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NOISELESSLY Rosa moved to the screen door. EmiHo sat on the porch steps. Every day he sat in the same shady place. Lalo came up and sat down by Emilio on the splintery wood. Three times Lalo had come to sit with Emilio since the army let Lalo go. Not once had she been alone with him from the day he went away, many, many months ago.
"Emilio, amigo," Lalo said now, "this time I bring news."
The baby began to cry, and Lalo turned to look inside. But Rosa bent quickly to pick up the boy and soothe him into contentment.
Emilio lifted the elbows from his knees. He took off his sombrero. With one sweep of his shirt sleeve, he brushed the beads off his wide brown face. "Your voice sings, Lalo, and the smile is big on your lips. You are the bearer of good news."
"Quien sabe, amigo," Lalo teased. He slipped his bare feet out of his shoes. "I come from Mr. Otro at the Big Market— he with the barren wife. He wants a man to bring cantaloupes from Yuma in his truck, maybe three, maybe four trips. He will pay good money to a man who can drive all night and be back early in the morning.— Fine job, eh, Emilio? The night is cool for driving."
"Marveloso, Lalo, I am glad for you, my young and handsome friend. When do you start?" Emilio put his hat back on. He pulled it over his eyes and once more leaned on his elbows.
"But, Emilio, you fat goat!" Lalo gave him a poke. "You do not understand. I give this fine job to you."
April, 1931
"To me, Lalo?" Emilio turned his head half way around.
"Si, amigo! You have a family — a girl wife and a httle son. I have nobody. I come, I go. I need none of all this money."
"I could not take your job." When Emilio shook his head, the sombrero flopped. Once more he straightened up and turned his wise smile on Lalo. His small eyes glittered. Rosa edged closer to the door to hear. "Rosa would not like to be alone," he said.
"Madre de Dios, I swear she will not be alone! I, Lalo, will guard her and the boy while you are gone." Rosa watched his bare feet squirm on the hard soil. The brown toes stretched and curled.
"Too much, amigo!" Emilio glanced behind him through the door, but Rosa busied herself with the tortillas at the little stove. "We still have beans. We have corn meal for tortillas. My little wife is thrifty and clever, too. Last winter she made a serape and sold it to Mr. Otro for much money. There is yet some left. Mr. Otro brings gifts of meat, fruit and greens — many, many things. — No, Lalo, I must not take this job. I have too much!"
"Santissima, — would you turn me into a selfish pig, viejo?" Lalo made a face. "A pig with a greedy snout — no, amigo! You need much, very much, to feed your son. He must grow big and strong."
Rosa hugged the baby close. Her trembling lips sought its neck.
"Si," Emilio sighed, "si, si. The boy must grow big and strong. I had not thought of that."
"Then go quick to Mr. Otro and