“Don’t go away right yet,” said Tom. “Not right yet.”
“Quicker I get lookin’ for work—quicker I’m gonna find some.”
Tom studied him with half-shut eyes and he put on his cap again.
“Look,” he said, “this ain’t no lan’ of milk an’ honey like the preachers say.
They’s a mean thing here.
The folks here is scared of us people comin’ west; an’ so they got cops out tryin’ to scare us back.”
“Yeah,” said Casy. “I know.
What you ask about me bein’ in jail for?”
Tom said slowly,
“When you’re in jail—you get to kinda—sensin’ stuff.
Guys ain’t let to talk a hell of a lot together—two maybe, but not a crowd.
An’ so you get kinda sensy.
If somepin’s gonna bust—if say a fella’s goin’ stir-bugs an’ take a crack at a guard with a mop handle—why, you know it ’fore it happens.
An’ if they’s gonna be a break or a riot, nobody don’t have to tell ya.
You’re sensy about it.
You know.”
“Yeah?”
“Stick aroun’,” said Tom. “Stick aroun’ till tomorra anyways.
Somepin’s gonna come up.
I was talkin’ to a kid up the road. An’ he’s bein’ jus’ as sneaky an’ wise as a dog coyote, but he’s too wise. Dog coyote a-mindin’ his own business an’ innocent an’ sweet, jus’ havin’ fun an’ no harm—well, they’s a hen roost clost by.”
Casy watched him intently, started to ask a question, and then shut his mouth tightly.
He waggled his toes slowly and, releasing his knees, pushed out his foot so he could see it.
“Yeah,” he said, “I won’t go right yet.”
Tom said,
“When a bunch a folks, nice quiet folks, don’t know nothin’ about nothin’—somepin’s goin’ on.”
“I’ll stay,” said Casy.
“An’ tomorra we’ll go out in the truck an’ look for work.”
“Yeah!” said Casy, and he waved his toes up and down and studied them gravely.
Tom settled back on his elbow and closed his eyes.
Inside the tent he could hear the murmur of Rose of Sharon’s voice and Connie’s answering.
The tarpaulin made a dark shadow and the wedge-shaped light at each end was hard and sharp.
Rose of Sharon lay on a mattress and Connie squatted beside her.
“I oughta help Ma,” Rose of Sharon said. “I tried, but ever’ time I stirred about I throwed up.”
Connie’s eyes were sullen.
“If I’d of knowed it would be like this I wouldn’ of came.
I’d a studied nights ’bout tractors back home an’ got me a three-dollar job.
Fella can live awful nice on three dollars a day, an’ go to the pitcher show ever’ night, too.”
Rose of Sharon looked apprehensive.
“You’re gonna study nights ’bout radios,” she said.
He was long in answering. “Ain’t you?” she demanded.
“Yeah, sure.
Soon’s I get on my feet.
Get a little money.”
She rolled up on her elbow.
“You ain’t givin’ it up!”
“No—no—’course not.
But—I didn’ know they was places like this we got to live in.”
The girl’s eyes hardened.
“You got to,” she said quietly.
“Sure.