buying there, even though its prices were high and its goods of
poor quality, because they did not have money to spend anywhere
else.

When the thinning was done, they must begin all over again,
working with the short-handled hoes, cutting out any extra
plants, loosening the ground. By that time they were more used to
the work; and in July came a rest time, when all they needed to
do was to turn the waters of the big ditch into the little
ditches that crinkled between the rows. It was lucky there was
irrigation water, or the growing plants would have died in the
heat, since there had been little rain.


Rose-Ellen loved to watch the water moving through the fields as
if it were alive, catching the rosy gold of sunset in its zigzag
mirrors. She missed the Eastern fireflies at night; otherwise
the evenings were a delight. Colorado sunsets covered the west
with glory, and then came quick coolness. Dry as it was, the
cottonwood leaves made a sound like refreshing rain, and the
cicadas hummed comfortably. All the Beechams stayed outside till
far into the night, for the chicken-house was miserably hot at
the end of every day.

"The Garcias' and Martinezes' houses are better if they are mud
and haven't any shade," Rose-Ellen told Grandma. "The walls are
so thick that inside they're like cool caves."

She and Dick had made friends in the Mexican village with Vicente
Garcia and her brother Joe, and with Nico Martinez, next door to