At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice was to ride into town for a bath and shave. Maybe even buy some new clothes and eat a good meal before spending as much time as we could at Mabel's. I never mentioned this to Gus, but I wanted to buy something nice for the young blonde one I'd been with last - Bess or Beth - I couldn't remember her name, I just remembered taking a liking to her. As the evil oil continue to spurt and ooze from the earth, our notions of how to spend became a bit more practical. A home. A good young horse. Some land. All the comforts we'd wished we'd had since we were kids. It was around the time that our minds had latched onto the idea of travelling, of seeing big cities and foreign countries, that we noticed the change. First, it was the smell. We'd heard about wells turning, how the smell of rotten eggs meant something wasn't right. They called it "sour gas." But Gus was pretty sure the oil could still work, that we could get the smell out. So we wore pieces of the old blanket wrapped around our faces to keep out the smell. After awhile, it didn't smell like rotten eggs. It smelt worse. It reminded me of the time I found the old shack up in the hills. I was only 12 and the idea of discovering a place I could call my own hunting cabin was all the excitement I needed to barge right on in. I smelled him before I saw him, the old man. It was the first time I saw a dead body. And that smell stuck with me. I didn't mention that to Gus though. He was hell bent on being rich and there was nothing going to keep him from that. It wasn't until the derrick jammed and we had to pull everything apart that he began to question things too. When we finally got the sucker rod up and out of the well, there was hair everywhere.
