“Patsy? Darling where are you? Your papa is looking for you. Patsy! Patsy!” Corraleen shouted trying to find her seven year old daughter. She moved swiftly about the old tattered farmhouse with a firm and frightened expression upon her face.

“Here Mama! I’m Here!” Patsy shouted when her mother’s voice traveled loud enough for her small ears to hear. “Is everything alright Mama?”

“Don’t give me such a fright, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you,” Corraleen muttered quickly as if trying to catch her breath in an airless pit.

“Sorry for frighting you Mama, I was just at Thaddeus’s house looking at all the new fillies he just got last spring,” Patsy innocently announced knowing she had stirred up some mischief.

“Did you find her?” Vicente asked.

“Yes. Patsy told me that she was at Thaddeus’s ranch,” Corraleen answered.

“Thaddeus Ranch huh?” Vicente mumbled rubbing his fingers tightly on his cheeks.

“Vicente, it was only innocent, she meant no harm by it…” Corraleen said before getting cut-off by Patsy’s mouse-like voice.

“Papa I went to see the fillies that his mares birthed this past spring. There was another man there, a mean man, he was robbing him of his horses. He was taking them and he didn’t even pay him a dime,” Patsy squeaked. Corraleen looked at Vicente knowingly, as if she new something about the happenings at Thaddeus’s ranch. It only lasted a second, but it seemed as though they communicated a whole conversation without the actual movement of their lips.

At the exact instant that Corraleen and Vicente’s eyes repelled, a child’s cry echoed from down the hallway. It was Julio, the couple’s youngest addition to their family. About two years of age, the young boy was very vocal, very active and was always known to keep Corraleen on her toes.

“Julio is done napping, I should go tend to him,” Corraleen conjectured.

“As you should. I will go back out to the field and see what other crops I can harvest. Then I suppose I should go to market and see if there are any buyers,” Vicente reported.

Vicente did just that. He went out to the fields and saw that much of his crops were infested with nasty bugs trying to escape the dust continuously being swept away by the wind. He harvested what he could and threw it into the back of his small horse-pulled cart and rode off to market.

The market was opaque with dust. Vicente could barely see his dusty pale hands and the horses ears bowing up and down in the brown mist. At every common court there was ghostly silence. Stores were closed and no one was near. Vicente approached the next town only to find people pushing and shoving in front of the many banks. There was a sinister resonance here. The crowd huddled so close together that the mere death of a trying soul would not allow him to fall. It kept him upright, praying to be released. Screams of widows shattered Vicente’s eardrums as their spouse plummeted to their death. Abruptly, Vicente stopped his cart and rushed over to the angry mob of scared and worried people. He recognized one of them.

“Jerrold! Jerrold O’Brien! What is going on here? Has the whole town gone insane?” Vicente shouted above the clamor.

“The stock market in New York closed earlier this morning and now the banks say that all of our money is gone. Marybeth’s parents invested in some of the stocks there and lost everything. The bankers cant pay their debts and they cant pay us. Its all gone. Vicente. I cant pay my debts and if I have no cash I can’t feed my family. If I cant pay my debts I could end up dead. I owe a grand to Santiago Maroque. I have eight children and Marybeth is pregnant again. I cannot feed them with a dollar and eight cents,” Jerrold lamented. “My wife would not make a good widow Vinny,” he added placing his hand gently on his shoulder.

“Jerrold. If What you say is true, than there is no one to sell my crops to. You are welcome to what is in my wagon, my friend.” Vicente spoke with reservation. “I can house your family in my basement as well if that becomes necessary.”

“Bless you Vicente! Bless you! Your kindness will never be forgotten,” Jerrold grinned bowing to Vicente as a serf would his lord.

“No need for thanks Jerrold. It is a friendly gesture,” Vicente confided. Vicente appeared as if the reality of todays events did not sink in. He was absent-minded of the fact that the country has fallen into what is to be known as the great depression

“Noni tell me more!” A young girl sat eagerly by the fire trying to get her grandmother’s attention. “What happened to Jerrold and Great-Grandpapa Vicente?”

“Hmmn Yes,” Patsy said clearing her throat and adjusting her spectacles.

It was about six months into the depression, Vicente and Corraleen started to feel its grasp.

