“Can’t tell,” he said importantly. “Can’t really rightly tell. Fella oughta be studied up pretty good ’fore Christmus.”
“Soon’s you get studied up we could get ice an’ stuff, I guess.”
He chuckled. “It’s this here heat,” he said. “What you gonna need ice roun’ Christmus for?”
She giggled. “Tha’s right. But I’d like ice any time. Now don’t. You’ll get me crazy!”
The dusk passed into dark and the desert stars came out in the soft sky, stars stabbing and sharp, with few points and rays to them, and the sky was velvet. And the heat changed. While the sun was up, it was a beating, flailing heat, but now the heat came from below, from the earth itself, and the heat was thick and muffling. The lights of the truck came on, and they illuminated a little blur of highway ahead, and a strip of desert on either side of the road. And sometimes eyes gleamed in the lights far ahead, but no animal showed in the lights. It was pitch dark under the canvas now. Uncle John and the preacher were curled in the middle of the truck, resting on their elbows, and staring out the back triangle. They could see the two bumps that were Ma and Granma against the outside. They could see Ma move occasionally, and her dark arm moving against the outside. Uncle John talked to the preacher. “Casy,” he said, “you’re a fella oughta know what to do.”
“What to do about what?”
“I dunno,” said Uncle John.
Casy said, “Well, that’s gonna make it easy for me!”
“Well, you been a preacher.”
“Look, John, ever’body takes a crack at me ’cause I been a preacher.