What brings you all the way out here

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an through the fal-
low f eldssome barely old enough to staggerothers in their teenssome with
baseballs and glovesothers apparently running for the sheer hell of it. Ruth’s
mother was hanging washing on the lineand two old men sat on the long
front porch in rocking chairs. Ruth herself was perched on a child’s swing at
the side of the housewatching her cousinGreg Vaughanlead his dog through
a routine of tricks.
Robert parked in a f eld adjacent to the housenext to a collection of
old and new pickup trucksRuth’s Buickan ancient Packardand a ’
57
Studebaker with headlights like jet intakes and a rocket body that ended in
tail f ns.
When Ruth saw him she ran up and hugged him and gave him a smacking
theatrical kiss. “What a nice surprise yilai:
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To arri! What brings you all the way out here?”
Robert shrugged. Greg eyed him suspiciouslyand his doga big-chested
German Shepherdgrowled and looked ready to attack. Greg was in high
school nowtall and ganglyhis hair cut so short it had no apparent color. He
wore faded blue jeans with iron-on patches over the kneesa white T-shirtand
high-topped basketball sneakers. “Greg” Robert said formally.
“Mr. Cooper.”
“Your dog doesn’t seem to like me.”
“Funny about that. U