“I ain’t a-gonna go.”
“What you mean, you ain’t gonna go?
You got to go.
You got to look after the family.” Pa was amazed at the revolt.
Ma stepped to the touring car and reached in on the floor of the back seat.
She brought out a jack handle and balanced it in her hand easily.
“I ain’t a-gonna go,” she said.
“I tell you, you got to go.
We made up our mind.”
And now Ma’s mouth set hard.
She said softly,
“On’y way you gonna get me to go is whup me.” She moved the jack handle gently again. “An’ I’ll shame you, Pa.
I won’t take no whuppin’, cryin’ an’ a-beggin’.
I’ll light into you.
An’ you ain’t so sure you can whup me anyways.
An’ if ya do get me, I swear to God I’ll wait till you got your back turned, or you’re settin’ down, an’ I’ll knock you belly-up with a bucket.
I swear to Holy Jesus’ sake I will.”
Pa looked helplessly about the group.
“She sassy,” he said. “I never seen her so sassy.”
Ruthie giggled shrilly.
The jack handle flicked hungrily back and forth in Ma’s hand.
“Come on,” said Ma. “You made up your mind.
Come on an’ whup me.
Jus’ try it.
But I ain’t a-goin’; or if I do, you ain’t never gonna get no sleep, ’cause I’ll wait an’ I’ll wait, an’ jus’ the minute you take sleep in your eyes, I’ll slap ya with a stick a stove wood.”
“So goddamn sassy,” Pa murmured. “An’ she ain’t young, neither.”
The whole group watched the revolt.
They watched Pa, waiting for him to break into fury.
They watched his lax hands to see the fists form.
And Pa’s anger did not rise, and his hands hung limply at his sides.
And in a moment the group knew that Ma had won.
And Ma knew it too.
Tom said,
“Ma, what’s eatin’ on you?
What ya wanna do this-a-way for?
What’s the matter’th you anyways?
You gone johnrabbit on us?”
Ma’s face softened, but her eyes were still fierce.
“You done this ’thout thinkin’ much,” Ma said. “What we got lef’ in the worl’?
Nothin’ but us.
Nothin’ but the folks.
We come out an’ Grampa, he reached for the shovel-shelf right off.
An’ now, right off, you wanna bust up the folks——”
Tom cried,
“Ma, we was gonna catch up with ya.
We wasn’t gonna be gone long.”
Ma waved the jack handle.
“S’pose we was camped, and you went on by.
S’pose we got on through, how’d we know where to leave the word, an’ how’d you know where to ask?” She said, “We got a bitter road.
Granma’s sick.