The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [41]
“Didn’t he write to you?’’
Joad was embarrassed. “Well, Pa wasn’t no hand to write for pretty, or to write for writin’. He’d sign up his name as nice as anybody, an’ lick his pencil. But Pa never did write no letters. He always says what he couldn’ tell a fella with his mouth wasn’t worth leanin’ on no pencil about.’’
“Been out travelin’ around?’’ Casy asked.
Joad regarded him suspiciously. “Didn’ you hear about me? I was in all the papers.’’
“No—I never. What?’’ He jerked one leg over the other and settled lower against the tree. The afternoon was advancing rapidly, and a richer tone was growing on the sun.
Joad said pleasantly, “Might’s well tell you now an’ get it over with. But if you was still preachin’ I wouldn’t tell, fear you get prayin’ over me.’’ He drained the last of the pint and flung it from him, and the flat brown bottle skidded lightly over the dust. “I been in McAlester them four years.’’
Casy swung around to him, and his brows lowered so that his tall forehead seemed even taller. “Ain’t wantin’ to talk about it, huh? I won’t ask you no questions, if you done something bad——’’
“I’d do what I done—again,’’ said Joad. “I killed a guy in a fight. We was drunk at a dance. He got a knife in me, an’ I killed him with a shovel that was layin’ there. Knocked his head plumb to squash.’’
Casy’s eyebrows resumed their normal level. “You ain’t ashamed of nothin’ then?’’
“No,’’ said Joad. “I ain’t. I got seven years, account of he had a knife in me. Got out in four—parole.’’
“Then you ain’t heard nothin’ about your folks for four years?’’
“Oh, I heard. Ma sent me a card two years ago, an’ las’ Christmus Granma sent a card. Jesus, the guys in the cell block laughed! Had a tree an’ shiny stuff looks like snow. It says in po’try:
“ ‘Merry Christmus, purty child,
Jesus meek an’ Jesus mild,
Underneath the Christmus tree
There’s a gif’ for you from me.’
I guess Granma never read it. Prob’ly got it from a drummer an’ picked out the one with the mos’ shiny stuff on it. The guys in my cell block goddamn near died laughin’. Jesus Meek they called me after that. Granma never meant it funny; she jus’ figgered it was so purty she wouldn’ bother to read it. She lost her glasses the year I went up. Maybe she never did find ’em.’’
“How they treat you in McAlester?’’ Casy asked.
“Oh, awright. You eat regular, an’ get clean clothes, and there’s places to take a bath. It’s pretty nice some ways. Makes it hard not havin’ no women.’’ Suddenly he laughed. “They was a guy paroled,’’ he said. “ ’Bout a month he’s back for breakin’ parole. A guy ast him why he bust his parole. ‘Well, hell,’ he says. ‘They got no conveniences at my old man’s place. Got no ’lectric lights, got no shower baths. There ain’t no books, an’ the food’s lousy.’ Says he come back where they got a few conveniences an’ he eats regular. He says it makes him feel lonesome out there in the open havin’ to think what to do next. So he stole a car an’ come back.’’ Joad got out his tobacco and blew a brown paper free of the pack and rolled a cigarette. “The guy’s right, too,’’ he said. “Las’ night, thinkin’ where I’m gonna sleep, I got scared. An’ I got thinkin’ about my bunk, an’ I wonder what the stir-bug I got for a cell mate is doin’. Me an’ some guys had a strang band goin’. Good one. Guy said we ought to go on the radio. An’ this mornin’ I didn’ know what time to get up. Jus’ laid there waitin’ for the bell to go off.’’
Casy chuckled. “Fella can get so he misses the noise of a saw mill.’’
The yellowing, dusty, afternoon light put a golden color on the land. The cornstalks looked golden. A flight of swallows swooped overhead toward some waterhole. The turtle in Joad’s coat began a new campaign of escape. Joad creased the visor of his cap. It was getting the long protruding curve of a crow’s beak now. “Guess I’ll mosey along,’’ he said. “I hate to hit the sun, but it ain’t so bad now.’’
Casy pulled himself together. “I ain’t seen ol’ Tom in a bug’s age,’’ he said. “I was gonna look in on him anyways. I brang Jesus to your folks for a long time, an