Year of the Jackpot 25

"Just try me."
Two hours later Breen was standing on the hogback,
smoking a cigarette, and staring off down to the west. He
wondered if that was a mushroom cloud up San Francisco
way? Probably his imagination, he decided, in view of the
distance. Certainly there was nothing to be seen to the
south.
Meade came out of the cabin. "Pottyl"
"Up here."
She joined him, took his hand, and smiled, then snitched
his cigarette and took a deep drag. She expelled it and said,
"I know it's sinful of me, but I feel more peaceful than I
have in months and months."
"I know."
"Did you see the canned goods in that pantry? We could
pull through a hard winter here."
"We might have to."
"I suppose. I wish we had a cow."
"What would you do with a cow?"
"I used to milk four cows before I caught the school bus,
every morning. I can butcher a hog, too."
"I'll try to find one."
"You do and III manage to smoke it." She yawned. "I'm
suddenly terribly sleepy."
"So am 1. And small wonder."
"Let's go to bed."
"Uh, yes. Meade?"
"Yes, Potty?"
"We may be here quite a while. You know that, don't
you?"
"Yes, Potty."
"In fact it might be smart to stay put until those curves all
start turning up again. They will, you know."
"Yes. I had figured that out."
He hesitated, then went on, "Meade . . . will you marry
me?"
"Yes." She moved up to him.
After a time he pushed her gently away and said, "My
dear, my very dear, uhwe could drive down and find a
minister in some little town?"
She looked at him steadily. "That wouldn't be very
bright, would it? I mean, nobody knows we're here and
that's the way we want it. And besides, your car might not
make it back up that road."
"No, it wouldn't be very bright. But I want to do the right
thing."