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The wooden house just could not keep out the heat as the thick brownstone walls of New York had done. And, Caroline reflected, when it was hot in New York, it was never as hot as this, and she had never before had to be active in such temperatures. But Magpie’s composure and Hutch’s exhortation to her at new year were at work upon Caroline’s mind; so one day, which dawned slightly overcast and a little cooler than usual, she decided to get out of the house. She packed a basket with a newly ripe melon, some biscuits and a bottle of tonic water, tied the ribbon of her sun bonnet in a bow beneath her chin, and set off for the nearest neighboring farm, which belonged to an Irish family called Moore. It was six miles to the northwest and Caroline, who had no idea what it felt like to walk six miles, had nonetheless overheard Corin say that a man might easily walk four miles in an hour. Setting off early, she thought, she would be there in time to take coffee and maybe a bite of lunch, and then back again in plenty of time to help cook dinner. She told Magpie where she was going, and squared her shoulders when the Ponca girl gave her a level, incredulous stare and blinked slowly, like an owl.

She walked for an hour, at first admiring the flowers on the horsemint and wild verbena and gathering a posy to present to the Moores, but soon found the basket a dead weight on her arm, bruising her skin. She was slick with sweat in spite of the clouds, and felt it prickling her scalp underneath her hat. Her skirts were fouled up and wadded together with sandburs and thistle barbs, and they swung ponderously around her legs, tripping her. The sandy ground, which undulated gently, pulled at her feet and was more strenuous to walk across than she’d thought. She battled slowly up a long rise, certain that from the crest of it she would see the neighboring farm. She could not. Breathing hard, she saw the landscape roll away into the distance, as far as the eye could see. Putting the basket down, she turned in a slow circle, staring into the unbroken horizon. A hot wind blew, making waves in the long grass that looked, in the distance, like a green and gold ocean. The wind carried the scent of dry earth and sagebrush and it moaned a low note in her ears.

“There’s nothing here,” Caroline murmured to herself. Something rose up in her then, something like panic, or anger. “There’s nothing here!” she shouted, as loudly as she could. Her throat felt raw and dry. The wind snatched her words away, and gave her no answer. She sank onto the prairie and lay back to rest. An endless sky above her, and endless land all around. If she did not rise again, she thought, if she stayed where she was, only wild dogs and buzzards would ever find her. It was an irresistible thought, a terrifying one.

Walking back at last, having never reached the Moore’s place, Caroline nearly missed the ranch. She had veered to the north by a mile or more and only happened by chance to see smoke rising from the chuck hut to her right, where a silent Louisiana Negro called Rook would be cooking dinner for the ranch hands. Turning south, Caroline’s legs wobbled with exhaustion. Her mouth was parched and her face, after a day in the harsh light and hot wind, was tight and stinging. Behind her she could feel the vastness of the prairie spreading out, watching, and beyond the ranch the grasslands stretched away to every point on the compass. The corrals, fences, wheat and sorghum fields her husband had mapped onto the land were pitifully small. The ranch was an island, a tiny atoll of civilization in an endless patchy sea, and when she finally reached the house, gasping for breath and scattering wilted flowers behind her, she shut the door and burst into tears.

That night Caroline lay awake, in spite of her exhaustion. The clouds cleared as night fell, and the moon rose luminously full. It was not this that kept her awake, but the knowledge, the new understanding of how vast and empty the land she now lived upon truly was. She felt swallowed up by it; tiny, invisible. She wanted to grow, to expand, to take up more space somehow. She wanted to be significant. The air inside the bedroom was smothering, thick with the lassitude of summer. Beside her, Corin snored softly, his face pressed into the pillow, arms flung out to his sides. The moon caught the contours of the muscles in his arms and shoulders, and the sharp line where the tan of his neck became the pale of his back. Caroline rose, took a spare blanket and went outside.

She spread the blanket among the fecund orbs of the watermelons and lay down upon it. Something scuttled away into the foliage close to her face, and she shuddered. There were no other sounds, though her ears strained to pick up any movement from the bunkhouse, any sign of an approaching ranch hand. Then she pulled her nightdress up until it covered only her breasts, leaving the lower portion of her body bare to the night sky. Her hipbones stood proud, casting shadows of their own in the silvery light. Her heart beat fast in her chest, and she did not shut her eyes. Stars scattered the sky. She began to count them, lost her place and started again, and again; losing all idea of how long she had lain there and where on earth she was. Then the door banged behind her and she heard uneven steps, and Corin grabbed her beneath her arms and pulled her into his lap.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Caroline gasped. Painted in grays and blacks, Corin’s face was pinched with fear and his eyes were wide. Seeing her awake and well Corin let her go, exhaling heavily, and put his face into his hands.

“What are you doing out here?” he mumbled. “Are you all right?”

“I’m… fine. I just… it was so hot in the bedroom…” Caroline hurriedly pulled her nightdress down.

“But it’s just as hot out here! What are you doing-why were you naked?” he demanded. Alarmed, Caroline saw that he was shaking. She bit her lip and looked away.

“Moonbathing,” she said.

“What?”

“I was moonbathing… Angie told me it might help,” Caroline said quietly. She had sneered inwardly at such superstition when their neighbor first mentioned it, but now it seemed she would try anything.

“Help with what? Love, you’re not making sense!”

“Help a woman to get pregnant. To lie with the moon shining on her body,” Caroline said, shamefacedly.

“And you believed her?”

“No, not really. Not really. It’s just… why aren’t I pregnant yet, Corin? It’s been over a year!” she cried. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand it either,” Corin sighed. “But I’m sure these things happen when they’re good and ready, that’s all. A year is not that long! You’re young and… it’s been a big upheaval for you, moving out here to be with me. It will happen love, please try not to worry.” He tipped her chin up with his fingertips. “Come back inside now.”

“Corin… why were you so afraid just now?” Caroline asked, as she rose stiffly to her feet.

“What? When?”

“Just now, when you found me out here. You looked so alarmed! Why? What did you think had happened?”

“There was a woman, on the other side of Woodward a couple of years ago… never mind. I just thought something might have happened to you. But you’re fine, and it’s nothing to worry about…” Corin reassured her.

“Tell me, please,” she pressed, sensing his reluctance. “What happened to the woman?”