridge.
"Well now," he says, "it's fine for you to be sittin' here fishin' a dry creek. A man's got a right. But your wagon's blockin' off the bridge and I got to get over. If you could see your way into movin' it I'd be obliged."
Cooper sighed. "That's a problem. I can't move it. Horse run off. But what are you in such a rush for?"
Fetch looked up and down the creek to see if there was a spot where he could get Kate over.
"Got to get to the city to try and fetch this weather man they got there to see if he'll come and bring us some rain. You got a rope?"
"Guess I do, somewhere." Moonstone got up to look in his wagon. "You say you need someone who can bring rain?"
"It's that or drink dust." Fetch took the rope Moonstone pulled out of the wagon. "Reckon I can hitch Kate up to the back axle here and pull 'er right off. Wish I could do more for you, but I got to get that doctor, quick."
"A weather doctor?" Moonstone helped Fetch with the rope. "Never did see one yet who could bring rain. Tell you it ain't goin' to rain tomorrow, or maybe it is, put the laundry on the line or bring it in, tell you all about what the weather might, or might not do, but never bring rain. Don't come cheap either. How much are you payin' him?"
Fetch was figuring the best way to tie the rope up to Kate.
"All we got. We need rain."
"Been quite some time since I brought on a rainstorm."
Fetch looked up over Kate's saddle at Moonstone.
"You bring rain?"
"I did once. Don't know anymore. I might have lost the touch." Moonstone watched Fetch out of the corner of his eye.
"What kind of rain do you bring?"
"Most any kind. Hail, sleet, blizzard, hurricane. You name it. Specialized in week long thunderstorms."
"Think you could bring up one of them week long storms now?"
"Don't know. Still carry most all I'd need for it in the wagon.--- You know, I just reckon I could. I got that old feelin' back in my fingertips, just waitin' to spread up into my arms. I think I could do it."
Moonstone's eyes got to gleaming. Fetch started Kate to pulling.
"Ho now Kate! You can do it." The wagon started moving. "That's it. Pull it out!" The wagon rolled right off, leaving the bridge free and clear.
"You sure you could bring rain?"
"I sure got the feelin'. If I can't bring it nobody can."
"Well Moonstone, I reckon there's just as much chance you can bring rain as any city man, and I can get you into town a day quicker. If I hitch Kate up to your wagon and bring you back with me would you be willin' to give it a try?"
Moonstone jumped up on the back of the wagon.
"Once I got the itch there's nothin' could stop me."
"It's a deal then?"
"Deal!"
Moonstone took up a stick and gave out a swing. Boom! He had a drum in the back of that wagon that was filled with thunder.
"Thunder we got, and we're off like lightning!"
Moonstone said it, but he didn't count of Fetch taking him at his word. Kate started off so quick it about knocked him off his seat.
"Hurrah Katie! Giddap!"
Fetch took that old shack of a wagon and turned it into the Blue Streak Express. Thunder and lighning? Tornadoes and hurricanes! Wheels rumbling, spokes whirling. Moonstone got hold of his hat, pounding on that drum, head held back, lungs open wide to the sky. Fetch was going home, and he was bringing rain--- or the nearest thing to.
They got in at sundown. Stirred up a dust cloud half a mile high. Folks flooded to the Blue Ox. Fetch was outside wiping down Kate. But folks didn't pay him any mind. All they could see, all they could hear, was Moonstone and that drum of his.--- It almost brought the sky down.
Jeb and George got there as soon as they heard.
"Back already? That the doctor?" George tipped his had to Moonstone.
Jeb pushed his way up front. "That ain't any doctor I ever seen."
"Met him on the road," Fetch said. "He brings rain."
"You met him on the road?" Jeb almost let loose at Fetch. "Just how do you know he brings rain?"
"Told me so."
"What about the city doctor?"
"Must be in the city."
"What?"
With that drum pounding a man could hardly think straight.
"Will you quiet that thing down?"
Boom!!! Jub put his hands to his ears. "Quiet that thing down!"
The pounding stopped.
