The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [139]
“Who’s in here?’’
Ma sat up quickly. A brown-faced man bent over and looked in. He wore boots and khaki pants and a khaki shirt with epaulets. On a Sam Browne belt a pistol holster hung, and a big silver star was pinned to his shirt at the left breast. A loose-crowned military cap was on the back of his head. He beat on the tarpaulin with his hand, and the tight canvas vibrated like a drum.
“Who’s in here?’’ he demanded again.
Ma asked, “What is it you want, mister?’’
“What you think I want? I want to know who’s in here.’’
“Why, they’s jus’ us three in here. Me an’ Granma an’ my girl.’’
“Where’s your men?’’
“Why, they went down to clean up. We was drivin’ all night.’’
“Where’d you come from?’’
“Right near Sallisaw, Oklahoma.’’
“Well, you can’t stay here.’’
“We aim to get out tonight an’ cross the desert, mister.’’
“Well, you better. If you’re here tomorra this time I’ll run you in. We don’t want none of you settlin’ down here.’’
Ma’s face blackened with anger. She got slowly to her feet. She stooped to the utensil box and picked out the iron skillet. “Mister,’’ she said, “you got a tin button an’ a gun. Where I come from, you keep your voice down.’’ She advanced on him with the skillet. He loosened the gun in the holster. “Go ahead,’’ said Ma. “Scarin’ women. I’m thankful the men folks ain’t here. They’d tear ya to pieces. In my country you watch your tongue.’’
The man took two steps backward. “Well, you ain’t in your country now. You’re in California, an’ we don’t want you goddamn Okies settlin’ down.’’
Ma’s advance stopped. She looked puzzled. “Okies?’’ she said softly. “Okies.’’
“Yeah, Okies! An’ if you’re here when I come tomorra, I’ll run ya in.’’ He turned and walked to the next tent and banged on the canvas with his hand. “Who’s in here?’’ he said.
Ma went slowly back under the tarpaulin. She put the skillet in the utensil box. She sat down slowly. Rose of Sharon watched her secretly. And when she saw Ma fighting with her face, Rose of Sharon closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
The sun sank low in the afternoon, but the heat did not seem to decrease. Tom awakened under his willow, and his mouth was parched and his body was wet with sweat, and his head was dissatisfied with his rest. He staggered to his feet and walked toward the water. He peeled off his clothes and waded into the stream. And the moment the water was about him, his thirst was gone. He lay back in the shallows and his body floated. He held himself in place with his elbows in the sand, and looked at his toes, which bobbed above the surface.
A pale skinny little boy crept like an animal through the reeds and slipped off his clothes. And he squirmed into the water like a muskrat, and pulled himself along like a muskrat, only his eyes and nose above the surface. Then suddenly he saw Tom’s head and saw that Tom was watching him. He stopped his game and sat up.
Tom said, “Hello.’’
“ ’Lo!’’
“Looks like you was playin’ mushrat.’’
“Well, I was.’’ He edged gradually away toward the bank; he moved casually, and then he leaped out, gathered his clothes with a sweep of his arms, and was gone among the willows.
Tom laughed quietly. And then he heard his name called shrilly. “Tom, oh, Tom!’’ He sat up in the water and whistled through his teeth, a piercing whistle with a loop on the end. The willows shook, and Ruthie stood looking at him.
“Ma wants you,’’ she said. “Ma wants you right away.’’
“Awright.’’ He stood up and strode through the water to the shore; and Ruthie looked with interest and amazement at his naked body.
Tom, seeing the direction of her eyes, said, “Run on now. Git!’’ And Ruthie ran. Tom heard her calling excitedly for Winfield as she went. He put the hot clothes on his cool, wet body and he walked slowly up through the willows toward the tent.
Ma had started a fire of dry willow twigs, and she had a pan of water heating. She looked relieved when she saw him.
“What’s a matter, Ma?’’ he asked.
“I was scairt,’’ she said. “They was a policeman here. He says we can’t stay here. I was scairt he talked to you. I was scairt you