“It is good sense,” Tom insisted. “Soon’s my face gets a little better, why I’ll come out an’ go to pickin’.”
“Well, awright,” Ma agreed. “But don’ you take no chancet. Don’ let nobody see you for a while.”
Tom crawled to the back of the truck. “I’ll jus’ take this here blanket. You look for that culvert on the way back, Ma.”
“Take care,” she begged. “You take care.”
“Sure,” said Tom. “Sure I will.” He climbed the tail board, stepped down the bank. “Good night,” he said.
Ma watched his figure blur with the night and disappear into the bushes beside the stream. “Dear Jesus, I hope it’s awright,” she said.
Al asked, “You want I should go back now?”
“Yeah,” said Pa.
“Go slow,” said Ma. “I wanta be sure an’ see that culvert he said about. I got to see that.”
Al backed and filled on the narrow road, until he had reversed his direction. He drove slowly back to the line of boxcars. The truck lights showed the cat-walks up to the wide car doors. The doors were dark. No one moved in the night. Al shut off his lights.