“I tell you, you got to go. We made up our mind.”
And now Ma’s mouth set hard. She said softly, “On’y way you gonna get me to go is whup me.” She moved the jack handle gently again. “An’ I’ll shame you, Pa. I won’t take no whuppin’, cryin’ an’ a-beggin’. I’ll light into you. An’ you ain’t so sure you can whup me anyways. An’ if ya do get me, I swear to God I’ll wait till you got your back turned, or you’re settin’ down, an’ I’ll knock you belly-up with a bucket. I swear to Holy Jesus’ sake I will.”
Pa looked helplessly about the group. “She sassy,” he said. “I never seen her so sassy.” Ruthie giggled shrilly.
The jack handle flicked hungrily back and forth in Ma’s hand. “Come on,” said Ma. “You made up your mind. Come on an’ whup me. Jus’ try it. But I ain’t a-goin’; or if I do, you ain’t gonna get no sleep, ’cause I’ll wait an’ I’ll wait, an’ jus’ the minute you take sleep in your eyes, I’ll slap ya with a stick a stove wood.”
“So goddamn sassy,” Pa murmured. “An’ she ain’t young, neither.”
The whole group watched the revolt. They watched Pa, waiting for him to break into fury. They watched his lax hands to see the fists form. And Pa’s anger did not rise, and his hands hung limply at his sides. And in a moment the group knew that Ma had won. And Ma knew it too.
Tom said, “Ma, what’s eatin’ on you? What ya wanna do this-a-way for? What’s the matter’th you anyways? You gone johnrabbit on us?”
Ma’s face softened, but her eyes were still fierce. “You done this ‘thout thinkin’ much,” Ma said. “What we got lef’ in the worl’? Nothin’ but us. Nothin’ but the folks. We come out an’ Grampa he reached for the shovel-shelf right off. An’ now, right off, you wanna bust up the folks-”
Tom cried, “Ma, we gonna catch up with ya. We wasn’t gonna be gone long.”
Ma waved the jack handle. “S’pose we was camped, and you went on by. S’pose we got on through, how’d we know where to leave the word, an’ how’d you know where to ask?” She said, “We got a bitter road. Granma’s sick. She’s up there on the truck a-pawin’ for a shovel herself. She’s jus’ tar’d out. We got a long bitter road ahead.”
Uncle John said, “But we could be makin’ some money. We could have a little bit saved up, come time the other folks got there.”
The eyes of the whole family shifted back to Ma. She was the power. She had taken control. “The money we’d make wouldn’t do no good,” she said. “All we got is the family unbroke. Like a bunch a cows, when the lobos are ranging, stick all together. I ain’t scared while we’re all here, all that’s alive, but I ain’t gonna see us bust up. The Wilsons here is with us, an’ the preacher is with us. I can’t say nothin’ if they want to go, but I’m a-goin’ cat-wild with this here piece a bar-arn if my own folks busts up.” Her tone was cold and final.
Tom said soothingly, “Ma, we can’t all camp here. Ain’t no water here. Ain’t even much shade here. Granma, she needs shade.”
“All right,” said Ma. “We’ll go along. We’ll stop first place they’s water an’ shade. An’- the truck’ll come back an’ take you in town to get your part, an’ it’ll bring you back. You ain’t goin’ walkin’ along in the sun, an’ I ain’t havin’ you out all alone, so if you get picked up there ain’t nobody of your folks to he’p ya.”
Tom drew his lips over his teeth and then snapped them open. He spread his hands helplessly and let them flop against his sides. “Pa,” he said, “if you was to rush her one side an’ me the other an’ then the res’ pile on, an’ Granma jump down on top, maybe we can get Ma ‘thout more’n two-three of us gets killed with that there jack handle. But if you ain’t willin’ to get your head smashed, I guess Ma’s went an’ filled her flush. Jesus Christ, one person with their mind made up can shove a lot of folks aroun’! You win, Ma. Put away that jack handle ‘fore you hurt somebody.”
