The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [246]
“Maybe it’s wet.’’
“Didn’ rain enough. Come on now, drink your coffee. Al, soon’s you’re through, better get the engine runnin’.’’
She called, “You near ready, Mis’ Wainwright?’’
“Jus’ eatin’. Be ready in a minute.’’
Outside, the camp had come to life. Fires burned in front of the tents. The stovepipes from the boxcars spurted smoke.
Al tipped up his coffee and got a mouthful of grounds. He went down the cat-walk spitting them out.
“We’re awready, Mis’ Wainwright,’’ Ma called. She turned to Rose of Sharon. She said, “You got to stay.”
The girl set her jaw. “I’m a-goin’,’’ she said. “Ma, I got to go.’’
“Well, you got no cotton sack. You can’t pull no sack.’’
“I’ll pick into your sack.’’
“I wisht you wouldn’.’’
“I’m a-goin’.’’
Ma sighed. “I’ll keep my eye on you. Wisht we could have a doctor.’’ Rose of Sharon moved nervously about the car. She put on a light coat and took it off. “Take a blanket,’’ Ma said. “Then if you wanta res’, you can keep warm.’’ They heard the truck motor roar up behind the boxcar. “We gonna be first out,’’ Ma said exultantly. “Awright, get your sacks. Ruthie, don’ you forget them shirts I fixed for you to pick in.’’
Wainwrights and Joads climbed into the truck in the dark. The dawn was coming, but it was slow and pale.
“Turn lef’,” Ma told Al. “They’ll be a sign out where we’re goin’.’’ They drove along the dark road. And other cars followed them, and behind, in the camp, the cars were being started, the families piling in; and the cars pulled out on the highway and turned left.
A piece of cardboard was tied to a mailbox on the right-hand side of the road, and on it, printed with blue crayon, “Cotton Pickers Wanted.’’ Al turned into the entrance and drove out to the barnyard. And the barnyard was full of cars already. An electric globe on the end of the white barn lighted a group of men and women standing near the scales, their bags rolled under their arms. Some of the women wore the bags over their shoulders and crossed in front.
“We ain’t so early as we thought,’’ said Al. He pulled the truck against a fence and parked. The families climbed down and went to join the waiting group, and more cars came in from the road and parked, and more families joined the group. Under the light on the barn end, the owner signed them in.
“Hawley?’’ he said. “H-a-w-l-e-y? How many?’’
“Four. Will——’’
“Will.’’
“Benton——’’
“Benton.’’
“Amelia——’’
“Amelia.’’
“Claire——’’
“Claire. Who’s next? Carpenter? How many?’’
“Six.’’
He wrote them in the book, with a space left for the weights. “Got your bags? I got a few. Cost you a dollar.’’ And the cars poured into the yard. The owner pulled his sheep-lined leather jacket up around his throat. He looked at the driveway apprehensively. “This twenty isn’t gonna take long to pick with all these people,’’ he said.
Children were climbing into the big cotton trailer, digging their toes into the chicken-wire sides. “Git off there,’’ the owner cried. “Come on down. You’ll tear that wire loose.’’ And the children climbed slowly down, embarrassed and silent. The gray dawn came. “I’ll have to take a tare for dew,’’ the owner said. “Change it when the sun comes out. All right, go out when you want. Light enough to see.’’
The people moved quickly out into the cotton field and took their rows. They tied the bags to their waists and they slapped their hands together to warm stiff fingers that had to be nimble. The dawn colored over the eastern hills, and the wide line moved over the rows. And from the highway the cars still moved in and parked in the barnyard until it was full, and they parked along the road on both sides. The wind blew briskly across the field. “I don’t know how you all found out,’’ the owner said. “There must be a hell of a grapevine. The twenty won’t last till noon. What name? Hume? How many?’’
The line of people moved out across the field, and the strong steady west wind blew their clothes. Their fingers flew to the spilling bolls, and flew to the long sacks growing heavy behind them.
Pa spoke to the man in the row to his right. “Back home we might get rain out of a wind like this. Seems a little mite frosty for rain. How long you been out here?