The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [156]
“ ’Course they do.’’
“Well, s’pose them people got together an’ says, ‘Let ’em rot.’ Wouldn’ be long ’fore the price went up, by God!’’
The young man looked up from the valves, looked sardonically at Tom. “Well, you figgered out somepin, didn’ you. Come right outa your own head.’’
“I’m tar’d,’’ said Tom. “Drove all night. I don’t wanta start no argument. An’ I’m so goddamn tar’d I’d argue easy. Don’ be smart with me. I’m askin’ you.’’
The young man grinned. “I didn’ mean it. You ain’t been here. Folks figgered that out. An’ the folks with the peach orchard figgered her out too. Look, if the folks gets together, they’s a leader—got to be—fella that does the talkin’. Well, first time this fella opens his mouth they grab ’im an’ stick ’im in jail. An’ if they’s another leader pops up, why, they stick ’im in jail.’’
Tom said, “Well, a fella eats in jail anyways.’’
“His kids don’t. How’d you like to be in an’ your kids starvin’ to death?’’
“Yeah,’’ said Tom slowly. “Yeah.’’
“An’ here’s another thing. Ever hear a’ the blacklist?’’
“What’s that?’’
“Well, you jus’ open your trap about us folks gettin’ together, an’ you’ll see. They take your pitcher an’ send it all over. Then you can’t get work nowhere. An’ if you got kids——’’
Tom took off his cap and twisted it in his hands. “So we take what we can get, huh, or we starve; an’ if we yelp we starve.’’
The young man made a sweeping circle with his hand, and his hand took in the ragged tents and the rusty cars.
Tom looked down at his mother again, where she sat scraping potatoes. And the children had drawn closer. He said, “I ain’t gonna take it. Goddamn it, I an’ my folks ain’t no sheep. I’ll kick the hell outa somebody. ’’
“Like a cop?’’
“Like anybody.’’
“You’re nuts,’’ said the young man. “They’ll pick you right off. You got no name, no property. They’ll find you in a ditch, with the blood dried on your mouth an’ your nose. Be one little line in the paper—know what it’ll say? ‘Vagrant foun’ dead.’ An’ that’s all. You’ll see a lot of them little lines, ‘Vagrant foun’ dead.’ ’’
Tom said, “They’ll be somebody else foun’ dead right ’longside of this here vagrant.’’
“You’re nuts,’’ said the young man. “Won’t be no good in that.’’
“Well, what you doin’ about it?’’ He looked into the grease-streaked face. And a veil drew down over the eyes of the young man.
“Nothin’. Where you from?’’
“Us? Right near Sallisaw, Oklahoma.’’
“Jus’ get in?’’
“Jus’ today.’’
“Gonna be aroun’ here long?’’
“Don’t know. We’ll stay wherever we can get work. Why?’’
“Nothin’.’’ And the veil came down again.
“Got to sleep up,’’ said Tom. “Tomorra we’ll go out lookin’ for work.’’
“You kin try.’’
Tom turned away and moved toward the Joad tent.
The young man took up the can of valve compound and dug his finger into it. “Hi!’’ he called.
Tom turned. “What you want?’’
“I wanta tell ya.’’ He motioned with his finger, on which a blob of compound stuck. “I jus’ wanta tell ya. Don’ go lookin’ for no trouble. ’Member how that bull-simple guy looked?’’
“Fella in the tent up there?’’
“Yeah—looked dumb—no sense?’’
“What about him?’’
“Well, when the cops come in, an’ they come in all a time, that’s how you wanta be. Dumb—don’t know nothin’. Don’t understan’ nothin’. That’s how the cops like us. Don’t hit no cops. That’s jus’ suicide. Be bull-simple.’’
“Let them goddamn cops run over me, an’ me do nothin’?’’
“No, looka here. I’ll come for ya tonight. Maybe I’m wrong. There’s stools aroun’ all a time. I’m takin’ a chancet, an’ I got a kid, too. But I’ll come for ya. An’ if ya see a cop, why, you’re a goddamn dumb Okie, see?’’
“Tha’s awright if we’re doin’ anythin’,’’ said Tom.
“Don’ you worry. We’re doin’ somepin, on’y we ain’t stickin’ our necks out. A kid starves quick. Two-three days for a kid.’’ He went back to his job, spread the compound on a valve seat, and his hand jerked rapidly back and forth on the brace, and his face was dull and dumb.
Tom strolled slowly back to his camp. “Bull-simple,’’ he said under his breath.
Pa and Uncle John came toward the camp, their arms loaded with dry willow sticks, and they threw them down by the fire and squatted on their hams.