It was Saturday night. Through the open door that led into the barn came the sound of moving horses, of feet stirring, of teeth champing on hay, of the rattle of halter chains. In the stable buck’s room a small electric globe threw a meager yellow light.
Crooks sat on his bunk. His shirt was out of his jeans in back. In one hand he held a bottle of liniment, and with the other he rubbed his spine. Now and then he poured a few drops of the liniment into his pink-palmed hand and reached up under his shirt to rub again. He flexed his muscles against his back and shivered.
Noiselessly Lennie appeared in the open doorway and stood there looking in, his big shoulders nearly filling the opening. For a moment Crooks did not see him, but on raising his eyes he stiffened and a scowl came on his face. His hand came out from under his shirt.
Lennie smiled helplessly in an attempt to make friends.
Crooks said sharply, “You got no right to come in my room. This here’s my room. Nobody got any right in here but me.”
Lennie gulped and his smile grew more fawning. “I ain’t doing nothing,” he said. “Just come to look at my puppy. And I seen your light,” he explained.
“Well, I got a right to have a light. You go on get outta my room. I ain’t wanted in the bunk house, and you ain’t wanted in my room.”
“Why ain’t you wanted?” Lennie asked.
“‘Cause I’m black. They play cards in there, but I can’t play because I’m black. They say I stink. Well, I tell you, you all of you stink to me.”
Lennie flapped his big hands helplessly. “Ever’body went into town,” he said. “Slim an’ George an’ ever’body. George says I gotta stay here an’ not get in no trouble. I seen your light.”
“Well, what do you want?”
“Nothing-I seen your light. I thought I could jus’ come in an’ set.”
Crooks stared at Lennie, and he reached behind him and took down the spectacles and adjusted them over his pink ears and stared again. “I don’t know what you’re doin’ in the barn anyway,” he complained. “You ain’t no skinner. They’s no call for a bucker to come into the barn at all. You ain’t no skinner. You ain’t got nothing to do with the horses.”
“The pup,” Lennie repeated “I come to see my pup.”
“Well, go see your pup, then. Don’t come in a place where you’re not wanted.”
Lennie lost his smile. He advanced a step into the room, then remembered and backed to the door again. “I looked at ’em a little. Slim says I ain’t to pet ’em very much.”
Crooks said, “Well, you been takin’ ’em out of the nest all the time. I wonder the old lady don’t move ’em someplace else.”
“Oh, she don’t care. She lets me.” Lennie had moved into the room again.
Crooks scowled, but Lennie’s disarming smile defeated him. “Come on in and set a while,” Crooks said. “‘Long as you won’t get out and leave me alone, you might as well set down.” His tone was a little more friendly. “All the boys gone into town, huh?”
“All but old Candy. He just sets in the bunk house sharpening his pencil and sharpening and figuring.”
Crooks adjusted his glasses. “Figuring? What’s Candy figuring about?”
Lennie almost shouted, “‘Bout the rabbits.”
“You’re nuts,” said Crooks. “You’re crazy as a wedge. What rabbits you talkin’ about?”
“The rabbits we’re gonna get, and I get to tend ’em, cut grass an’ give ’em water, an’ like that.”
“Jus’ nuts,” said Crooks. “I don’t blame the guy you travel with for keepin’ you outa sight.”
Lennie said quietly, “It ain’t no lie. We’re gonna do it. Gonna get a little place an’ live on the fatta the lan’.”
Crooks settled himself more comfortably on his bunk. “Set down,” he invited. “Set down on the nail keg.”
Lennie hunched down on the little barrel. “You think it’s a lie,” Lennie said, “But it ain’t no lie. Ever’ word’s the truth, an’ you can ast George.”
Crooks put his dark chin into his pink palm. “You travel aroun’ with George, don’t ya?”
“Sure. Me an’ him goes ever’ place together.”
Crooks continued. “Sometimes he talks, and you don’t know what the hell he’s talkin’ about. Ain’t that so?” He leaned forward, boring Lennie with his deep eyes. “Ain’t that so?”
“Yeah . . . . sometimes.”
