OUT IN THE DARK YARD, working in the lantern light, Pa and Al loaded the truck. Tools on the bottom, but handy to reach in case of a breakdown. Boxes of clothes next, and kitchen utensils in a gunny sack; cutlery and dishes in their box. Then the gallon bucket tied on behind. They made the bottom of the load as even as possible, and filled the spaces between boxes with rolled blankets. Then over the top they laid the mattresses, filling the truck in level. And last they spread the big tarpaulin over the load and Al made holes in the edge, two feet apart, and inserted little ropes, and tied it down to the side-bars of the truck.
“Now, if it rains,” he said, “we’ll tie it to the bar above, an’ the folks can get underneath, out of the wet. Up front we’ll be dry enough.”
And Pa applauded. “That’s a good idear.”
“That ain’t all,” Al said. “First chance I git I’m gonna fin’ a long plank an’ make a ridge pole, an’ put the tarp over that. An’ then it’ll be covered in, an’ the folks’ll be outa the sun, too.”
And Pa agreed, “That’s a good idear. Whyn’t you think a that before?”
“I ain’t had time,” said Al.
“Ain’t had time? Why, Al, you had time to coyote all over the country. God knows where you been this las’ two weeks.”
“Stuff a fella got to do when he’s leavin’ the country,” said Al. And then he lost some of his assurance. “Pa,” he asked. “You glad to be goin’, Pa?”
“Huh? Well—sure. Leastwise yeah. We had hard times here. ’Course it’ll be all different out there—plenty work, an’ ever’thing nice an’ green, an’ little white houses an’ oranges growin’ aroun’.”
“Is it all oranges ever’where?”