He finished eating and shoved the plate across the table at her. A golden yellow trickle of egg yolk dripped from his chin. He backhanded it away, rose without a word, and headed to the outhouse. She picked up the dishes and set them next to the washbasin. She had finished the washing up by the time she heard him whistling on his way back. He stepped into the kitchen again and came up behind her. She tried to twist away from a rough, stubble-cheeked kiss, then let her body go limp. When he was done, he kissed her roughly on the neck, slapped her bottom again, went whistling out the door.

She did the washing up and walked to the outhouse. She slipped the hook into the U-shaped nail that held it and sat on the smooth boards, watching a fat spider climb its web. It had a dozen flies trapped, bottle green prisoners waiting to be eaten. Outside she could hear a tractor gargling and farting off in the distance. She cleaned herself with three pages from the shrinking Monkey Ward catalog on the floor and flipped through what was left, looking at things she would never be able to afford. A slip for three dollars. Who could pay three dollars for a slip?

The tears came. They always did. It helped to bawl a little, to let it out. She could still hear her mother saying Don’t stand in the corner and bawl for buttermilk, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t let go, she would go crazy. She let the tears flow until she was empty, then straightened up, smoothed her dress, dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her apron. There was work to do, a whole day of chores ahead. She had walked ten feet from the outhouse when a sudden, violent nausea overtook her and she went down on her knees and vomited into the weeds until the last spasm passed.

She walked back into the house and pulled her overalls on. There was a section of fence almost down on the south side of the pasture. They didn’t dare turn the cattle in to that pasture because there was green alfalfa starting to come up on the other side. If the cows got into it, they’d founder and bloat and die, unless Jake could get to them with a knife quickly enough to open holes in their swollen flanks to let the gas escape. It was just like him to be quick and deft at a job like that but incapable of fixing the fence. She tucked a claw hammer, vise grips, a come-along, and a supply of wire staples into her pockets, saddled Maudie, rode out.