The end of September and the beginning of October. That was the best time of the year. First, because it was a sign that the work was coming to an end and that the return to Texas would start. Also, because there was something in the air that the folks created, an aura of peace and death. The earth also shared that feeling. The cold came more frequently, the frosts that killed by night, in the morning covered the earth in whiteness. It seemed that all was coming to an end. The folks felt that all was coming to rest. Everyone took to thinking more. And they talked more about the trip back to Texas, about the harvests, if it had gone well or bad for them, if they would return or not to the same place next year. Some began to take long walks around the grove. It seemed like in these last days of work there was a wake over the earth. It made you think.

That’s why it wasn’t very surprising to see Don Trine take a walk by himself through the grove and to walk along the fields every afternoon. This was at the beginning, but when some youngsters asked him if they could tag along, he even got angry. He told them he didn’t want anybody sticking behind him.

“Why would he want to be all by himself, anyway?”

“To heck with him; it’s his business.”

“But, you notice, it never fails. Every time, why, sometimes I don’t even think he eats supper, he takes his walk. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?”

“Well, I reckon. But you saw how he got real mad when we told him we’d go along with him. It wasn’t anything to make a fuss over. This ain’t his land. We can go wherever we take a liking to. He can’t tell us what to do.”

“That’s why I wonder, why’d he want to walk by himself?”

And that’s how all the rumors about Don Trine’s walks got started. The folks couldn’t figure out why or what he got out of taking off by himself every afternoon. When he would leave, and somebody would spy on him, somehow or other he would catch on, then take a little walk, turn around and head right back to his chicken coop. The fact of the matter is that everybody began to say he was hiding the money he had earned that year or that he had found some buried treasure and every day, little by little, he was bringing it back to his coop. Then they began to say that when he was young he had run around with a gang in Mexico and that he always carried around a lot of money with him. They said, too, that even if it was real hot, he carried a belt full of money beneath his undershirt. Practically all the speculation centered on the idea that he had money.

“Let’s see, who’s he got to take care of? He’s an old bachelor. He ain’t never married or had a family. So, with him working so many years . . . Don’t you think he’s bound to have money? And then, what’s that man spend his money on? The only thing he buys is his bit of food every Saturday. Once in a while, a beer, but that’s all.”

“Yeah, he’s gotta have a pile of money, for sure. But, you think he’s going to bury it around here?”

“Who said he’s burying anything? Look, he always goes for his food on Saturday. Let’s check close where he goes this week, and on Saturday, when he’s on his errand, we’ll see what he’s hiding. Whadda you say?”

“Good ‘nuff. Let’s hope he doesn’t catch on to us.”

That week the youngsters closely watched Don Trine’s walks. They noticed that he would disappear into the grove, then come out on the north side, cross the road then cross the field until he got to the irrigation ditch. There he dropped from sight for a while, then he reappeared in the west field. It was there where he would disappear and linger the most. They noticed also that, so as to throw people off his track, he would take a different route, but he always spent more time around the ditch that crossed the west field. They decided to investigate the ditch and that field the following Saturday.

When that day arrived, the boys were filled with anticipation. The truck had scarcely left and they were on their way to the west field. The truck had not yet disappeared and they had already crossed the grove. What they found they almost expected. There was nothing in the ditch, but in the field that had been harrowed after pulling the potatoes they found a number of holes.

“You notice all the holes here? The harrow didn’t make these. Look, here’s some foot prints, and notice that the holes are at least a foot deep. You can stick your arm in them up to your elbow. No animal makes these kind of holes. Whadda you think?”

“Well, it’s bound to be Don Trine. But, what’s he hiding? Why’s he making so many holes? You think the landowner knows what he’s up to?”

“Naw, man. Why, look, you can’t see them from the road. You gotta come in a ways to notice they’re here. What’s he making them for? What’s he using them for? And, look, they’re all about the same width. Whadda you think?”

“Well, you got me. Maybe we’ll know if we hide in the ditch and see what he does when he comes here.”

“Look, here’s a coffee can. I bet you this is what he digs with.” “I think you’re right.”

The boys had to wait until late the following Monday to discover the reason for the holes. But the word had spread around so that everybody already knew that Don Trine had a bunch of holes in that field. They tried not to let on but the allusions they made to the holes while they were out in the fields during the day were very obvious. Everybody thought there had to be a big explanation. So, the youngsters spied more carefully and astutely.

That afternoon they managed to fool Don Trine and saw what he was doing. They saw, and as they had suspected, Don Trine used the coffee can to dig a hole. Every so often, he would measure with his arm the depth of the hole. When it went up to his elbow, he stuck in his left arm, then filled dirt in around it with his right hand, all the way up to the elbow. Then he stayed like that for some time. He seemed very satisfied and even tried to light a cigarette with one hand. Not being able to, he just let it hang from his lips. Then he dug another hole and repeated the process. The boys could not understand why he did this. That was what puzzled them the most. They had believed that, with finding out what it was he did, they would understand everything. But it didn’t turn out that way at all. The boys brought the news to the rest of the folks in the grove and nobody there understood either. In reality, when they found out that the holes didn’t have anything to do with money, they thought Don Trine was crazy and even lost interest in the whole matter. But not everybody.

The next day one of the boys who discovered what Don Trine had been up to went by himself to a field. There he went through the same procedure that he had witnessed the day before. What he experienced and what he never forgot was feeling the earth move, feeling the earth grasp his fingers and even caressing them. He also felt the warmth of the earth. He sensed he was inside someone. Then he understood what Don Trine was doing. He was not crazy, he simply liked to feel the earth when it was sleeping.

That’s why the boy kept going to the field every afternoon, until one night a hard freeze came on so that he could no longer dig any holes in the ground. The earth was fast asleep. Then he thought of next year, in October at harvest time, when once again he could repeat what Don Trine did. It was like when someone died. You always blamed yourself for not loving him more before he died.