We’ll watch for ya.
Al can stay an’ Uncle John can come with us —” He looked at the proprietor. “That awright with you?”
He made a quick decision, with a concession in it.
“If the same number stays that come an’ paid—that’s awright.”
Tom brought out his bag of tobacco, a limp gray rag by now, with a little damp tobacco dust in the bottom of it.
He made a lean cigarette and tossed the bag away.
“We’ll go along pretty soon,” he said.
Pa spoke generally to the circle.
“It’s dirt hard for folks to tear up an’ go.
Folks like us that had our place.
We ain’t shif’less.
Till we got tractored off, we was people with a farm.”
A young thin man, with eyebrows sunburned yellow, turned his head slowly.
“Croppin’?” he asked.
“Sure we was sharecroppin’.
Use’ ta own the place.”
The young man faced forward again.
“Same as us,” he said.
“Lucky for us it ain’t gonna las’ long,” said Pa. “We’ll get out west an’ we’ll get work an’ we’ll get a piece a growin’ land with water.”
Near the edge of the porch a ragged man stood. His black coat dripped torn streamers. The knees were gone from his dungarees.
His face was black with dust, and lined where sweat had washed through.
He swung his head towards Pa.
“You folks must have a nice little pot a money.”
“No, we ain’t got no money,” Pa said. “But they’s plenty of us to work, an’ we’re all good men.
Get good wages out there an’ we’ll put ’em together.
We’ll make out.”
The ragged man stared while Pa spoke, and then he laughed, and his laughter turned to a high whinnying giggle.
The circle of faces turned to him.
The giggling got out of control and turned into coughing.
His eyes were red and watering when he finally controlled the spasms.
“You goin’ out there—oh, Christ!” The giggling started again. “You goin’ out an’ get—good wages—oh, Christ!” He stopped and said slyly, “Pickin’ oranges maybe?
Gonna pick peaches?”
Pa’s tone was dignified.
“We gonna take what they got.
They got lots a stuff to work in.”
The ragged man giggled under his breath.
Tom turned irritably.
“What’s so goddamn funny about that?”
The ragged man shut his mouth and looked sullenly at the porch boards.
“You folks all goin’ to California, I bet.”
“I tol’ you that,” said Pa. “You didn’ guess nothin’.”
The ragged man said slowly,
“Me—I’m comin’ back.
I been there.”
The faces turned quickly toward him.
The men were rigid.
The hiss of the lantern dropped to a sigh and the proprietor lowered the front chair legs to the porch, stood up, and pumped the lantern until the hiss was sharp and high again.
He went back to his chair, but he did not tilt back again.
The ragged man turned toward the faces.
“I’m goin’ back to starve.