Гроздья гнева
Chapter 20
Floydslowedhisjerkingarm.Heliftedthelastvalvefromitsseatandlookedatit.«Youbettergituse’taajalopy,"hesaid,«’causeyouain’tgoin’adriveno16.»Heputhisbracedownontherunningboardandtookupachiseltoscrapethecrustfromtheblock.Twostockywomen,bare-headedandbare-footed,wentbycarryingabucketofmilkywaterbetweenthem.Theylimpedagainsttheweightofthebucket,andneitheronelookedupfromtheground.Thesunwashalfdowninafternoon.
Alsaid,«Youdon’tlikenothin’much.»
Floydscrapedharderwiththechisel.«Ibeenheresixmonths,"hesaid.«Ibeenscrabblin’overthishereStatetryin’toworkhardenoughandmovefastenoughtogetmeatan’potatoesformean’mywifean’mykids.I’verunmyselflikeajackrabbitan’—Ican’tquitemakeher.Therejustain’tquiteenoughtoeatnomatterwhatIdo.I’mgettin’tired,that’sall.I’mgettin’tiredwaypastwheresleeprestsme.An’Ijus’don’knowwhattodo.»
«Ain’ttherenosteadyworkforafella?»Alasked.
«No,theyain’tnosteadywork.»Withhischiselhepushedthecrustofftheblock,andhewipedthedullmetalwithagreasyrag.
Arustytouringcardrovedownintothecampandtherewerefourmeninit,menwithbrownhardfaces.Thecardroveslowlythroughthecamp.Floydcalledtothem,«Anyluck?»
Thecarstopped.Thedriversaid,«Wecoveredahellofalotofground.Theyain’tahand’sworkinthisherecountry.Wegottamove.»
«Whereto?»Alcalled.
«Godknows.
