Гроздья гнева
Chapter 8
He’sjustasquirt,an’punkin-soft.ButIwasolder.An’wewastothisherecampmeetin’.Fivehunderdfolksthere,an’apropersprinklin’ofyoungheifers.
"Youlooklikeahelleryet,Grampa,"saidTom.
"Well,Iam,kinda.ButIain’tnowheresnearthefellaIwas.Jus’letmegetouttoCaliforniawhereIcanpickmeanorangewhenIwantit.Orgrapes.There’sathingIain’tneverhadenoughof.Gonnagetmeawholebigbunchofgrapesoffabush,orwhatever,an’I’mgonnasquash’emonmyfacean’let’emrunoffenmychin."
Tomasked,"Where’sUncleJohn?Where’sRosasharn?Where’sRuthiean’Winfield?Nobodysaidnothin’aboutthemyet."
Pasaid,"Nobodyasked.JohngonetoSallisawwithaloadastufftosell:pump,tools,chickens,an’allthestuffwebrungover.TookRuthiean’Winfieldwith’im.Went’foredaylight."
"FunnyIneversawhim,"saidTom.
"Well,youcomedownfromthehighway,didn’tyou?Hetookthebackway,byCowlington.An’Rosasharn,she’snestin’withConnie’sfolks.ByGod!Youdon’tevenknowRosasharn’smarriedtoConnieRivers.You’memberConnie.Niceyoungfella.An’Rosasharn’sdue’boutthree-four-fivemonthsnow.Swellin’uprightnow.Looksfine."
"Jesus!"saidTom."Rosasharnwasjustalittlekid.An’nowshe’sgonnahaveababy.Sodamnmuchhappensinfouryearsifyou’reaway.Whenyathinktostartoutwest,Pa?"
"Well,wegottotakethisstuffinan’sellit.
