She liked men; at least some of them. She knew she wanted to be loved by a man; a good man. A gentle man. At times she craved their affection like she had a hunger inside her; she wanted to be in a gentle man's arms. She wanted to be in bed with a man who would truly love her and be in love with her, for herself and not just for her body.
She wondered, why can't men be men without being so infernally superior about it? And why do some, like Chet Armstrong, behave like animals and not men? Despite it all, she still believed Ivanhoe was out there for her. She thought that in Paul Riordan she had come close to having him. She still would find the man for her. She would not give up on that dream.
Buck's snoring as he fell asleep reassured Barbara that at times, men were like babies. When they were asleep.
"Where can I get paint and nails and some lumber without paying for them, at least right away?" she asked.
Edna had the answer: "There's no store for those things in Mohave. But Moose Mondrowski in Tehachapi has everything in those lines. He won't give you credit, though. He only deals in cash or trades. Got anything he'd trade for, besides yourself? He's as busy in bedrooms as jackrabbits are in the bush around here."
Barbara thought about that, driving to Tehachapi the next morning. When she got there, she found that the town was not much bigger than Mohave but looked a little more alive and prosperous.
At the north end of town she saw a sign over a frame building big as a warehouse:
MOOSE'S PLACE. YOU NAME, IT, I GOT IT!
GENERAL STORE AND LUMBER YARD
Moose was all his name implied, a red-faced, gargantuan man in bibbed overalls and no shirt; evidence in his bushy black hair and all over his chest, arms, and shoulders that he was a very hairy man.
Some women like hairy men, but Barbara did not especially care for them. Yet, she would overlook his apelike appearance if she and Moose could agree on some trade for the goods she needed, other than herself.
When he saw Barbara enter his store, Moose ignored another customer, a stout lady in gingham dress who didn't object to his flirting, to wait on her.
"And what can I do for you?" Moose asked hopefully, leaning over his counter to get a better look at the new beauty in town.
He squinted as he spoke, from the smoke of a burning cigarette stub that hung from his mouth, seeming to defy gravity. His stomach was so big and round, Barbara thought he was a living example of what it meant to be "going to pot."