Ma looked in astonishment at the bar of iron. Her hand trembled. She dropped her weapon on the ground, and Tom, with elaborate care, picked it up and put it back in the car. He said, “Pa, you jus’ got set back on your heels. Al, you drive the folks on an’ get ’em camped, an’ then you bring the truck back here. Me an’ the preacher’ll get the pan off. Then, if we can make it, we’ll run in Santa Rosa an’ try an’ get a con-rod. Maybe we can, seein’ it’s Sat’dy night. Get jumpin’ now so we can go. Lemme have the monkey wrench an’ pliers outa the truck.” He reached under the car and felt the greasy pan. “Oh, yeah, lemme have a can, that ol’ bucket, to catch the oil. Got to save that.” Al handed over the bucket and Tom set it under the car and loosened the oil cap with a pair of pliers. The black oil flowed down his arm while he unscrewed the cap with his fingers, and then the black stream ran silently into the bucket. Al had loaded the family on the truck by the time the bucket was half full. Tom, his face already smudged with oil, looked out between the wheels. “Get back fast!” he called. And he was loosening the pan bolts as the truck moved gently across the shallow ditch and crawled away. Tom turned each bolt a single turn, loosening them evenly to spare the gasket.
The preacher knelt beside the wheels. “What can I do?”
“Nothin’, not right now. Soon’s the oil’s out an’ I get these here bolts loose, you can he’p me drop the pan off.” He squirmed away under the car, loosening the bolts with a wrench and turning them out with his fingers. He left the bolts on each end loosely threaded to keep the pan from dropping. “Ground’s still hot under here,” Tom said. And then, “Say, Casy, you been awful goddamn quiet the las’ few days. Why, Jesus! When I first come up with you, you was makin’ a speech ever’ half-hour or so. An’ here you ain’t said ten words the las’ couple days. What’s a matter- gettin’ sour?”
Casy was stretched out on his stomach, looking under the car. His chin, bristly with sparse whiskers, rested on the back of one hand. His hat was pushed back so that it covered the back of his neck. “I done enough talkin’ when I was a preacher to las’ the rest a my life,” he said.
“Yeah, but you done some talkin’ sence, too.”
“I’m all worried up,” Casy said. “I didn’ even know it when I was a-preachin’ aroun’, but I was doin’ consid’able tom-cattin’ aroun’. If I ain’t gonna preach no more, I got to get married. Why, Tommy, I’m a-lustin’ after the flesh.”
“Me too,” said Tom. “Say, the day I come outa McAlester I was smokin’. I run me down a girl, a hoor girl, like she was a rabbit. I won’t tell ya what happened. I wouldn’t tell nobody what happened.”
Casy laughed. “I know what happened. I went a-fastin’ into the wilderness one time, an’ when I come out the same damn thing happened to me.”
“Hell it did!” said Tom. “Well, I saved my money anyway, an’ I give that girl a run. Thought I was nuts. I should a paid her, but I on’y got five bucks to my name. She said she didn’t want no money. Here, roll in under here an’ grab a-holt. I’ll tap her loose. Then you turn out that bolt an’ I turn out my end, an’ we let her down easy. Careful that gasket. See, she comes off in one piece. They’s on’y four cylinders to these here ol’ Dodges. I took one down one time. Got main bearings big as a cantaloupe. Now- let her down- hold it. Reach up an’ pull down that gasket where it’s stuck- easy now. There!” The greasy pan lay on the ground between them, and a little oil still lay in the wells. Tom reached into one of the front wells and picked out some broken pieces of babbitt. “There she is,” he said. He turned the babbitt in his fingers. “Shaft’s up. Look in back an’ get the crank. Turn her over till I tell you.”
Casy got to his feet and found the crank and fitted it. “Ready?”
“Reach- now easy- little more- little more- right there.”
Casy kneeled down and looked under again. Tom rattled the connecting-rod bearing against the shaft. “There she is.”