Ruthie squatted down to break up the twigs for Ma.
Ma lifted the kettle lid and stirred the stew with a stick.
“I’m sure glad some of you ain’t hungry.
That little fella ain’t, anyways.”
The girl sneered.
“Oh, him!
He was a-braggin’.
High an’ mighty.
If he don’t have no supper—know what he done?
Las’ night, come out an’ say they got chicken to eat.
Well, sir, I looked in whilst they was a-eatin’ an’ it was fried dough jus’ like ever’body else.”
“Oh!” And Ma looked down toward the tent where the small boy had gone.
She looked back at the little girl. “How long you been in California?” she asked.
“Oh, ’bout six months.
We lived in a gov’ment camp a while, an’ then we went north, an’ when we come back it was full up.
That’s a nice place to live, you bet.”
“Where’s that?” Ma asked.
And she took the sticks from Ruthie’s hand and fed the fire.
Ruthie glared with hatred at the older girl.
“Over by Weedpatch.
Got nice toilets an’ baths, an’ you kin wash clothes in a tub, an’ they’s water right handy, good drinkin’ water; an’ nights the folks plays music an’ Sat’dy night they give a dance.
Oh, you never seen anything so nice.
Got a place for kids to play, an’ them toilets with paper.
Pull down a little jigger an’ the water comes right in the toilet, an’ they ain’t no cops let to come look in your tent any time they want, an’ the fella runs the camp is so polite, comes a-visitin’ an’ talks an’ ain’t high an’ mighty. I wisht we could go live there again.”
Ma said,
“I never heard about it.
I sure could use a wash tub, I tell you.”
The girl went on excitedly,
“Why, God Awmighty, they got hot water right in pipes, an’ you get in under a shower bath an’ it’s warm.
You never seen such a place.”
Ma said,
“All full now, ya say?”
“Yeah.
Las’ time we ast it was.”
“Mus’ cost a lot,” said Ma.
“Well, it costs, but if you ain’t got the money, they let you work it out—couple hours a week, cleanin’ up, an’ garbage cans. Stuff like that.
An’ nights they’s music an’ folks talks together an’ hot water right in the pipes.
You never seen nothin’ so nice.”
Ma said,
“I sure wisht we could go there.”
Ruthie had stood all she could. She blurted fiercely,
“Granma died right on top a the truck.” The girl looked questioningly at her. “Well, she did,” Ruthie said. “An’ the cor’ner got her.” She closed her lips tightly and broke up a little pile of sticks.
Winfield blinked at the boldness of the attack.
“Right on the truck,” he echoed. “Cor’ner stuck her in a big basket.”
Ma said,
“You shush now, both of you, or you got to go away.” And she fed twigs into the fire.
Down the line Al had strolled to watch the valve-grinding job.
“Looks like you’re ’bout through,” he said.
“Two more.”
“Is they any girls in this here camp?”