Uncle John joined them. He squatted down in front of Ma. “We didn’ get nowheres,” he said. “Jus’ run aroun’. Say, Al wants to see ya. Says he got to git a tire. Only one layer a cloth lef’, he says.” Pa stood up. “I hope he can git her cheap. We ain’t got much lef’. Where is Al?”
“Down there, to the nex’ cross-street an’ turn right. Says gonna blow out an’ spoil a tube if we don’ get a new one.” Pa strolled away, and his eyes followed the giant V of ducks down the sky.
Uncle John picked a stone from the ground and dropped it from his palm and picked it up again. He did not look at Ma. “They ain’t no work,” he said.
“You didn’ look all over,” Ma said.
“No, but they’s signs out.”
“Well, Tom musta got work. He ain’t been back.”
Uncle John suggested, “Maybe he went away—like Connie, or like Noah.”
Ma glanced sharply at him, and then her eyes softened. “They’s things you know,” she said. “They’s stuff you’re sure of. Tom’s got work, an’ he’ll come in this evenin’. That’s true.” She smiled in satisfaction. “Ain’t he a fine boy!” she said. “Ain’t he a good boy!”
The cars and trucks began to come into the camp, and the men trooped by toward the sanitary unit. And each man carried clean overalls and shirt in his hand.
Ma pulled herself together. “John, you go find Pa. Get to the store. I want beans an’ sugar an’—a piece of fryin’ meat an’ carrots an’tell Pa to get somepin nice—anything—but nice—for tonight. Tonightwe’ll have—somepin nice.”