Ma fanned the air slowly with her cardboard.
“You been frien’ly,” she said. “We thank you.”
The stout woman smiled.
“No need to thank.
Ever’body’s in the same wagon.
S’pose we was down. You’d a give us a han’.”
“Yes,” Ma said, “we would.”
“Or anybody.” “Or anybody.
Use’ ta be the fambly was fust.
It ain’t so now. It’s anybody.
Worse off we get, the more we got to do.”
“We couldn’ a saved it.”
“I know,” said Ma.
Ruthie sighed deeply and took her arm from over her eyes.
She looked blindly at the lamp for a moment, and then turned her head and looked at Ma.
“Is it bore?” she demanded. “Is the baby out?”
Mrs. Wainwright picked up a sack and spread it over the apple box in the corner.
“Where’s the baby?” Ruthie demanded.
Ma wet her lips.
“They ain’t no baby.
They never was no baby.
We was wrong.”
“Shucks!” Ruthie yawned. “I wisht it had a been a baby.”
Mrs. Wainwright sat down beside Ma and took the cardboard from her and fanned the air.
Ma folded her hands in her lap, and her tired eyes never left the face of Rose of Sharon, sleeping in exhaustion.
“Come on,” Mrs. Wainwright said. “Jus’ lay down.
You’ll be right beside her.
Why, you’d wake up if she took a deep breath, even.”
“Awright, I will.” Ma stretched out on the mattress beside the sleeping girl.
And Mrs. Wainwright sat on the floor and kept watch.
Pa and Al and Uncle John sat in the car doorway and watched the steely dawn come.
The rain had stopped, but the sky was deep and solid with cloud.
As the light came, it was reflected on the water.
The men could see the current of the stream, slipping swiftly down, bearing black branches of trees, boxes, boards.
The water swirled into the flat where the boxcars stood.
There was no sign of the embankment left.
On the flat the current stopped.
The edges of the flood were lined with yellow foam.
Pa leaned out the door and placed a twig on the cat-walk, just above the water line.
The men watched the water slowly climb to it, lift it gently and float it away.
Pa placed another twig an inch above the water and settled back to watch.
“Think it’ll come inside the car?” Al asked.
“Can’t tell.
They’s a hell of a lot of water got to come down from the hills yet.
Can’t tell.
Might start up to rain again.”
Al said,
“I been a-thinkin’. If she come in, ever’thing’ll get soaked.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she won’t come up more’n three-four feet in the car ’cause she’ll go over the highway an’ spread out first.”