Ma’s eyes had never left the flushing face. Ma watched the structure grow and followed it. “We don’ want you to go ‘way from us,” she said. “It ain’t good for folks to break up.”
Al snorted, “Me work for Connie? How about Connie comes a-workin’ for me? He thinks he’s the on’y son-of-a-bitch can study at night?”
Ma suddenly seemed to know it was all a dream. She turned her head forward again and her body relaxed, but the little smile stayed around her eyes. “I wonder how Granma feels today,” she said.
Al grew tense over the wheel. A little rattle had developed in the engine. He speeded up and the rattle increased. He retarded his spark and listened, and then he speeded up for a moment and listened. The rattle increased to a metallic pounding. Al blew his horn and pulled the car to the side of the road. Ahead the truck pulled up and then backed slowly. Three cars raced by, westward, and each one blew its horn and the last driver leaned out and yelled, “Where the hell ya think you’re stoppin’?”
Tom backed the truck close, and then he got out and walked to the touring car. From the back of the loaded truck heads looked down. Al retarded his spark and listened to his idling motor. Tom asked, “What’s a matter, Al?”
Al speeded the motor. “Listen to her.” The rattling pound was louder now.
Tom listened. “Put up your spark an’ idle,” he said. He opened the hood and put his head inside. “Now speed her.” He listened for a moment and then closed the hood. “Well, I guess you’re right, Al,” he said.
“Con-rod bearing, ain’t it?”
“Sounds like it,” said Tom.
“I kep’ plenty oil in,” Al complained.
“Well, it jus’ didn’ get to her. Drier’n a bitch monkey now. Well, there ain’t nothin’ to do but tear her out. Look, I’ll pull ahead an’ find a flat place to stop. You come ahead slow. Don’t knock the pan out of her.”
Wilson asked, “Is it bad?”
“Purty bad,” said Tom, and walked back to the truck and moved slowly ahead.
Al explained, “I don’t know what made her go out. I give her plenty of oil.” Al knew the blame was on him. He felt his failure.
Ma said, “It ain’t your fault. You done ever’thing right.” And then she asked a little timidly, “Is it terrible bad?”
“Well, it’s hard to get at, an’ we got to get a new con-rod or else some babbitt in this one.” He sighed deeply. “I sure am glad Tom’s here. I never fitted no bearing. Hope to Jesus Tom did.”
A huge red billboard stood beside the road ahead, and it threw a great oblong shadow. Tom edged the truck off the road and across the shallow roadside ditch, and he pulled up in the shadow. He got out and waited until Al came up.
“Now go easy,” he called. “Take her slow or you’ll break a spring too.”
Al’s face went red with anger. He throttled down his motor. “Goddamn it,” he yelled, “I didn’t burn that bearin’ out! What d’ya mean, I’ll bust a spring too?”
Tom grinned. “Keep all four feet on the groun’,” he said. “I didn’ mean nothin’. Just take her easy over this ditch.”
Al grumbled as he inched the touring car down, and up the other side. “Don’t you go givin’ nobody no idear I burned out that bearin’.” The engine clattered loudly now. Al pulled into the shade and shut down the motor.
Tom lifted the hood and braced it. “Can’t even start on her before she cools off,” he said. The family piled down from the cars and clustered about the touring car.
Pa asked, “How bad?” And he squatted on his hams.
Tom turned to Al. “Ever fitted one?”
“No,” said Al, “I never. ‘Course I had pans off.”
Tom said, “Well, we got to tear the pan off an’ get the rod out, an’ we got to get a new part an’ hone her an’ shim her an’ fit her. Good day’s job. Got to go back to that las’ place for a part, Santa Rosa. Albuquerque’s about seventy-five miles on- Oh, Jesus, tomorra’s Sunday! We can’t get nothin’ tomorra.” The family stood silently. Ruthie crept close and peered into the open hood, hoping to see the broken part. Tom went on softly, “Tomorra’s Sunday. Monday we’ll get the thing an’ prob’ly won’t get her fitted ‘fore Tuesday. We ain’t got the tools to make it easy. Gonna be a job.” The shadow of a buzzard slid across the earth, and the family all looked up at the sailing black bird.