“All the crops are gone,” Vicente sighed adjusting his suspenders, sitting down at the dinning room table.

“The milk too, they aren’t delivering anymore,” Corraleen said as she poured the last of the milk in the small baby bottle.

“It wont be long until we loose electricity and heat,” Vicente whispered under his breath.

“What are we going to do about the children? They wont survive to the summer if they stay here,” Corraleen cried holding her small feminine hands over her mouth.

“Are you suggesting we send them away just like the Lees’? Vicente harshly snarled with a fierce growl beneath his tone of voice.

“We may have to, Vicente, we may have to,” Corraleen sighed letting her tears run down her face.

“You should go give that milk to Julio, so that he’ll go to sleep, I’ll go check on Princess,” Vicente mumbled.

“Hey there Princess, are you asleep?” Vicente said softly standing in her doorway.

“No not yet Papa, I cant sleep,” Patsy replied. Vicente sat gently at the end of her bed and leaned over to see her face.

“Why cant you sleep, is there a pea beneath your mattress?” Vicente smiled tickling patsy in the tummy.

“No,” Patsy giggled.

“Then why can’t this princess sleep?” Vicente grinned.

“I haven’t heard you sing,” Patsy grimaced.

“My voice is dry with dust,” Vicente replied rubbing his throat.

“Please sing me to sleep papa,” Patsy whined.

“Alright,”Vicente chuckled.

Patsy sank anxiously underneath her bed covers.

Vicente stated to sing “three little words” by The Duke Ellington. His beautiful voice hit every note as if he were the duke singing the tune.

“I know what you’re doing, I see it all too clear, I only taste the saline, when I kiss away your tears. You really had me going, wishing on a star, But the black holes that surround you, are heavier by far. I believed in your confusion, You were so completely torn, Well it must have been that yesterday, Was the day that I was born. There’s not much to examine, there’s not much to hide, You really cant be serious. If you really have to ask me why. I say Good-bye….” Vicente sang almost to the end of the song. He sang the tune so softly that Patsy fell quickly to sleep. Vicente leaned over her once more and tenderly kissed her on the forehead.

“I’ve always told you that you could make a career with a voice like that,” Corraleen laughed standing in the doorway. Vicente smiled and chuckled under his breath and walked out into the hallway. “I…um… called my aunt in California, she’s offered to take the children. She has money, she can keep them safe and well,” Corraleen added.

“No! I will not send my children away! I’ll get a job. I’ll get a job,” Vicente shouted, his voice breaking up into melancholy tones.

“A job in what? There are no jobs Vinny,” Corraleen argued.

“Singing, I’ll sing on every street from here to Chicago, Illinois if I have to. My children are not leaving this house,” Vicente bellowed.

“I’ll give you a month, that is all I can give Vinny. The children’s lives are at stake,” Corraleen said retreating to the bedroom. Vicente walked out the door and headed toward Baton Rouge in the old beat up Ford that had been sitting in the backyard since its purchase.

For Vicente everything seemed to move very quickly. It seemed that every second he spent trying to come up with all the different ways he could solve his current dilemma would ultimately fail him. He drove all night with every last teardrop forming a restless rainbow in his eyes. The street lights highlighted his face as he past each post. AS he drove faster it seemed like he was in on of the horror productions that on most occasions ended in tragedy and misfortune. Vicente found himself on the highway into hell itself.

Within the twenty-six hour drive, Vicente finally reached Baton Rouge. He walked out of that old ford wearing a dusty white shirt with a singular pocket on his breast and a dusty pair of navy blue slacks. There in his hands was a dusty yellow veteran guitar. A small youthful voice sounded from the back seat of the automobile.

“Patsy what are you doing here?” Vicente asked in great discomfort and alarm.

“I wanted to come with you. I don’t want to be given away Papa. I want to stay with you,” Patsy replied as innocently as she could. She arranged her face like a puppy would for food. A face she knew her father could never refuse.

“Fine, you can stay,” Vicente smiled lifting Patsy from the car. “Come on, You must be hungry.”

“mmhmn! What are we going to eat?” Patsy smiled delightfully rubbing her stomach.