“Jus’ talks on, an’ you don’t know what the hell it’s all about?”
“Yeah . . . . sometimes. But . . . . not always.”
Crooks leaned forward over the edge of the bunk. “I ain’t a Southern Negro,” he said.” I was born right bere in California. My old man had a chicken ranch, ’bout ten acres. The white kids come to play at our place, an’ sometimes I event to play with them, and some of them was pretty nice. My of man didn’t like that. I never knew till long later why he didn’t like that. But I know now.” He hesitated, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. “There wasn’t another colored family for miles around. And now there ain’t a colored man on this ranch an’ there’s jus’ one family in Soledad.” He laughed. “If I say something, why it’s just a nigger sayin’ it”
Lennie asked, “How long you think it’ll be before them pups will be old enough to pet?”
Crooks laughed again. “A guy can talk to you an’ be sure you won’t go blabbin’. Couple of weeks an’ them pups’ll be all right. George knows what he’s about. Jus’ talks, an’ you don’t understand nothing.” He leaned forward excitedly. “This is just a nigger talkin’, an’ a busted-back nigger. So it don’t mean nothing, see? You couldn’t remember it anyways. I seen it over an’ over-a guy talkin’ to another guy and it don’t make no difference if he don’t hear or understand. The thing is, they’re talkin’, or they’re settin’ still not talkin’. It don’t make no difference, no difference.” His excitement had increased until he pounded his knee with his hand. “George can tell you screwy things, and it don’t matter. It’s just the talking. It’s just bein’ with another guy. That’s all.” He paused.
His voice grew soft and persuasive. “S’pose George don’t come back no more. S’pose he took a powder and just ain’t coming back. What’ll you do then?”
Lennie’s attention came gradually to what had been said. “What?” he demanded.
“I said s’pose George went into town tonight and you never heard of him no more.” Crooks pressed forward some kind of private victory. “Just s’pose that,” he repeated.
“He won’t do it,” Lennie cried. “George wouldn’t do nothing like that. I been with George a long time. He’ll come back tonight-” But the doubt was too much for him. “Don’t you think he will?”
Crooks’ face lighted with pleasure in his torture.
“Nobody can’t tell what a guy’ll do,” he observed calmly. “Le’s say he wants to come back and can’t. S’pose he gets killed or hurt so he can’t come back.”
Lennie struggled to understand. “George won’t do nothing like that,” he repeated..”George is careful. He won’t get hurt. He ain’t never been hurt, ’cause he’s careful.”
“Well, s’pose, jus’ s’pose he don’t come back. What’ll you do then?”
Lennie’s face wrinkled with apprehension. “I don’ know. Say, what you doin’ anyways?” he cried. “This ain’t true. George ain’t got hurt.”
Crooks bored in on him. “Want me to tell ya what’ll happen? They’ll take ya to the booby hatch. They’ll tie ya up with a collar, like a dog.”
Suddenly Lennie’s eyes. centered and grew quiet, and mad. He stood up and walked dangerously toward Crooks. “Who hurt George?” he demanded.
Crooks saw the danger as it approached him. He edged back on his bunk to get out of the way. “I was just supposin’,” he said. “George ain’t hurt. He’s all right. He’ll be back all right.”
Lennie stood over him. “What you supposin’ for? Ain’t nobody goin’ to suppose no hurt to George.”
Crooks removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his fingers. “Jus’ set down,” he said. “George ain’t hurt.”
Lennie growled back to his seat on the nail keg. “Ain’t nobody goin’ to talk no hurt to George,” he grumbled.
Crooks said gently, “Maybe you can see now. You got George. You know he’s goin’ to come back. S’pose you didn’t have nobody. S’pose you couldn’t go into the bunk house and play rummy ’cause you was black. How’d you like that? S’pose you had to sit out here an’ read books. Sure you could play horseshoes till it got dark, but then you got to read books. Books ain’t no good. A guy needs somebody -to be near him.” He whined, “A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody. Don’t make no difference who the guy is, long’s he’s with you. I tell ya,” he cried, “I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.”