Al came slowly out of his sullenness. “Fella tol’ me some a them people been burned out fifteen-twenty times. Says they jus’ go hide down the willows an’ then they come out an’ build ’em another weed shack. Jus’ like gophers. Got so use’ to it they don’t even get mad no more, this fella says. They jus’ figger it’s like bad weather.”
“Sure was bad weather for me that night,” said Tom. They moved up the wide highway. And the sun’s warmth made them shiver. “Gettin’ snappy in the mornin’,” said Tom. “Winter’s on the way. I jus’ hope we can get some money ’fore it comes. Tent ain’t gonna be nice in the winter.”
Ma sighed, and then she straightened her head. “Tom,” she said, “we gotta have a house in the winter. I tell ya we got to. Ruthie’s awright, but Winfiel’ ain’t so strong. We got to have a house when the rains come. I heard it jus’ rains cats aroun’ here.”
“We’ll get a house, Ma. You res’ easy. You gonna have a house.”
“Jus’ so’s it’s got a roof an’ a floor. Jus’ to keep the little fellas off’n the groun’.”
“We’ll try, Ma.”
“I don’ wanna worry ya now.”
“We’ll try, Ma.”
“I jus’ get panicky sometimes,” she said. “I jus’ lose my spunk.”
“I never seen you when you lost it.”