Maybe the preacher don’ wanta stay.”
“Well—whoever—I don’ care,” said Tom.
Pa scratched the dry earth with his forefinger. “I kind a got a notion Tom’s right,” he said. “It ain’t goin’ ta do no good all of us stayin’ here. We can get fifty, a hunderd miles on ’fore dark.” Ma said worriedly, “How you gonna find us?”
“We’ll be on the same road,” said Tom. “Sixty-six right on through. Come to a place name’ Bakersfiel’. Seen it on the map I got. You go straight on there.”
“Yeah, but when we get to California an’ spread out sideways off this road-?”
“Don’t you worry,” Tom reassured her. “We’re gonna find ya.
California ain’t the whole world.”
“Looks like an awful big place on the map,” said Ma.
Pa appealed for advice. “John, you see any reason why not?”
“No,” said John.