Even Gunther seemed bored, and she’d not thought this possible. Had always thought of Gunther as the type who could shut down his nominal higher brain functions and outstare a lizard until it crawled away in defeat. High noon on Monday, as they simmered behind the wheel of a Cadillac going nowhere. The town of Brady simmered along with them. Somewhere here in mid-Texas they’d exchanged the dry heat of the southwest for something heavier, wetter. “Give me that fan,” she said. “Your turn’s up.” “Five more minutes,” Gunther pleaded. “Come on, we got to keep me cooled down. I get too hot and infection might set in.” “The heat’s not going to infect your eye. You’re just being selfish. Now give me that fan.” With a huff, he offered it. A silly-looking thing, all white plastic, not even the size of a coffee mug, but it put out a solid breeze. An adapter cord plugged it into the Cadillac’s cigarette lighter. With the clothespin-like swivel on the bottom, Madeline clamped it to the steering wheel and turned it on herself.
