Chapter 37: Texas: September 1, 1939“Look, Grandma, it's Uncle Lorenz and he's bringing y'all flowers for your birthday! I'll go get a vase.”
Brigetta looked up from the table where she was enthroned in her wheelchair. At ninety-five, her hair was white and thinning, the lashes completely missing from her eyelids, but her eyes still worked well enough to watch as Lorenz approached. He was dressed in a dark grey western suit, his black boots shining beneath the dust, his grey Stetson carefully set on top of his iron grey hair. To her it looked like there was a great blob of white clutched in one hand, but she could see well enough that Lorenz was still walking upright, his broad shoulders swaying with the bowlegged walk of a man more accustomed to riding a horse than to walking, and why, s