"That's better. Now, what's this two bit con artest know about makin' rain?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Luck Moonstone'd put his stick down or Jeb'd got it through the ear.
"That's right. What do you know about making rain?"
"Sir," Moonstone stood up on the wagon, "what I don't know about makin' rain nobody does. When I was born I raised my fist and hollered and brought on a blizzard. When I cried the whole sky cried right along with me. Moonstone's my name. You know what that is? It's a drop of rain straight from heaven. Cooper Moonstone. Rainbarrel. Once I found myself in the middle of a desert, sand every which way for a thousand miles. Clapped my hands and brought on the big daddy storm of all times. Had to float my wagon a month and a half before I found land. Wound up on a little mountain top where I met up with a fellow had a traveling zoo. Borrowed a horse from him when the water went down. What do I know about making rain? If I don't know it, nobody does."
Folks gathered round close. Air felt moist, Moonstone just talking. Jeb still wasn't satisfied.
"Hey!" He looked back at Fetch. "You ain't given him any of our money?"
"Money?" Moonstone stood up full height on top of the wagon. "I wouldn't take a penny before I filled up every creek and dry well in the county, but you keep at it and I'll charge you a penny a drop, then let you try to add it up after you're up to your neck in it."
Jeb turned to George. "I still think we should get that city doctor."
Moonstone pulled his hat off. "You're tryin' my patience. City doctor'll take your money all right. He'll take it and come out here, look up at the sky, draw some curvy lines on a map he's got, then he'll say, 'You're right. It's dry.' Then he'll draw up some more lines, read some out of a book hes got, then he'll look up at you and say, 'I give you a twenty percent chance of rain through Friday.' You know what that means? It's not rainin', it's not going to rain, it never was going to rain, and your pockets are all empty because he's gone back to the city and left you dust. You can keep your city weather man. I'll take rain."
Jeb turned to George. "That's just talk. What proof do we have that he knows anything about rain? If Fetch won't go get that city weather man, I will. You're with me now George?"
George shook his head. "I reckon one rainmaker is as good as another. You can go after that city man if you want, but I figure we ought to give Moonstone here a try.
Jeb didn't say another word. He shot a look at Moonstone that would have touched off dry tinder, then he stomeped off. Wasn't anybody looking after him though. Everybody's eyes were locked tight on Moonstone.
"Well now," he says, "now that we got that all worked out let's get to work. You keep that money in a safe place. When the rain comes I'm collectin'. I'm a little rusty now, it's been a lot of years, so I'm going to need some help. First off, a volunteer to pound on the drum."
He gave it a whack that shook the shingles.
"Got to be somebody who can keep it up all night long."
Fetch jumped up on the wagon.
"Much obliged. You just start poundin' real soft til I'm done talkin', then you can cut loose and let her roar.
"Everybody listen close. We got to make it sound like the biggest flood totin' storm there ever was is hittin' the town, and hittin' it hard. Anything that sounds like thunder, pots, pans, hammers, anvils, anything, you get to it and make it sing. And raindrops. Throw gravel at your windows. Drop straight pins in your sinks, Pour beer down your gullets. Make it sound like rain. You got lanterns, candles? Light 'em up and blow 'em out. Make it look like lightning. Use your fancy. Let loose with everything you got. Make those clouds come see why there's a party and they aren't invited. Make 'em come. I'm clappin' my hands! I'm shakin' my fist! I'm screamin' my lungs out to the sky! Make it rain. Go on. Get to it! Make it rain!!!"
Fetch cut loose. The ground shook. Folks all scattered. By the time the last bit of sunlight'd left the sky there wasn't a spot in town where a sane person would've felt safe. Banging and clattering. Lights flashing. Running in the streets. Whistling and wailing. Crashing and clanging. Anybody who could make a noise made it, and made it loud. Sandyman took his fiddle and got to plucking the quickest, lightfootedest two-step of a spring shower you ever saw, and Clay filled in on his jug with the wildest whoosh wonder of a wind there ever was. The Springer twins got to wrestling, Jimmy and Jaspar, pounding the ground, making the hard places soft and the soft places hard. Slap and clap of their hands like thunder. Even the bridge club girls got to it., clinking spoons in their teacups and dropping cards in the crystal. Gray and Gower had a contest, ping, ping, ping, ping, kept Ira's spitoon ringing. What noise! What beautiful noise. Moonstone in the middle of it all, lungs open wide to the sky. Him and Fetch's drumming soaking up and booming over every crash, roar, and clatter in the whole town.
