Ma studied him. Her hand went blindly out and put the little bag of sugar on the pile in her arm. “Thanks to you,” she said quietly. She started for the door, and when she reached it, she turned about. “I’m learnin’ one thing good,” she said. “Learnin’ it all a time, ever’ day. If you’re in trouble or hurt or need- go to poor people. They’re the only ones that’ll help- the only ones.” The screen door slammed behind her.
The little man leaned his elbows on the counter and looked after her with his surprised eyes. A plump tortoise shell cat leaped up on the counter and stalked lazily near to him. It rubbed sideways against his arms, and he reached out with his hand and pulled it against his cheek. The cat purred loudly, and the tip of its tail jerked back and forth.
TOM AND AL AND PA and Uncle John walked in from the orchard when the dusk was deep. Their feet were a little heavy against the road.
“You wouldn’ think jus’ reachin’ up an’ pickin’d get you in the back,” Pa said.
“Be awright in a couple days,” said Tom. “Say, Pa, after we eat I’m a-gonna walk out an’ see what all that fuss is outside the gate. It’s been a-workin’ on me. Wanta come?”
“No,” said Pa. “I like to have a little while to jus’ work an’ not think about nothin’. Seems like I jus’ been beatin’ my brains to death for a hell of a long time. No, I’m gonna set awhile, an’ then go to bed.”
“How ’bout you, Al?”
Al looked away. “Guess I’ll look aroun’ in here, first.” he said.
“Well, I know Uncle John won’t come. Guess I’ll go her alone. Got me all curious.”
Pa said, “I’ll get a hell of a lot curiouser ‘fore I’ll do anything about it- with all them cops out there.”
“Maybe they ain’t there at night,” Tom suggested.
“Well, I ain’t gonna find out. An’ you better not tell Ma where you’re a-goin’. She’ll jus’ squirt her head off worryin’.”
Tom turned to Al. “Ain’t you curious?”
“Guess I’ll jes’ look aroun’ this here camp,” Al said.
“Lookin’ for girls, huh?”
“Mindin’ my own business,” Al said acidly.
“I’m still a-goin’,” said Tom.
They emerged from the orchard into the dusty street between the red shacks. The low yellow light of kerosene lanterns shone from some of the doorways, and inside, in the half-gloom, the black shapes of people moved about. At the end of the street a guard still sat, his shotgun resting against his knee.
Tom paused as he passed the guard. “Got a place where a fella can get a bath, mister?”
The guard studied him in the half-light. At last he said, “See that water tank?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there’s a hose over there.”
“Any warm water?”
“Say, who in hell you think you are, J. P. Morgan?”
“No,” said Tom. “No, I sure don’t. Good night, mister.”
The guard grunted contemptuously. “Hot water, for Christ’s sake. Be wantin’ tubs next.” He stared glumly after the four Joads.
A second guard came around the end house. “‘S’matter, Mack?”
“Why, them goddamn Okies. ‘Is they warm water?’ he says.”
The second guard rested his gun butt on the ground. “It’s them gov’ment camps,” he said. “I bet that fella been in a gov’ment camp. We ain’t gonna have no peace till we wipe them camps out. They’ll be wantin’ clean sheets, first thing we know.”
Mack asked, “How is it out at the main gate- hear anything?”
“Well, they was out there yellin’ all day. State police got it in hand. They’re runnin’ the hell outa them smart guys. I heard they’s a long lean son-of-a-bitch spark-pluggin’ the thing. Fella says they’ll get him tonight, an’ then she’ll go to pieces.”
“We won’t have no job if it comes too easy,” Mack said.
“We’ll have a job, all right. These goddamn Okies! You got to watch ’em all the time. Things get a little quiet, we can always stir ’em up a little.”
“Have trouble when they cut the rate here, I guess.”
“We sure will. No, you needn’ worry about us havin’ work- not while Hooper’s snubbin’ close.”
