Previously in the book: West Texas farm boy Harley Sadler grew up to be a successful traveling tent showman with his wife Billie and daughter Gloria. When the Depression hit, he risked all he had on a costly Alamo play during the Texas Centennial celebration in Dallas. He lost everything.

The air was thick and humid in the tent under palm trees in Rio Grande Valley on the outskirts of Brownsville. Harley sweated so much that it soaked through his Toby cowboy costume. He blinked repeatedly to keep the sweat from rolling from his forehead into his eyes which would sting from the salty solution. Harley had not felt this uncomfortable since he hoed weeds on his family farm, but he was not letting the audience know that. Grinning broadly, he grabbed the hands of the actors playing the hero and villain, raised them high then bowed deep. He lowered his eyes, as all good actors did to humble themselves before their audiences.
“Ole!”
“Bravo!”
The capacity crowd was on its feet, applauding and waving their hats. Sam leaned into Harley. “You’re a hit.”
“They can’t understand a word we’re saying,” Harley whispered nervously.
“They don’t have to,” Sam replied. “You’re lovable in any language.”
After the tent emptied two Mexican-American gentlemen in business suits approached Harley and Sam.
“Mr. Sadler, thank you for bringing your show to town. It was very good. I like Toby very much. He is very funny,” one of them said.
“Muchas gracias,” Harley said, nodding and smiling.
“Si, gracias,” Sam repeated.
“We get so little entertainment down here in the Valley. My friends here is from Roma Los Sains, up the Rio Grande from Brownsville. He’d like you to bring your show to his town.”
“We’d be happy to add his town to our schedule,” Harley said. “And any others that will have us.”
The second businessman continued to speak enthusiastically in Spanish, then the first one translated, “He says all the towns along the river will want to see the great Harley Sadler.”
“Gracias.” Harley bowed in appreciation.
“Si. Gracias.” Sam leaned into Harley to whisper, “Mucho dinero.”
“Sshh.”
***
Back in the Sadler home in Sweetwater several months later, Billie sat on the sofa with her legs tucked up under her dress, looking out the front window. Harley was due back today. The house had seemed so lonely to her. Of course, Gloria was there, but the teen-ager had her friends and all the activities involved with being a senior in high school. She did not have time to stay home and hold her mother’s hand.
Billie attended church regularly but that did not seem to help much. All they wanted to talk about was Harley.
“How did he like it in South Texas?”
“Did people love him as much as they did on the Plains?”
“When was he coming home?”
That was the question on Billie’s mind. When would he finally come home? When would she be able to slip into bed and hear his soft breathing next to her? Maybe if he were home she would not be tempted to sneak a pint of whiskey into the house, just to calm her nerves so she could go to sleep.
Looking around to see if Gloria were about to enter the room, Billie pulled out her small bottle for a quick sip. That was all she needed, just a taste to take the edge off of the anticipation of Harley’s homecoming.
“Mama! Do you see Daddy yet?” Gloria called out as she rounded the corner from the hall.
Billie stashed the bottle under a throw pillow.
“He said it would be late afternoon—“Gloria stopped in mid-sentence, a cloud covering her normally cheerful face. “Oh, Mama. I thought you were doing better.”
“It’s been a long time since your father went down to the Valley.” She sat up, her legs returning to the floor. Her eyes went down as her hands smoothed out wrinkles in the skirt.
“I know it’s been hard on you.” Gloria sat on the sofa next to her mother, giving her a hug.
“I don’t know why love has to hurt so much.” Tears filled Billie’s eyes.
A car horn tooted from the driveway. Both of them looked toward the door. Gloria stuck her hand out. “That’s him. Give me the bottle. I’ll throw it out.”
Billie numbly pulled the bottle from beneath the pillow and gave it to her daughter who ran into the kitchen. Harley opened the front door and put down his suitcase.
“Billie! Honey! I’ve missed you so much!”
She went to him and they kissed. Gloria appeared from the kitchen.
“Daddy!”
Harley pulled away from Billie, licking his lips. He continued to stare at her as Gloria threw her arms around his waist.
“Do you worship and adore me?” she asked in her best melodramatic tone.
“I worship and adore you.” But he continued to stare at Billie.
***
That summer Harley, back in full regalia as Toby, stepped out on a new stage in a tent with velvet curtains and golden tassels. As he smiled broadly, his West Texas loyal audience gave him a standing ovation.
“Friends, we have had our troubles, just the same as other business have had. Our show is not as big as it once was, but we are trying just as hard as ever to please you. You helped us to grow before; if you will help us now, we can grow again.”
