“Mr. Wilson, it’s your car. You got any objections if my boy fixes her an’ brings her on?”
“I don’t see none,” said Wilson. “Seems like you folks done ever’thing for us awready. Don’ see why I cain’t give your boy a han’.”
“You can be workin’, layin’ in a little money, if we don’ ketch up with ya,” said Tom. “An’ suppose we all jus’ lay aroun’ here. There ain’t no water here, an’ we can’t move this here car. But s’pose you all git out there an’ git to work. Why, you’d have money, an’ maybe a house to live in. How about it, Casy? Wanna stay with me an’ gimme a lif’?”
“I wanna do what’s bes’ for you folks,” said Casy. “You took me in, carried me along. I’ll do whatever.”
“Well, you’ll lay on your back an’ get grease in your face if you stay here,” Tom said.
“Suits me awright.”
Pa said, “Well, if that’s the way she’s gonna go, we better get a-shovin’. We can maybe squeeze in a hunderd miles ’fore we stop.” Ma stepped in front of him. “I ain’t a-gonna go.”
“What you mean, you ain’t gonna go? You got to go. You got to look after the family.” Pa was amazed at the revolt.
Ma stepped to the touring car and reached in on the floor of the back seat. She brought out a jack handle and balanced it in her hand easily. “I ain’t a-gonna go,” she said.
“I tell you, you got to go. We made up our mind.”