An’ now cover ’im up and let ’im get to his work.” He raised his head.
Pa said,
“Amen,” and the others muttered,
“A-men.”
Then Pa took the shovel, half filled it with dirt, and spread it gently into the black hole.
He handed the shovel to Uncle John, and John dropped in a shovelful.
Then the shovel went from hand to hand until every man had his turn.
When all had taken their duty and their right, Pa attacked the mound of loose dirt and hurriedly filled the hole.
The women moved back to the fire to see to supper.
Ruthie and Winfield watched, absorbed.
Ruthie said solemnly,
“Grampa’s down under there.”
And Winfield looked at her with horrified eyes. And then he ran away to the fire and sat on the ground and sobbed to himself.
Pa half filled the hole, and then he stood panting with the effort while Uncle John finished it.
And John was shaping up the mound when Tom stopped him.
“Listen,” Tom said. “’F we leave a grave, they’ll have it open in no time.
We got to hide it.
Level her off an’ we’ll strew dry grass.
We got to do that.”
Pa said,
“I didn’ think a that.
It ain’t right to leave a grave unmounded.”
“Can’t he’p it,” said Tom. “They’d dig ’im right up, an’ we’d get it for breakin’ the law.
You know what I get if I break the law.”
“Yeah,” Pa said. “I forgot that.” He took the shovel from John and leveled the grave. “She’ll sink, come winter,” he said.
“Can’t he’p that,” said Tom. “We’ll be a long ways off by winter.
Tromp her in good, an’ we’ll strew stuff over her.”
When the pork and potatoes were done the families sat about on the ground and ate, and they were quiet, staring into the fire.
Wilson, tearing a slab of meat with his teeth, sighed with contentment.
“Nice eatin’ pig,” he said.
“Well,” Pa explained, “we had a couple shoats, an’ we thought we might’s well eat ’em.
Can’t get nothin’ for them.
When we get kinda use’ ta movin’ an’ Ma can set up bread, why, it’ll be pretty nice, seein’ the country an’ two kags a’ pork right in the truck.
How long you folks been on the road?”
Wilson cleared his teeth with his tongue and swallowed.
“We ain’t been lucky,” he said. “We been three weeks from home.”
“Why, God Awmighty, we aim to be in California in ten days or less.”
Al broke in,
“I dunno, Pa.
With that load we’re packin’, we maybe ain’t never gonna get there.
Not if they’s mountains to go over.”
They were silent about the fire.
Their faces were turned downward and their hair and foreheads showed in the firelight.
Above the little dome of the firelight the summer stars shone thinly, and the heat of the day was gradually withdrawing.
On her mattress, away from the fire, Granma whimpered softly like a puppy.
The heads of all turned in her direction.
Ma said,
“Rosasharn, like a good girl go lay down with Granma.
She needs somebody now.
She’s knowin’, now.”