The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [144]
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’d hit him if he talked to you.’’
Tom said, “What’d I go an’ hit a policeman for?’’
Ma smiled. “Well—he talked so bad—I nearly hit him myself.’’
Tom grabbed her arm and shook her roughly and loosely, and he laughed. He sat down on the ground, still laughing. “My God, Ma. I knowed you when you was gentle. What’s come over you?’’
She looked serious. “I don’ know, Tom.’’
“Fust you stan’ us off with a jack handle, and now you try to hit a cop.’’ He laughed softly, and he reached out and patted her bare foot tenderly. “A ol’ hell-cat,’’ he said.
“Tom.’’
“Yeah?’’
She hesitated a long time. “Tom, this here policeman—he called us— Okies. He says, ‘We don’ want you goddamn Okies settlin’ down.’ ’’
Tom studied her, and his hand still rested gently on her bare foot. “Fella tol’ about that,’’ he said. “Fella tol’ how they say it.’’ He considered, “Ma, would you say I was a bad fella? Oughta be locked up—like that?’’
“No,’’ she said. “You been tried— No. What you ast me for?’’
“Well, I dunno. I’d a took a sock at that cop.’’
Ma smiled with amusement. “Maybe I oughta ast you that, ’cause I nearly hit ’im with a skillet.’’
“Ma, why’d he say we couldn’ stop here?’’
“Jus’ says they don’ want no damn Okies settlin’ down. Says he’s gonna run us in if we’re here tomorra.’’
“But we ain’t use’ ta gettin’ shoved aroun’ by no cops.’’
“I tol’ him that,’’ said Ma. “He says we ain’t home now. We’re in California, and they do what they want.’’
Tom said uneasily, “Ma, I got somepin to tell ya. Noah—he went on down the river. He ain’t a-goin’ on.’’
It took a moment for Ma to understand. “Why?’’ she asked softly.
“I don’ know. Says he got to. Says he got to stay. Says for me to tell you.’’
“How’ll he eat?’’ she demanded.
“I don’ know. Says he’ll catch fish.’’
Ma was silent a long time. “Family’s fallin’ apart,’’ she said. “I don’ know. Seems like I can’t think no more. I jus’ can’t think. They’s too much.’’
Tom said lamely, “He’ll be awright, Ma. He’s a funny kind a fella.’’
Ma turned stunned eyes toward the river. “I jus’ can’t seem to think no more.’’
Tom looked down the line of tents and he saw Ruthie and Winfield standing in front of a tent in decorous conversation with someone inside. Ruthie was twisting her skirt in her hands, while Winfield dug a hole in the ground with his