CASS: I don’t think you’re retarded at all.

MARCY: Thank you.

GRANDMA: You’ve been living with him how long exactly?

MARCY: A pretty long time.

GRANDMA: Well, how long more or less?

Pause while MARCY considers.

BRO: Aaaaah…Since more or less right after I jumped bail, and what does that do for ya? That pretty much put the horns and the goatee on your grandson? And the little spike tail on my butt?

MARCY: The animals must be missing us.

BRO: Is anybody there? Who’s tending the stock?

MARCY: They’re waiting.

BRO: Good God. When he gets hungry enough the burro’s gonna kick out the fence boards and go get in the grain sack, and the dogs are gonna chase him around till he busts one of ’em’s head off with a good swift kick, and your precious nanny goat’s probably dead by now of thirst, and her kids are starving.

MARCY: I filled the tank, Bro. And all the troughs and all the bowls for the dogs.

BRO: You got two little kids pulling and sucking at the dead dried-up jugs of their mother.

Pause.

(To MARIGOLD:) Can I ask what you think you’re looking at?

MARIGOLD: Nothing.

BRO: You never said so much as hi.

MARIGOLD: Hi hi hi, Bro. Howdy do. Actually I kicked you in the butt a little while ago. Right in your spiky tail. But you know what? You were blissfully indisposed. And hello to you, too, Marcy. You’re a dazzling sight.

MARCY: Thank you.

MARIGOLD: You’re welcome.

BRO (to MARIGOLD): You were always the bright and airy one.

CASS: Actually, that ain’t her fault, Bro.

BRO: Are you gonna jump up and down on me now, too?

CASS: No. I’m just telling somebody something. (To MARIGOLD:) Sis, you don’t remember. You never got touched by one breath of any of this. Any of our business…You’re our angel of the family. And I mean that respectfully. I mean no sarcasm, Sis.

BRO: Of course you don’t remember. You’d forget World War Two. And Vietnam. You wouldn’t remember Hiroshima if it happened up yer butt. Your mind is one big candy cloud.

MARIGOLD: It’s true. I don’t remember any tragedies. No Texas, no Momma, no vehicular homicide. I just remember growing up in Ukiah with sweet friends in school and three interesting crazy older brothers and a dad and a grandma who spoiled me. In a big old house with a big old dusty yard full of chickens. (Mainly to MARCY:) All you have to be is tiny and innocent enough, and the worst storm just blows right past you.

BRO: Momma was the storm, and the storm ran right over us—especially over Amy, and it killed her. And Amy was more innocent than you’ll ever be.

GRANDMA: And quite a bit tinier. She wasn’t four months old I believe.

CASS: If I had a light…

BRO yanks the cigarette from CASS’s fingers. Turns with it to MARCY.

BRO: Here. Have a delicious Kool. (She takes it.) Put it in your mouth.