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Chapter 22
Tomsaid,«How’boutthisfight(umph!)atthedance,hetol’about(umph)?Whattheywantadothatfor?»
TimothyfollowedbehindWilkie,andTimothy’sshovelbeveledthebottomoftheditchandsmootheditreadyforthepipe.«Seemsliketheygottodriveus,"Timothysaid.«They’rescairtwe’llorganize,Iguess.An’maybethey’reright.Thisherecampisaorganization.Peopletherelookoutfortheirselves.Gottheniceststrangbandintheseparts.Gotalittlechargeaccountinthestoreforfolksthat’shungry.Fi’dollars—youcangitthatmuchfoodan’thecamp’llstan’good.Weain’tneverhadnotroublewiththelaw.Iguessthebigfarmersisscairtofthat.Can’tthrowusinjail—why,itscares’em.Figgermaybeifwecangove’nourselves,maybewe’lldootherthings.»
Tomsteppedclearoftheditchandwipedthesweatoutofhiseyes.«Youhearwhatthatpapersaid’boutagitatorsupnorthaBakersfiel’?»
«Sure,"saidWilkie.«Theydothatallatime.»
«Well,Iwasthere.Theywasn’tnoagitators.Whattheycallreds.Whatthehellistheseredsanyways?»
Timothyscrapedalittlehilllevelinthebottomoftheditch.Thesunmadehiswhitebristlebeardshine.«They’salotoffellaswantaknowwhatredsis.»Helaughed.«Oneofourboysfoun’out.»Hepattedthepiledearthgentlywithhisshovel.«FellanamedHines—got’boutthirtythousandacres,peachesandgrapes—gotacanneryan’awinery.Well,he’sallatimetalkin’about’themgoddamnreds.’
