“Now look, Tom. Oh, what the hell!
So goddamn hard to say anything.”
Tom lifted the mud pack from his hand and threw it on the ground.
The edge of the wound was lined with dirt.
He glanced over to the preacher.
“You’re fixin’ to make a speech,” Tom said.
“Well, go ahead.
I like speeches.
Warden used to make speeches all the time.
Didn’t do us no harm an’ he got a hell of a bang out of it.
What you tryin’ to roll out?”
Casy picked the backs of his long knotty fingers.
“They’s stuff goin’ on and they’s folks doin’ things.
Them people layin’ one foot down in front of the other, like you says, they ain’t thinkin’ where they’re goin’, like you says—but they’re all layin’ ’em down the same direction, jus’ the same.
An’ if ya listen, you’ll hear a movin’, an’ a sneakin’, an’ a rustlin’, an’—an’ a res’lessness.
They’s stuff goin’ on that the folks doin’ it don’t know nothin’ about—yet.
They’s gonna come somepin outa all these folks goin’ wes’—outa all their farms lef’ lonely.
They’s gonna come a thing that’s gonna change the whole country.”
Tom said,
“I’m still layin’ my dogs down one at a time.”
“Yeah, but when a fence comes up at ya, ya gonna climb that fence.”
“I climb fences when I got fences to climb,” said Tom.
Casy sighed.
“It’s the bes’ way.
I gotta agree.
But they’s different kinda fences.
They’s folks like me that climbs fences that ain’t even strang up yet—an’ can’t he’p it.”
“Ain’t that Al a-comin’?” Tom asked.
“Yeah.
Looks like.”
Tom stood up and wrapped the connecting-rod and both halves of the bearing in the piece of sack.
“Wanta make sure I get the same,” he said.
The truck pulled alongside the road and Al leaned out the window.
Tom said,
“You was a hell of a long time.
How far’d you go?”
Al sighed.
“Got the rod out?”
“Yeah.” Tom held up the sack. “Babbitt jus’ broke down.”
“Well, it wasn’t no fault of mine,” said Al.
“No.
Where’d you take the folks?”
“We had a mess,” Al said. “Granma got to bellerin’, an’ that set Rosasharn off an’ she bellered some.
Got her head under a mattress an’ bellered.
But Granma, she was just layin’ back her jaw an’ bayin’ like a moonlight houn’ dog.
Seems like Granma ain’t got no sense no more.
Like a little baby.
Don’ speak to nobody, don’ seem to reco’nize nobody.
Jus’ talks on like she’s talkin’ to Grampa.”
“Where’d ya leave ’em?” Tom insisted.