“We got to get outa here,” said Tom.
“What’s the matter now?”
“Well, Floyd says they’ll burn the camp tonight.”
“What the hell for?” Pa asked. “We ain’t done nothin’.”
“Nothin’ ’cept beat up a cop,” said Tom.
“Well, we never done it.”
“From what that cop said, they wanta push us along.”
Rose of Sharon demanded,
“You seen Connie?”
“Yeah,” said Al. “Way to hell an’ gone up the river.
He’s goin’ south.”
“Was—was he goin’ away?”
“I don’ know.”
Ma turned on the girl.
“Rosasharn, you been talkin’ an’ actin’ funny.
What’d Connie say to you?”
Rose of Sharon said sullenly,
“Said it would a been a good thing if he stayed home an’ studied up tractors.”
They were very quiet.
Rose of Sharon looked at the fire and her eyes glistened in the firelight.
The potatoes hissed sharply in the frying pan.
The girl sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
Pa said,
“Connie wasn’ no good.
I seen that a long time.
Didn’ have no guts, jus’ too big for his overhalls.”
Rose of Sharon got up and went into the tent.
She lay down on the mattress and rolled over on her stomach and buried her head in her crossed arms.
“Wouldn’ do no good to catch ’im, I guess,” Al said.
Pa replied,
“No.
If he ain’t no good, we don’ want him.”
Ma looked into the tent, where Rose of Sharon lay on her mattress.
Ma said,
“Sh.
Don’ say that.”
“Well, he ain’t no good,” Pa insisted. “All the time a-sayin’ what he’s a-gonna do.
Never doin’ nothin’.
I didn’ want ta say nothin’ while he’s here.
But now he’s run out——”
“Sh!” Ma said softly.
“Why, for Christ’s sake?
Why do I got to shh?
He run out, didn’ he?”
Ma turned over the potatoes with her spoon, and the grease boiled and spat.
She fed twigs to the fire, and the flames laced up and lighted the tent.
Ma said,
“Rosasharn gonna have a little fella an’ that baby is half Connie.
It ain’t good for a baby to grow up with folks a-sayin’ his pa ain’t no good.”
“Better’n lyin’ about it,” said Pa.