“I knowed it.
Funny, you git outa the habit a mentionin’ your name.
They’s so goddamn many. Jist fellas.
Well, sir—I’m Timothy Wallace, an’ this here’s my boy Wilkie.”
“Proud to know ya,” Tom said. “You been out here long?”
“Ten months,” Wilkie said. “Got here right on the tail a the floods las’ year.
Jesus! We had a time, a time!
Goddamn near starve’ to death.” Their feet rattled on the oiled road.
A truckload of men went by, and each man was sunk into himself.
Each man braced himself in the truck bed and scowled down.
“Goin’ out for the Gas Company,” Timothy said. “They got a nice job of it.”
“I could of took our truck,” Tom suggested.
“No.” Timothy leaned down and picked up a green walnut.
He tested it with his thumb and then shied it at a blackbird sitting on a fence wire.
The bird flew up, let the nut sail under it, and then settled back on the wire and smoothed its shining black feathers with its beak.
Tom asked,
“Ain’t you got no car?”
Both Wallaces were silent, and Tom, looking at their faces, saw that they were ashamed.
Wilkie said,
“Place we work at is on’y a mile up the road.”
Timothy said angrily,
“No, we ain’t got no car.
We sol’ our car.
Had to.
Run outa food, run outa ever’thing.
Couldn’ git no job.
Fellas come aroun’ ever’ week, buyin’ cars.
Come aroun’, an’ if you’re hungry, why, they’ll buy your car.
An’ if you’re hungry enough, they don’t hafta pay nothin’ for it.
An’—we was hungry enough.
Give us ten dollars for her.” He spat into the road.
Wilkie said quietly,
“I was in Bakersfiel’ las’ week.
I seen her— a-settin’ in a use’-car lot—settin’ right there, an’ seventy-five dollars was the sign on her.”
“We had to,” Timothy said. “It was either us let ’em steal our car or us steal somepin from them.
We ain’t had to steal yet, but, goddamn it, we been close!”
Tom said,
“You know, ’fore we lef’ home, we heard they was plenty work out here.
Seen han’bills askin’ folks to come out.”
“Yeah,” Timothy said. “We seen ’em too.
An’ they ain’t much work.
An’ wages is comin’ down all a time.
I git so goddamn tired jus’ figgerin’ how to eat.”
“You got work now,” Tom suggested.
“Yeah, but it ain’t gonna las’ long.
Workin’ for a nice fella.
Got a little place.
Works ’longside of us.
But, hell—it ain’t gonna las’ no time.”
Tom said,