In the audience was the same farmer who brought his girlfriend to Harley’s shows when he was a young man. The farmer and his wife were now older. They applauded as loud as ever. The audience, though smaller, still laughed at all the right places and jumped to their feet when Harley and his family took their final bows. Billie beamed as brightly as before but if anyone looked closer, they would have noticed her eyes were empty. After the tent and the last hand was shaken and the last autograph signed, Harley retreated to the men’s dressing room. He took a huge glob of cleansing cream and swathed his face. Billie hesitantly entered and walked to his table.
“Good show tonight, Billie.”
“I haven’t had a drink since you got home,” she announced, a statement which seemed to come out of nowhere.
Harley detected a tremble in her voice. He stood and hugged her. “I didn’t think you had, but I was afraid to believe it.”
“I think I can really stay away from it now.” She nodded, trying to be brave.
Harley sat to continue removing his makeup. “Good.”
“With your help.”
Looking up, he smiled and said, “You know I’d do anything for you.”
“After we finish this tour,” she continued, her voice lowering a bit and taking on a monotone, “let’s take some time off. Gloria will be in college this fall. We can go on an extended vacation.” She took a deep breath. “We’ve never been to Europe.”
“Billie,” Harley began as he stood and put his hands on her shoulders, “we’ve just gotten back on our feet. We can’t afford anything like that.”
“Okay,” she replied as though she were haggling with a used car salesman, “not Europe. New England. I hear Cape Cod is beautiful—“
“No.” Harley cut her off softly but firmly. Beyond the flap to the dressing room he heard some voices.
Charlie’s voice cut through, “Mr. Sadler can’t be disturbed right now.”
“That’s all right, Charlie. Let them come in.”
“There’s more than one group,” he replied.
Harley heard a man say, “You may go first.” Another person, sounding familiar, said, “thank you.”
Burford Jones and another smartly attired gentleman entered the dressing room. Harley stood to shake their hands.
“Good to see you again, Burford. You remember my wife Billie.”
“Ma’am.” He nodded to her, who appraised him with suspicion. Burford returned his attention to Harley and pointed to his companion. “This is Billy Bob Holstetler.”
After shaking Billy Bob’s hand, he sat at his table. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I got to get this stuff off my face.”
“Harley,” Burford continued, “we want to try to convince you again to run for the Ledge.”
“We thought you might say yes this time,” Billy Bob added.
“Harley just doesn’t have time.” Billie stepped forward, trying to place herself between her husband and the politicians. “We’re getting this new show started—“
“You know,” Harley said reflectively, not realizing he had cut Billie off mid-sentence, “it’s always meant something to be to be among friends, where you don’t have to hire a pallbearer for your funeral.”
Burford and Billy Bob looked dumfounded at each other. They turned to Billie hoping for some explanation from her, but she just raised an eyebrow.
“And this politics thing is another way to make friends, isn’t it?” Harley asked. He was pleased to see the smiles on their faces, but Harley could not help but notice Billie looked hurt and then walked away.
As the politicians left, the other two men entered and introduced themselves as oilmen. They pitched their idea of Harley investing in drilling. He put on his slacks and buttoned his shirt.
“It’s a ground floor investment, Mr. Sadler.”
“Harley,” the showman corrected him.
“Oil is exactly what they say it is, Harley,” the second man said as he picked up the pitch. “And fortunes can be made overnight in the independent drilling business.”
“And lost,” Harley interjected. “I know all about wildcatting.”
“Yes, I know it’s risky,” the first man conceded. “It’s a gamble.”
Harley stopped to smile. “A gamble, huh? Well, I’ve never been one to walk away from a poker game.”
***
Billie and Gloria stood outside the tent waiting for Harley to appear.
“What’s taking him so long?” Gloria asked.
“First he was talking to those men about running for the legislature—“
“Oh good!” Gloria interrupted. “I think Daddy would be wonderful in government.”
“Charlie said the ones in there now are oil drillers.”
“Oh! That would be exciting!”
“Would it?” Billie asked sourly.
Gloria studied her mother’s troubled face. “What’s wrong, Mama?”
“Sometimes, no matter how much somebody loves you,” she explained with pain etched across her face,” they have to shut you out of their hearts to keep you from hurting them.”
“Mama, Daddy would never shut you out.” Gloria put her arm around her mother.
“I don’t think he even knows that’s what he’s doing.” Billie smiled sadly.
“No, Mama.”
“And the worst thing,” Billie paused to keep from crying, “I don’t blame him.”