The last Saturday in April was one of those days so beautiful a person didn"t know whether to sing or shout. Spratt, Beaners, and Lefty had gone into town to get a new telephone to replace the broken relic we had at the ranch because it screeched whenever someone picked up the receiver. Beaners had purchased a new dress pattern for me, so she wanted to pick up some fabric as well. “Pale yellow,” I requested, imagining that my new outfit would make me look like Natalie Wood with blonde hair and blue eyes—and TJ would no longer think of me as a child. (Imagination had always been my best friend.)
As soon as they left, I regretted staying home from our regular Saturday excursion and was feeling lonely for not having anyone to share the day with. Uncle Arty, who normally arose early, was stil
