“Sure, got it a mile an’ a half east of here an’ drug it.
Was a family livin’ there, an’ they moved away.
Grampa an’ Pa an’ my brother Noah like to took the whole house, but she wouldn’ come.
They only got part of her.
That’s why she looks so funny on one end.
They cut her in two an’ drug her over with twelve head of horses and two mules.
They was goin’ back for the other half an’ stick her together again, but before they got there Wink Manley come with his boys and stole the other half.
Pa an’ Grampa was pretty sore, but a little later them an’ Wink got drunk together an’ laughed their heads off about it.
Wink, he says his house is at stud, an’ if we’ll bring our’n over an’ breed ’em we’ll maybe get a litter of crap houses.
Wink was a great ol’ fella when he was drunk.
After that him an’ Pa an’ Grampa was friends.
Got drunk together ever’ chance they got.”
“Tom’s a great one,” Casy agreed.
They plodded dustily on down to the bottom of the draw, and then slowed their steps for the rise.
Casy wiped his forehead with his sleeve and put on his flat-topped hat again. “Yes,” he repeated, “Tom was a great one. For a godless man he was a great one.
I seen him in meetin’ sometimes when the sperit got into him just a little, an’ I seen him take ten-twelve foot jumps.
I tell you when ol’ Tom got a dose of the Holy Sperit you got to move fast to keep from gettin’ run down an’ tromped.
Jumpy as a stud horse in a box stall.”
They topped the next rise and the road dropped into an old water-cut, ugly and raw, a ragged course, and freshet scars cutting into it from both sides.
A few stones were in the crossing.
Joad minced across in his bare feet.
“You talk about Pa,” he said. “Maybe you never seen Uncle John the time they baptized him over to Polk’s place.
Why, he got to plungin’ an’ jumpin’.
Jumped over a feeny bush as big as a piana.
Over he’d jump, an’ back he’d jump, howlin’ like a dog-wolf in moon time.
Well, Pa seen him, an’ Pa, he figgers he’s the bes’ Jesus-jumper in these parts. So Pa picks out a feeny bush ’bout twicet as big as Uncle John’s feeny bush, and Pa lets out a squawk like a sow litterin’ broken bottles, an’ he takes a run at that feeny bush an’ clears her an’ bust his right leg.
That took the sperit out of Pa.
Preacher wants to pray it set, but Pa says, no, by God, he’d got his heart full of havin’ a doctor.
Well, they wasn’t a doctor, but they was a travelin’ dentist, an’ he set her.
Preacher give her a prayin’ over anyways.”
They plodded up the little rise on the other side of the water-cut.
Now that the sun was on the wane some of its impact was gone, and while the air was hot, the hammering rays were weaker.
The strung wire on crooked poles still edged the road.
On the right-hand side a line of wire fence strung out across the cotton field, and the dusty green cotton was the same on both sides, dusty and dry and dark green.
Joad pointed to the boundary fence.
“That there’s our line.
We didn’t really need no fence there, but we had the wire, an’ Pa kinda liked her there.
Said it give him a feelin’ that forty was forty.
Wouldn’t of had the fence if Uncle John didn’ come drivin’ in one night with six spools of wire in his wagon.
He give ’em to Pa for a shoat.
We never did know where he got that wire.”
They slowed for the rise, moving their feet in the deep soft dust, feeling the earth with their feet.
Joad’s eyes were inward on his memory.
He seemed to be laughing inside himself.
“Uncle John was a crazy bastard,” he said. “Like what he done with that shoat.”
He chuckled and walked on. Jim Casy waited impatiently.
The story did not continue.
Casy gave it a good long time to come out. “Well, what’d he do with that shoat?” he demanded at last, with some irritation.
“Huh?
Oh!