The night was full of stars. No moon. His turn to guard the cattle grazing leased pasture land along the river.
He cruised the night roads slow. No lights. Rifle on the seat beside him. He followed the old road up to the CCC camp - already a ruin of rock walls. From here he could see the playa and the great red cliffs to the west and north. The expanse of his world stretching luminous under the stars. Nothing moved. A quiet night.
It was when he looked out to the road along the river that he saw something hard to recognize. Something white. Not a car. An animal?
So white. It drew closer. A human being. A woman. A woman in a white nightgown. His wife! His wife in the white nightgown she bought at the factory outlet place. She was walking fast, his old deer rifle to her shoulder, stopping to swing the barrel round the valley, then walking on.
``She must be sleep walking,'' he thought. He did not move. His wife passed by him on the road below. Something about her awed him. She had been so beautiful for a few years when she was young. Tall and slender and haughty. So beautiful. Then she married him and became tall and gaunt and severe. Now she appeared a goddess again, striding so boldly through the night. Black hair to the waist. Back like a ram rod. A goddess.
In the late morning when he awoke to coffee she looked at him as flat and distant as ever.
``Did you see them?'' she asked.
``Who?''
``Those Piedros Negros people. Had their truck up by the tank. Drove right by the house. I ran them off. Where were you?''
``All over. Up by the old CCC camp. Didn't see them.''
Dared he say it? He reached a hand to her cheek, ``You are a brave woman,'' he said.
``Or mad,'' he thought.