Pa said, “What I’m scairt of is we’ll run outa money so we can’t git there ‘t all. Here’s all us eatin’, an’ got to buy gas an’ oil. ‘F we run outa money, I don’ know what we gonna do.”
Wilson said, “Seems like it’s my fault. This here goddamn wreck’s give me trouble right along. You folks been nice to us. Now you jus’ pack up an’ get along. Me an’ Sairy’ll stay, an’ we’ll figger some way. We don’t aim to put you folks out none.”
Pa said slowly. “We ain’t a-gonna do it. We got almost a kin bond. Grampa, he died in your tent.”
Sairy said tiredly, “We been nothin’ but trouble, nothin’ but trouble.”
Tom slowly made a cigarette, and inspected it and lighted it. He took off his ruined cap and wiped his forehead. “I got an idear,” he said. “Maybe nobody gonna like it, but here she is: The nearer to California our folks get, the quicker they’s gonna be money rollin’ in. Now this here car’ll go twicet as fast as that truck. Now here’s my idea. You take out some a that stuff in the truck, an’ then all you folks but me an’ the preacher get in an’ move on. Me an’ Casy’ll stop here an’ fix this here car an’ then we drive on, day an’ night, an’ we’ll catch up, or if we don’t meet on the road, you’ll be a-workin’ anyways. An’ if you break down, why, jus’ camp ‘longside the road till we come. You can’t be no worse off, an’ if you get through, why, you’ll be a-workin’, an’ stuff’ll be easy. Casy can give me a lif’ with this here car, an’ we’ll come a-sailin’.”
The gathered family considered it. Uncle John dropped to his hams beside Pa.
Al said, “Won’t ya need me to give ya a han’ with that con-rod?”
“You said your own se’f you never fixed one.”
“That’s right,” Al agreed. “All ya got to have is a strong back. Maybe the preacher don’ wanta stay.”
“Well- whoever- I don’ care,” said Tom.
Pa scratched the dry earth with his forefinger. “I kind a got a notion Tom’s right,” he said. “It ain’t goin’ ta do no good all of us stayin’ here. We can get fifty, a hunderd miles on ‘fore dark.”
Ma said worriedly, “How you gonna find us?”
“We’ll be on the same road,” said Tom. “Sixty-six right on through. Come to a place name’ Bakersfiel’. Seen it on the map I got. You go straight on there.”
“Yeah, but when we get to California an’ spread out sideways off this road-?”
“Don’t you worry,” Tom reassured her. “We’re gonna find ya. California ain’t the whole world.”
“Looks like an awful big place on the map,” said Ma.
Pa appealed for advice. “John, you see any reason why not?”
“No,” said John.
“Mr. Wilson, it’s your car. You got any objections if my boy fixes her an’ brings her on?”
“I don’t see none,” said Wilson. “Seems like you folks done ever’thing for us awready. Don’ see why I cain’t give your boy a han’.”
“You can be workin’, layin’ in a little money, if we don’ ketch up with ya,” said Tom. “An’ suppose we all jus’ lay aroun’ here. There ain’t no water here, an’ we can’t move this here car. But s’pose you all git out there an’ git to work. Why, you’d have money, an’ maybe a house to live in. How about it, Casy? Wanna stay with me an’ gimme a lif’?”
“I wanna do what’s bes’ for you folks,” said Casy. “You took me in, carried me along. I’ll do whatever.”
“Well, you’ll lay on your back an’ get grease in your face if you stay here,” Tom said.
“Suits me awright.”
Pa said, “Well, if that’s the way she’s gonna go, we better get a-shovin’. We can maybe squeeze in a hunderd miles ‘fore we stop.”
Ma stepped in front of him. “I ain’t a-gonna go.”
“What you mean, you ain’t gonna go? You got to go. You got to look after the family.” Pa was amazed at the revolt.
Ma stepped to the touring car and reached in on the floor of the back seat. She brought out a jack handle and balanced it in her hand easily. “I ain’t a-gonna go,” she said.