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hour or so。 The reinforcements were kept fresh。 By mid…morning they were halfway to the front porch。 It was not a large house。
I was happy to retreat and stay out of the way。 The Mexicans worked so fast it seemed downright inefficient for me to take up a brush and stall the momentum。 Besides； the free labor was temporary。 The hour was soon approaching when I'd be left alone to finish the job。
My mother brought iced tea and cookies； but the painting did not stop。 Those under the shade tree with me ate first； then three of them changed places with the painters。
〃Do you have enough paint？〃 my mother whispered to me。
〃No ma'am。〃
She returned to the kitchen。
Before lunch； the west side was finished； a thick； shiny coat sparkling in the intermittent sun。 There was a gallon left。 I took Miguel to the east side； where Trot had begun a month earlier； and pointed up to an unpainted strip that I'd been unable to reach。 He barked some orders； and the crew moved to the opposite side of the house。
A new method was employed。 Instead of makeshift scaffolding； Pepe and Luis； two of the smaller ones； balanced themselves on the shoulders of Pablo and Roberto； the two heaviest ones； and began painting just below the roofline。 This； of course； drew an endless stream of ments and jokes from the others。
When the paint was gone； it was time to eat。 I shook hands with all of them and thanked them profusely。 They laughed and chattered all the way back to the barn。 It was midday； the sun was out； and the temperature was rising。 As I watched them walk away； I looked at the field beside the barn。 The floodwaters were in sight。 It seemed odd that the flood could advance when the sun was shining。
I turned and inspected the work。 The back and both sides of our house looked almost new。 Only the front remained unpainted； and since by now I was a veteran； I knew that I could plete the job without the Mexicans。
My mother stepped outside and said； 〃Lunchtime； Luke。〃 I hesitated for a second； still admiring the acplishment； so she walked to where I was standing； and together we looked at the house。 〃It's a very good job； Luke；〃 she said。
〃Thanks。〃
〃How much paint is left？〃
〃None。 It's all gone。〃
〃How much do you need to paint the front？〃
The front was not as long as the east or west side； but it had the added challenge of a porch； as did the rear。 〃I reckon four or five gallons；〃 I said； as if I'd been house painting for decades。
〃I don't want you to spend your money on paint；〃 she said。
〃It's my money。 Y'all said I could spend it on whatever I wanted。〃
〃True； but you shouldn't have to spend it on somethin' like this。〃
〃I don't mind。 I want to help。〃
〃What about your jacket？〃
I'd lost sleep worrying about my Cardinals jacket； but now it seemed unimportant。 Plus； I'd been thinking about another way to get one。 〃Maybe Santa Claus'll bring one。〃
She smiled and said； 〃Maybe so。 Let's have lunch。〃
Just after Pappy thanked the Lord for the food； saying nothing about the weather or the crops； my father grimly announced that the backwaters had begun trickling across the main field road into the back forty acres。 This development was absorbed with little ment。 We were numb to bad news。
The Mexicans gathered around the truck and waited for Pappy。 They each had a small sack with their belongings； the same items they'd arrived with six weeks earlier。 I shook hands with each one and said goodbye。 As always； I was anxious for another ride to town； even though this little trip was not a pleasant one。
〃Luke； go help your mother in the garden；〃 my father said as the Mexicans were loading up。 Pappy was starting the engine。
〃I thought I was goin' to town；〃 I said。
〃Don't make me repeat myself；〃 he said sternly。
I watched them drive away； all nine of the Mexicans waving sadly as they looked at our house and farm for the last time。 According to my father； they were headed to a large farm north of Blytheville； two hours away； where they would work for three or four weeks； weather permitting； and then go back to Mexico。 My mother had inquired as to how they would be shipped home； by cattle truck or bus； but she did not press the issue。 We had no control over those details； and they seemed much less important with floodwaters creeping through our fields。
Food was important； though： food for a long winter； one that would follow a bad crop； one in which everything we ate would e from the garden。 There was nothing unusual about this； except that there wouldn't be a spare dime to buy anything but flour； sugar； and coffee。 A good crop meant there was a little money tucked away under a mattress； a few bills rolled up and saved and sometimes used for luxuries like Coca…Cola's； ice cream； saltines； and white bread。 A bad crop meant that if we didn't grow it； we didn't eat。
In the fall we gathered mustard greens； turnips； and peas； the late…producing vegetables that had been planted in May and June。 There were a few tomatoes left； but not many。
The garden changed with each season； except for winter； when it was finally at rest； replenishing itself for the months to e。
Gran was in the kitchen boiling purple hull peas and canning them as fast as she could。 My mother was in the garden waiting for me。
〃I wanted to go to town；〃 I said。
〃Sorry； Luke。 We have to hurry。 Much more rain and the greens'll rot。 And what if the water reaches the garden？〃
〃They gonna buy some paint？〃
〃I don't know。〃
〃I wanted to go buy some more paint。〃
〃Maybe tomorrow。 Right now we have to get these turnips out of the ground。〃 Her dress was pulled up to her knees。
She was barefoot with mud up to her ankles。 I'd never seen my mother so dirty。 I fell to the ground and attacked the turnips。 Within minutes I was covered in mud from head to foot；
I pulled and picked vegetables for two hours； then cleaned them in the washtub on the back porch。 Gran carried them into the kitchen； where they got cooked and packed away in quart jars。
The farm was quiet…no thunder or wind； no Spruills in the front or Mexicans out by the barn。 We were alone again； just us Chandlers； left to battle the elements and to try to stay above water。 I kept telling myself that life would be better when Ricky came home because I'd have someone to play with and talk to。
My mother hauled another basket of greens to the porch。 She was tired and sweating； and she began cleaning herself with a rag and a bucket of water。 She couldn't stand to be dirty； a trait she had been trying to pass along to me。
〃Let's go to the barn；〃 she said。 I hadn't been in the loft in six weeks； since the Mexicans had arrived。
〃Sure；〃 I said； and we headed that way。
We spoke to Isabel； the milk cow； then climbed the ladder to the hayloft。 My mother had worked hard to prepare a clean place for the Mexicans to live。 She had spent the winter collecting old blankets and pillows for them to sleep on。 She had taken a fan； one that for years had found good use on the front porch； and placed it in the loft。 She had coerced my father into running an electrical line from the house to the barn。
〃They're humans； regardless of