Tom had watched his young brother carefully.
“I was thinkin’ somepin like that myself,” he said.
Noah asked,
“What you two fellas talkin’ about?”
Tom and Al were silent, each waiting for the other.
“You tell ’em,” Al said finally.
“Well, maybe it’s no good, an’ maybe it ain’t the same thing Al’s thinking.
Here she is, anyways.
We got a overload, but Mr. an’ Mis’ Wilson ain’t.
If some of us folks could ride with them an’ take some a their light stuff in the truck, we wouldn’t break no springs an’ we could git up hills.
An’ me an’ Al both knows about a car, so we could keep that car a-rollin’.
We’d keep together on the road an’ it’d be good for ever’body.”
Wilson jumped up.
“Why, sure.
Why, we’d be proud.
We certain’y would.
You hear that, Sairy?”
“It’s a nice thing,” said Sairy. “Wouldn’ be a burden on you folks?”
“No, by God,” said Pa. “Wouldn’t be no burden at all.
You’d be helpin’ us.”
Wilson settled back uneasily.
“Well, I dunno.”
“What’s a matter, don’ you wanta?”
“Well, ya see—I on’y got ’bout thirty dollars lef’, an’ I won’t be no burden.”
Ma said,
“You won’t be no burden.
Each’ll help each, an’ we’ll all git to California.
Sairy Wilson he’ped lay Grampa out,” and she stopped.
The relationship was plain.
Al cried,
“That car’ll take six easy.
Say me to drive, an’ Rosasharn an’ Connie and Granma.
Then we take the big light stuff an’ pile her on the truck.
An’ we’ll trade off ever’ so often.” He spoke loudly, for a load of worry was lifted from him.
They smiled shyly and looked down at the ground.
Pa fingered the dusty earth with his fingertips.
He said,
“Ma favors a white house with oranges growin’ around.
They’s a big pitcher on a calendar she seen.”
Sairy said,
“If I get sick again, you got to go on an’ get there.
We ain’t a-goin’ to burden.”
Ma looked carefully at Sairy, and she seemed to see for the first time the pain-tormented eyes and the face that was haunted and shrinking with pain.
And Ma said,
“We gonna see you get through.
You said yourself, you can’t let help go unwanted.”
Sairy studied her wrinkled hands in the firelight.
“We got to get some sleep tonight.” She stood up.
“Grampa—it’s like he’s dead a year,” Ma said.
The families moved lazily to their sleep, yawning luxuriously.