considered the God who created this glorious sunshine: who ladled out his blessings on the just and the unjust alike, and he cared little to know in which group he belonged. As his eyes swept the valley, he glanced again down the dry brown path, and this time he saw Zeke stomping up through the dust. The old rifle slung over his shoulder seemed strangely out of place. To Sug, Zeke looked a mite disturbed, so he sat down on the step to wait for him. Wasn't any use going down the road to meet troubles. The gun bearer strode along with long determined strides that quickly brought him to the edge of Amanda's garden. He carefully stepped over the cabbage rows and then the melons, until only the tall corn separated him from Sug. "You sic'd my dog on the cows again, didn't ya?" Zeke hollered. "Well, Zeke ah-they were eatin' Mandy's garden." "Ya, know, you could fix that fence, ya lazy-" Sug bristled a little and replied: 'Ain't no need me fixin' it, when the dog does such a fine job gettin* the cows out." "Don't reckon yer gonna' fix that fence ever, are ya'? Don't reckon yer gonna' quit teachin' my dog to run the cows neither. Don't reckon any use to tell ya again 'bout how bad them cows is gettin' ta' look, now that ya' got him started." Zeke shook his head. Sug didn't answer. "Not much," he smiled," they're 'yer cows." Zeke glared in contempt, then raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired. Sug slumped down on the step. That was the way Amanda buried him. Her tears rained down on the fresh turned earth and through them she saw the gaping hole in the fence just beyond. She wondered why she had never fixed it. Something stubborn gets into a woman about doing a man's work, when she's got a man. 22 MIRACLE Sergio Perkins I'll drink his water not his wine. His wine tastes better than his water, but soon I would spill it on my collar and be drunk, singing while I see wine stains on my clothes. I like singing, but soon I would spill warm wine on his carpet and cover the design of a pink rose. "I'll drink your water not your wine." I say. He hands me wine and tells me to drink the water. I laugh "But this is wine," I tell him. He doesn't laugh, and I know the casks in his cellar are wine barrels empty of water. When my lungs are parched I swallow his wine. 23