The fire roared in the Joad house. Hamburger patties splashed and hissed in the grease, and the potatoes bubbled. The house was full of smoke, and the yellow lantern light threw heavy black shadows on the walls. Ma worked quickly about the fire while Rose of Sharon sat on a box resting her heavy abdomen on her knees.
“Feelin’ better now?” Ma asked.
“Smell a cookin’ gets me. I’m hungry, too.”
“Go set in the door,” Ma said. “I got to have that box to break up anyways.”
The men trooped in. “Meat, by God!” said Tom. “And coffee. I smell her. Jesus, I’m hungry! I et a lot of peaches, but they didn’ do no good. Where can we wash, Ma?”
“Go down to the water tank. Wash down there. I jus’ sent Ruthie an’ Winfiel’ to wash.” The men went out again.
“Go on now, Rosasharn,” Ma ordered. “Either you set in the door or else on the bed. I got to break that box up.”
The girl helped herself up with her hands. She moved heavily to one of the mattresses and sat down on it. Ruthie and Winfield came in quietly, trying by silence and by keeping close to the wall to remain obscure.
Ma looked over at them. “I got a feelin’ you little fellas is lucky they ain’t much light,” she said. She pounced at Winfield and felt his hair. “Well, you got wet, anyway, but I bet you ain’t clean.”
“They wasn’t no soap,” Winfield complained.
“No, that’s right. I couldn’ buy no soap. Not today. Maybe we can get soap tomorra.” She went back to the stove, laid out the plates, and began to serve the supper. Two patties apiece and a big potato. She placed three slices of bread on each plate. When the meat was all out of the frying pan she poured a little of the grease on each plate. The men came in again, their faces dripping and their hair shining with water.
“Leave me at her,” Tom cried.
They took the plates. They ate silently, wolfishly, and wiped up the grease with the bread. The children retired into the corner of the room, put their plates on the floor, and knelt in front of the food like little animals.
Tom swallowed the last of his bread. “Got any more, Ma?”
“No,” she said. “That’s all. You made a dollar, an’ that’s a dollar’s worth.”
“That?”
“They charge extry out here. We got to go in town when we can.”
“I ain’t full,” said Tom.
“Well, tomorra you’ll get in a full day. Tomorra night- we’ll have plenty.”
Al wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Guess I’ll take a look around,” he said.
“Wait, I’ll go with you.” Tom followed him outside. In the darkness Tom went close to his brother. “Sure you don’ wanta come with me?”
“No. I’m gonna look aroun’ like I said.”
“O.K.,” said Tom. He turned away and strolled down the street. The smoke from the houses hung low to the ground, and the lanterns threw their pictures of doorways and windows into the street. On the doorsteps people sat and looked out into the darkness. Tom could see their heads turn as their eyes followed him down the street. At the street end the dirt road continued across a stubble field, and the black lumps of haycocks were visible in the starlight. A thin blade of moon was low in the sky toward the west, and the long cloud of the milky way trailed clearly overhead. Tom’s feet sounded softly on the dusty road, a dark patch against the yellow stubble. He put his hands in his pockets and trudged along toward the main gate. An embankment came close to the road. Tom could hear the whisper of water against the grasses in the irrigation ditch. He climbed up the bank and looked down on the dark water, and saw the stretched reflections of the stars. The State Road was ahead. Car lights swooping past showed where it was. Tom set out again toward it. He could see the high wire gate in the starlight.
A figure stirred beside the road. A voice said, “Hello- who is it?”
Tom stopped and stood still. “Who are you?”
A man stood up and walked near. Tom could see the gun in his hand. Then a flashlight played on his face. “Where you think you’re going?”
“Well, I thought I’d take a walk. Any law against it?”
“You better walk some other way.”
Tom asked, “Can’t I even get out of here?”
“Not tonight you can’t. Want to walk back, or shall I whistle some help an’ take you?”
“Hell,” said Tom, “it ain’t nothin’ to me. If it’s gonna cause a mess, I don’t give a darn. Sure, I’ll go back.”