Kept it up all night. But by daybreak it slowed down. It got to be discouraging, looking up for clouds when all there was were stars. Sandyman had an idea. He figured he'd get up top of the roof of Hank's store and use his beer to make like rain. Never stopped to think there were some folks who wouldn't see the joke in it. Well, there he was, on the roof of Hank's store, waiting for his first customer, when he looked out west. The sky was still dark, the sun just barely poking out behind him. He squinted, blinked his eyes, and squinted again. One, two, three and he threw his beer in the air, glass and all.
"I see one!" he shouts. Almost fell off the roof. "Out there! I see one!"
There isn't anybody in town who didn't hear it. Anybody who could climbed a roof and started looking. A cloud is what it was, but more than just that. Ten minutes went by and it was a dozen. By the time the sun was all the way up it was a whole army. Folks all raced down the the Blue Ox and Moonstone.
"Clouds!" He yelled. "Clouds!" I whistle now and they're comin' in. Keep it up! Don't stop now! Tell those clouds the party's here and it's here they're comin'!"
The wind kicked up, dust flyin'. But oh those clouds--- folks hardly had a chance to say good mornin' before those clouds covered the sun up black as night. Wind whipping circles around the town. A flash, then crash--- rattle the crystal on the shelf, shake the ceiling and rock the floors. --- Thunder. One hundred percent genuine thunder. Honest to God hide in the closet, dog under the bed, hands over your ears thunder.
Moonstone in the center. Folks gathered round. Waiting. He stood there. Then his hat jumped and there was a dark spot on the brim. It spread and soaked through. He took his hat off, looked at the spot on the brim, then threw it in the air, threw it a mile high, threw it up so far it never came down.
"Rain!" he shouted.
"Rain!!!" Everybody cheered.
Crash!!! One, two, three, and it came. Rain!!! Everywhere. No pitter-patter, just one drop on the brim of Moonstone's hat, one, two, three, and it all broke loose.
Dancing in the streets. Rolling in the mud. Flash, crash, shake and rattle. What a storm. Water! Water in the creek. Water soaking into the fields. Water, water, everywhere! Rain so thick, so hard, a man could swim through it.
It rained and it rained and it never let up. The creek came up out of its banks. The fish got the word and started back. Jeb's well filled right up. As a matter of fact, Jeb's well turned into Jeb's lake. It proved the point. Half a week went by and the celebration never stopped.
Moonstone drank it up. He sat at the bar in the Blue Ox next to Fetch and just let it fill him full.
The Blue Ox was full when Jeb got back. He came in out of the rain, water down the back of his shirt, hair pasted to his forehead, boots squeaking, full of water. Brought a little man in with hem. Glasses, an umbrella, and a wet gray Sunday suit. Jeb stood inside the door and dripped.
"That the weather doctor?" Gray asked.
Jeb nodded. He didn't seem to feel much like talking. He did his best not to notice Moonstone sitting at the end of the bar.
"Meteorologist is the correct term," the little man said.
Sandyman turned in his chair. "What does he do?"
The little man looked at Jeb. Jeb shrugged and sat down. The man opened his bag and started. He took out a map. He drew a couple of lines. He read out of a book from his bag. He wrote in another book, drew some more lines, then wrote in his book again.
"What you got?" Sandyman asked.
"I give you a seventy percent chance of precipitation through Friday." He took his book and sat down.
Moonstone stood up.
"I make it closer to ninety-nine."
Fetch turned in his seat and looked at him.
"But Moonstone, it is rainin'."
Moonstone walked over to the window and looked out. Pressed his nose to the glass.------------------ "It could stop."
Gregg Writes
Blue Ox Stories
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