Гроздья гнева
Chapter 19
’Notherplace’llbeallchickens.Theybuythestufftheycouldraiseinthedooryard.
Jesus,whatIcoulddowithacouplepigs!
Well,itain’tyourn,an’itain’tgonnabeyourn.
Whatwegonnado?Thekidscan’tgrowupthisway.
Inthecampsthewordwouldcomewhispering,There’sworkatShafter.Andthecarswouldbeloadedinthenight,thehighwayscrowded—agoldrushforwork.AtShafterthepeoplewouldpileup,fivetimestoomanytodothework.Agoldrushforwork.Theystoleawayinthenight,franticforwork.Andalongtheroadslaythetemptations,thefieldsthatcouldbearfood.
That’sowned.Thatain’tour’n.
Well,maybewecouldgetalittlepieceofher.Maybe—alittlepiece.Rightdownthere—apatch.Jimsonweednow.Christ,Icouldgitenoughpotatoesoff’nthatlittlepatchtofeedmywholefamily!
Itain’tour’n.ItgottohaveJimsonweeds.
Nowandthenamantried;creptonthelandandclearedapiece,tryinglikeathieftostealalittlerichnessfromtheearth.Secretgardenshiddenintheweeds.Apackageofcarrotseedsandafewturnips.Plantedpotatoskins,creptoutintheeveningsecretlytohoeinthestolenearth.
Leavetheweedsaroundtheedge—thennobodycanseewhatwe’rea-doin’.Leavesomeweeds,bigtallones,inthemiddle.Secretgardeningintheevenings,andwatercarriedinarustycan.Andthenonedayadeputysheriff:Well,whatyouthinkyou’redoin’?
Iain’tdoin’noharm.
Ihadmyeyeonyou.Thisain’tyourland.You’retrespassing.
