They fought over saddles, over .22 rifles, over rabbits they would shoot. Rabbits, you see, proliferated as the dust cut the land into nothing. Nothing but rabbits. First time I spoke to him, his wife said, hold on he’s got to get his ears on. Rabbits. His son became a surgeon. And everyone had opinions about the times they had met the boy. I didn’t know any of them. I only knew the one guy, who got saddle sores every summer down there in Texas so he never rode a goddamned horse again. He drove.
