E:25C - Of Mice and Men - Chapter 3

[MUSIC] Hello there, and welcome to Sarah's Bookshelf. That's me, Sarah, and I am so excited to have you here with me. This is a podcast where I share my love of literature and storytelling with you. And together, we get to read some of the world's best stories. So let's get started. Today, we are continuing the novella of "Mice and Men" written in 1937 by John Steinbeck. You'll have to bear with me through my terrible attempt at an accent, but it's a tough text to read without implying one. So I hope you'll bear with me. [MUSIC] And just a quick disclaimer before we begin. Because of the time in which this story was written, there are several terms and phrases used to describe humans from different walks of life that we no longer use or accept because they are demeaning and inhumane. I have left them in this telling to keep it true to the text. But I also didn't want to leave that unaddressed. We cannot change how things were, but we can acknowledge them and learn and grow together. The language that we use and the way we talk to and about other humans matters deeply. If you would like to talk about this, there's an email in the show notes and I would be more than happy to hear from you. Let us be conscious of how we treat one another and make the world a better place for all of us together. [MUSIC] Chapter 3 Although there was evening brightness showing through the windows of the bunk house, and inside it was dusk. Through the open door came the thuds and occasional clanks of a horseshoe game. And now and then the sound of voices raised in approval or derision. Slim and George came into the darkening bunk house together. Slim reached up over the card table and turned on the thin shaded electric light. Instantly the table was brilliant with light and the cone of the shade through its brightness straight downward, leaving the corners of the bunk house still in dusk. Slim sat down on a box and George took his place opposite. "It was nothing," said Slim. "I would have had to drown most of them anyways. No need to thank me about that." George said, "It wasn't much to you, maybe, but it was a hell of a lot to him. Jesus Christ, I don't know how we're gonna get him to sleep in here. He'll want to sleep right in the barn with him. We'll have trouble getting him from getting right in the box with them, pups." It wasn't nothing. Slim repeated. "Say, you sure was right about him. Maybe he ain't right, but I've never seen such a worker. He damn nearly killed his partner, Buck and Barley." "There ain't nobody can keep up with him. God Almighty, I never seen such a strong guy." "Just tell Lenny what to do and he'll do it if it don't take no figuring. He can't think of nothing to do himself, but he sure can take orders." There was a clang of horseshoe on iron stake outside, a little cheer of voices. Slim moved back slightly so the light was not on his face. Funny how you and him string along together. It was Slim's calm invitation to confidence. "What's funny about it?" George demanded defensively. "Oh, I don't know. I hardly never seen two guys travel together. You know how the hands are. They just come in and get their bunk and work a month, and then they quit and go out alone. Never seem to give a damn about nobody." "Just seems kind of funny, a cuckoo like him and a smart guy like you traveling together?" "He ain't no cuckoo," said George. "He's dumb as hell, but he ain't crazy. And I ain't so bright neither, or I wouldn't be bucking Barley for my 50 and found." If I was bright, if I was even a little bit smart, I'd have had my own little place, and I'd be bringing in my own crops instead of doing all the work and not getting what comes up out of the ground." George fell silent. He wanted to talk. Slim neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He just sat back quiet and receptive. "It ain't so funny, him and me going round together?" George said it last. "Him and me was both born and obber. I know it is Aunt Clara. She took him when he was a baby and raised him up. When his Aunt Clara died, Lenny just came along with me out working." "Got kind of used to each other after a little while." "Hmm," said Slim. George looked over at Slim and saw the calm, god-like eyes fastened on him. "Funny," said George. "I used to have a hell of a lot of fun with him. I used to play jokes on him because he was too dumb to take care of himself. But he was too dumb even to know he had a joke played on him. I had fun." "Made me seem goddamn smart alongside of him." "Why, he'd do any damn thing I told him. If I told him to walk over a cliff, over he'd go." "That wasn't so damn much fun after a while. He never got mad about it neither. I've beat the hell out of him. And he could have bust