“Well, I dunno. I’d a took a sock at that cop.”
Ma smiled with amusement. “Maybe I oughta ast you that, ’cause I nearly hit ’im with a skillet.”
“Ma, why’d he say we couldn’ stop here?”
“Jus’ says they don’ want no damn Okies settlin’ down. Says he gonna run us in if we’re here tomorra.”
“But we ain’t use’ ta gettin’ shoved aroun’ by no cops.”
“I tol’ him that,” said Ma. “He says we ain’t home now. We’re in California, and they do what they want.”
Tom said uneasily, “Ma, I got somepin to tell ya. Noah—he went on down the river. He ain’t a-goin’ on.”
It took a moment for Ma to understand. “Why?” she asked softly.
“I don’ know. Says he got to. Says he got to stay. Says for me to tell you.”
“How’ll he eat?” she demanded.