Tom and Al got into the truck.
It was deep dark.
Al started the motor and turned on the lights.
“So long,” Tom called. “See ya maybe in California.” They turned across the highway and started back.
The one-eyed man watched them go, and then he went through the iron shed to his shack behind.
It was dark inside.
He felt his way to the mattress on the floor, and he stretched out and cried in his bed, and the cars whizzing by on the highway only strengthened the walls of his loneliness.
Tom said,
“If you’d tol’ me we’d get this here thing an’ get her in tonight, I’d said you was nuts.”
“We’ll get her in awright,” said Al. “You got to do her, though.
I’d be scared I’d get her too tight an’ she’d burn out, or too loose an’ she’d hammer out.”
“I’ll stick her in,” said Tom. “If she goes out again, she goes out.
I got nothin’ to lose.”
Al peered into the dusk.
The lights made no impression on the gloom; but ahead, the eyes of a hunting cat flashed green in reflection of the lights.
“You sure give that fella hell,” Al said. “Sure did tell him where to lay down his dogs.”
“Well, goddamn it, he was askin’ for it!
Jus’ a pattin’ his-self ’cause he got one eye, puttin’ all the blame on his eye.
He’s a lazy, dirty son-of-a-bitch.
Maybe he can snap out of it if he knowed people was wise to him.”
Al said,
“Tom, it wasn’t nothin’ I done burned out that bearin’.”
Tom was silent for a moment, then,
“I’m gonna take a fall outa you, Al.
You jus’ scrabblin’ ass over tit, fear somebody gonna pin some blame on you.
I know what’s a matter.
Young fella, all full a piss an’ vinegar.
Wanta be a hell of a guy all the time.
But, goddamn it, Al, don’ keep ya guard up when nobody ain’t sparrin’ with ya.
You gonna be all right.”
Al did not answer him.
He looked straight ahead.
The truck rattled and banged over the road.
A cat whipped out from the side of the road and Al swerved to hit it, but the wheels missed and the cat leaped into the grass.
“Nearly got him,” said Al. “Say, Tom.
You heard Connie talkin’ how he’s gonna study nights?
I been thinkin’ maybe I’d study nights too.
You know, radio or television or Diesel engines.
Fella might get started that-a-way.”
“Might,” said Tom. “Find out how much they gonna sock ya for the lessons, first.
An’figger out if you’re gonna study ’em.
There was fellas takin’ them mail lessons in McAlester.
I never knowed one of ’em that finished up.
Got sick of it an’ left ’em slide.”
“God Awmighty, we forgot to get somepin to eat.”
“Well, Ma sent down plenty; preacher couldn’ eat it all.
Be some lef’.
I wonder how long it’ll take us to get to California.”
“Christ, I don’ know.
Jus’ plug away at her.”