Texas Summer Read Online Free PDF

on a hand gnarled and dark as wood, and gave Harold a narrow look. “Closed ’em down? Wal, I’ll tell you one thing, boy — you travel this wide world over, and wherever you find men, women, and money...you’re gonna find a whorehouse — and that is a goddam natural fack!”
    He looked from one to the other for affirmation. Harold’s father was ambivalent; he cleared his throat. “Well, Pa, things have changed a mite since...since then.”
    “Not that,” said the old man sharply. “That ain’t changed, that can’t never change.”
    “Oh, Grandpa,” said Harold’s mother, “don’t keep talkin’ so silly. Anyhow, Harold already has his eye on a girl. Isn’t that right, Son?”
    “Huh?” said Harold, in complete surprise.
    “Why that nice little Sara Jean Johnson,” said his mother, “the one you was in the school play with....She sure is a pretty thing.”
    Moving from the table to the sink, she stopped, turned, looked at the three of them, then past them into the distance, her face taking on the veiled radiance of fond recollection.
    “Do you know,” she said softly, “I can remember just as plain as day” — looking at Harold now — “the two of you standing there on the stage, when you handed her that bunch of bluebonnets...with the white summer dress and her big blue eyes shinin’...it was like she was a bunch of bluebonnets too...”
    Harold and his father regarded her curiously, while Grandfather resumed eating with gusto. And then his mother came out of her reverie to ask: “But you do like her, don’t you, Son?”
    “Why I ain’t even seen —” He corrected himself. “I habn’t even seen her since that play.”
    “Well,” said his mother with cheerful reassurance, “you’ll probably see her at one of the church socials. You have another look — she’s a mighty pretty little thing.”
    She turned back to the sink, and Grandfather leaned toward Harold. “Hell, I’ll find out if they’ve shut ’em down — an’ then I’ll tell you where they moved ’em to!”
    “Now, Pa,” said Harold’s father, “don’t go puttin’ him up to that — cost enough awready just keepin’ him in clothes, growin’ like a beanstalk.” He looked at Harold, as this thought took him to another concern. “Them huntin’ boots gonna take you through next winter, Son? Your toes touchin’ the end yet?”
    Harold was embarrassed at all the attention. “Aw, I think they’ll be okay.”
    “Well, I gotta pair of insulateds,” his father went on, “that’s just a might snug on me...probably fit you about right.”
    Harold’s mother came back over, continuing to clear away the table.
    “Why now those would be way too big for Harold,” she said. “Besides he don’t want old hand-me-down boots. Do you, Son?”
    “Hand-me-down hell,” said his father irately. “Them’s L. L. Bean’s. Cost me thirty-seven fifty...Why, they got five good years’ wear left in ’em. At the very least.”
    Grandfather slapped the table. “L. L. Bean! Now there’s a first-rate outfit if there ever was one! I had a pair of their insulateds lasted me twelve goddam years, hard wear, an’ that’s a fack!”
    “Well, even so,” said Harold’s mother, “everybody likes to have their own things...”
    “Well, damn it all,” said Grandfather suddenly to Harold, “what I want to know is more about that fifty-dollar calf! What’s he got — two tallywhackers? Ha!”
    “No,” said Harold, “but I think he’s got a whole lot of pure Hereford in ’im....Don’t you, Dad?”
    “Yep, mighty fine-lookin’ calf.”
    “An’ I’ll tell you somethin’ else,” said the old man. “Half-breed stock’ll never dress out prime. Not unless it’s grain-fed, an’ there ain’t nobody fool enough to do that, at today’s price of corn.”
    “Well, I’m gonna raise ’im good,” said Harold, “an’ enter ’im in the stock show next year...” He smiled shyly. “Maybe win us a ribbon, who