Vicente took Patsy’s hand and walked across the street to Big Al’s, a local diner. Patsy’s mouth began to water when she saw the displays of the various types of pies that Al specialized himself in. There was blackberry pie, Strawberry pie, Lemon Marangue and peach cobbler. Then her eyes gazed up at the menu and he mouth watered ten times more. There was fried fish, fried chicken, Cajun fries and fried rice.

“Papa it all looks so delicious, what do I choose?” Patsy communicated licking the outer rim of her mouth, rubbing her rumbling stomach.

“I’ll surprise you, go grab a seat,” Vicente smiled rummaging through his wallet looking for some money.

“Ok,” Patsy replied skipping off to the nearest table.

“Can I take your order?” said Eugene, the man behind the counter.

“Yeah, um what can I get with eight cents?” Vicente asked nervously.

“A small shrimp gumbo,” Eugene replied.

“I’ll take it,” Vicente said laying down his money.

“Anything else?” Eugene asked.

“No,” Vicente sighed.

“Ok, we’ll bring it to your table when it is done,” Eugene responded.

“Thank you,” Vicente smiled taking his receipt and walking toward the table that Patsy picked out.

“What did you get me?” Patsy asked anxiously awaiting her meal.

“The shrimp gumbo, I hope you like it,” Vicente smiled fixing a napkin to act as a bib upon Patsy’s chest. Vicente made a perch with his hands to support his head.

“What’s wrong papa?” Patsy asked.

“Nothing is wrong princess I am just a little tired from driving all night is all,” Vicente answered.

“Here’s your order,” Eugene said placing the gumbo down on the table.

Patsy ate her meal rather quickly not wasting any time. She did not think to ask why Vicente did not eat. “Maybe he’s not hungry,” she thought.

“Hey Papa?” Pasty said getting Vicente’s attention.

“Yes, Princess?” Vicente said looking up.

“Why did you leave home?” Patsy asked curiously.

“I… came here to sing, my sweet princess,” Vicente replied embarrassed of the full truth.

“Can I Sing with you Papa?” Patsy asked with excitement.

“I will be delighted if you did,” Vicente responded.

A week later Patsy and Vicente were signed up to perform at the Old Corral Theater. The place was full of people they didn’t know. Vicente started to get jittery and nauseous.

“Patsy I don’t know if I can do this,” Vicente whined.

“Papa we can do this, you’ve sang at parties, just imagine its one big party,” Patsy comforted.

“Ok… Ok I think that might just work. Thank you Princess,” Vicente said as he kissed Patsy on the head.

“You guys are on,” the stagehand signaled them to enter the stage.

“This is it,” Vicente smiled shaking his hands as if to jump rope.

“Up next we have a special treat for the audience! A Father and his daughter performing right here at old corral! Here they are Patsy and her Papa!” Shouted the announcer.

Patsy wrote her own song for the performance, with creative help from Vicente. It had a light acoustic guitar beat. Bum, dee dum, ba dee, bum. She called it “Tender voice wont you Sing me to Sleep”

“As day fades to night, I seat myself in my bed counting sheep and humming soft tunes,” Patsy sang.

“Why cant you sleep my dear,” Vicente sang.

“Monsters and nightmare keep me awake and fearful.” Patsy continued.

“Can’t I help you sleep my dear,” Vicente added.

“Tender voice wont you sing me to sleep,” Patsy sings.

“Oooh, Ahhh, Deee, Oooh, Ahhh, Deee,” Vicente harmonized.

They repeated the first verse until the song ended. Witch was only about three verses. It was an instant hit! The crowd cheered so loud that Patsy felt it necessary to cover her ears.

“Hi my name is Earle Delasio from Bayou entertainment. With that talent you can have a real career, and that is a mighty offer in this economy. Think about it. Here’s my card,” A man in a nice purple and black striped suit and hat approached the singers.

Vicente and Patsy took up the offer and they made quite a living off of performing together. They moved Corraleen and Julio to Baton Rouge, then Chicago, and eventually New York city. With all the money and cheerful sining Vicente forgot all about the depression, it did not exist anymore in his new reality.

Corraleen and Vicente later divorced due to the arguments that continued to surface.

When Julio aged enough to sing, he joined Patsy and her Papa.