He had heard others at the feed store talking about the election. The feeling had been pretty general that if Grover Cleveland got elected president, there would be bad times for sure. Well, Cleveland was elected, and these were bad times.

Ed Swanson felt somehow cheated. He hadn’t voted for Cleveland. In fact, he hadn’t voted at all. Voting was intimidating, and he didn’t feel competent to make important political decisions, like choosing a president. Even back in his school days he’d never been one to ask questions or volunteer to answer any. He was a good student, but a quiet one, who knew there were a lot of things beyond him.

Now, the one thing he did know for sure was something had to change, and soon. Marie was due to have their third child, and they had already been skimping with only two. This time, they’d have to take a chance and not have the doctor out. Maybe Lily Waddel, the midwife, would come out anyway on a promise to pay. But, knowing Marie, she wouldn’t let him make any promises he might not be able to keep. Well, he’d brought calves into the world. Babies shouldn’t be so much different.

The problem was there wasn’t enough money to see them through the summer, never mind fall and winter. He’d discussed it with Marie and, reluctantly, they’d begun talking about selling the farm. But Ed was too scared to tell her what the neighbor farms were bringing on the market. The only buyers were some big insurance companies, and they didn’t bid against each other. The Wades, two pieces down, had barely gotten enough out of the sale to move their belongings to her folks’ house in Illinois. When he hinted at what might happen, Marie just smiled and said, “The Lord will provide.”

If only it would rain. He looked up at the sky. Not a drop for six weeks. The wheat was showing the effects. If the rain didn’t come in the next week or so, it would really all be hopeless.

The only good news was the final arrival of the check for the spring calves. Twenty dollars! Maybe with the calf money, and if he could get a dollar a day working on one of the big farms, and if the heat wave broke, and if they got at least one good rain, and if the birth wasn’t complicated, then maybe—just maybe—they’d make it through until fall. He didn’t even want to think any further into the future.

Marie was baking bread with the last of the flour. Sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of strong black coffee after having finished the morning chores, Ed watched his wife as she put the loaves into the oven. Small beads of perspiration lined her forehead. Her long blonde hair, now tied in a bun, hung heavy above her slender neck.

He felt an ache in his chest as he saw the lovely girl he’d married just now barely showing the outline of their coming child. If anything, she was more beautiful than ever. Marie turned to catch him watching her, and the color rose in her cheeks. Whatever they were to face together, Marie was convinced her Ed was the best husband in the world, that she in turn was the luckiest woman in the world.

Ed rose, kissed her and told her he would have to go into town to cash the check and buy groceries for the week. Marie kissed him back. Her smile made him smile, in spite of himself. For a moment he wished he had the strength of her faith, then decided faith was fine, but sometimes it was tested to the limit. He was afraid his limit had been reached.

Riding into town, he looked up at the sky a dozen times. Clouds were gathering as though to mock him. Time after time in the past six weeks, the clouds had filled the sky, promising rain then, shrugging off their promises, they slipped away over the horizon to leave the blazing summer sun behind.

The worst part of the day wasn’t the recurring wish for rain when none came, but the trip to the bank and the need to deal with the cashier. His name was Wilber Vogel. Wilber had long ago decided he was far superior to any of the other townspeople, except perhaps for the bank president, and certainly far, far superior to the overall-clad farmers who splattered manure from their boots in the marble lobby.

Nowhere did Wilber show more contempt, without putting it into those words, than when one of those farmers came in to cash a check. He made it a point never to recognize them. “Do you have an account here?” was his first and invariable question. Even the poorest of farmers managed to maintain the dollar minimum required for an account—something Wilber was well aware of. But the ritual had to be performed.

Today, even though faced with a long line of customers, Wilber still went through his standard routine. “Next! “Do you have an account here? I’ll have to have this item approved by the manager. Next! Your endorsement is illegible. Next!”

Ed worked his way slowly along the queue, finally arriving at the window and presenting the check. “Do you have an account here?” Ed nodded, but Wilber had been looking at the check. “I asked you, do you have an account here?”

“Yes,” Ed answered in an almost inaudible voice.

Wilber glared and slammed the money down in front of him. “Next!” Ed only knew he wanted to get away as fast as possible. Scooping up the cash, he almost ran out of the bank.

He didn’t even take time to count the bills until he reached the sidewalk. “One, two, five, ten, twenty,” he shook his head in disbelief and looked at the bills in his hand. Wilber had misread the check. The money came to two hundred dollars. There was only one thing to do. Return it immediately.

The queue was shorter. So was Wilber’s temper. Ed started to explain, as he held out the cash for inspection. “You made a mistake, you. . . .”

The interruption was quick and final. With a gesture of dismissal Wilber said, “We do not make mistakes in this bank. If you had any questions, you should have asked when you were here before. Next!”

Pushed aside by the farmer behind him, who didn’t want to bear any of the brunt of Wilber’s bad temper, Ed left the bank in bewilderment, going home without even stopping for groceries.

Marie, sitting across from him at the kitchen table, listened carefully to his explanation of what had happened.

Finally, Ed said, “There must be some way I can get the money back to the bank. It’s not ours. It belongs to them.”

Marie leaned forward and took his face in both of her hands, saying, “No, Ed, it belongs to us.

Wilber told you the bank doesn’t make mistakes. Besides, I’ve been praying to the Lord for weeks now, and I knew He’d come through. He gave us the money. It’s ours,” she declared with finality.

“Besides, listen!”

For the first time Ed became aware of the rain on the roof. Big, rich drops. It was going to be a downpour.