every bone in my body just with his hands and he never lifted a finger against me." George's voice was taking on the tone of a confession. "Tell you what made me stop that. One day a bunch of guys were standing around up on the Sacramento River. I was feeling pretty smart. I turned to Lenny and says, "Jump in." And he jumps. Couldn't swim a stroke. He'd amneared drown before we could get him. And he was so damn nice to me for pulling him out. "Clean for God. I told him to jump in while I ain't done nothing like that no more." "He's a nice fella," said Slim. "God don't need no sense to be a nice fella." "Seems to me sometimes it just works the other way around. Take a real smart guy and he ain't hardly ever a nice fella." George stacked the scattered cards and began to lay out his solitaire hand. The shoes thutted on the ground outside. At the windows, the light of the evening still made the window squares bright. "I ain't got no people," George said. "I've seen the guys that go around on the ranches alone. That ain't no good. They don't have no fun." After a long time, they get mean. They get wanting to fight all the time. "Yeah, they get mean," Slim agreed. "They get so they don't want to talk to nobody." "Of course," Lenny said, "God damn nuisance most of the time," said George. "But you ain't used to going around with a guy and you can't get rid of him." "He ain't mean," said Slim. "I can see Lenny ain't a bit mean." "Course he ain't mean. But he gets in trouble all of the time. 'Cause he's so goddamn dumb. Like what happened in weed?" He stopped. Stopped in the middle of turning over a card. He looked alarmed and peered over at Slim. "You wouldn't tell nobody." "What did he do in weed?" Slim asked calmly. "You wouldn't tell. Not, of course you wouldn't." "What did he do in weed?" Slim asked again. "Well, he's seen this girl in a red dress. Dumb bastard like he is. He wants to touch everything he likes. Just wants to feel it." So he reaches out to feel this red dress and the girl lets out a squawk. And that gets Lenny all mixed up and he holds on 'cause that's the only thing he can think to do. "Well, this girl squawks and squawks. I was just a little bit off and I heard all the yelling. So I comes running and by that time Lenny's so scared all he can think to do is just hold on." I socked him over the head with a fence picket to make him let go. He was so scared he couldn't let go of that dress and he's so goddamn strong, you know? Slim's eyes were level and unwinking. He nodded very slowly. So what happens? "George carefully built his line of solitary carts. Well, that girl rabbits in and tells the law she's been raped. The guys in weed start a party out to lynch Lenny. So we sit in an irrigation ditch under water all the rest of that day. Got only your head sticking out of the water and up under the grass that sticks out from the side of the ditch and that night we scrammed out of there." Slim sat in silence for a moment. He didn't hurt the girl none. He asked finally. "Hell no. He just scared her. I'd be scared too if he grabbed me." But he never heard her. He just wanted to touch the dress like he wants to pet them pups all the time. "Yeah, he ain't mean," said Slim. "I can tell a mean guy a mile off. Course he ain't. And he'll do any damn thing I." Lenny came in through the door. He wore his blue denim coat over his shoulders like a cape and he walked hunched way over. "Hi Lenny," said George. "How you like the pup now?" Lenny said breathlessly. "He's brown and white just like how wanted." He went directly to his bunk and lay down and turned his face to the wall and drew up his knees. George put down his cards very deliberately. Lenny, he said sharply. Lenny twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, what you want, George?" "I told you you couldn't bring that pup in here." "Well, pup, George. I ain't got no pup." George went quickly to him and grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him over. He reached down and picked the tiny pup from where Lenny had been concealing it against his stomach. Lenny sat up quickly. "Give him to me, George." George said. "You get right up and take this pup back to the nest. He's got to sleep with his mother. You want to kill him?" "Just born last night and you take him out of the nest. You take him back or I'll tell Slim not to let you have him." Lenny held out his hands pleadingly. "Give him to me, George. I'll take him back. I didn't mean no harm, George. honest. I did and I just wanted to pit him a little." George handed the pup to him. "All right. You get him back there quick and don't you take him out no more. You'll kill him. The first thing you know." Lenny fairly scuttled out of the room. Slim had not moved. His calm eyes followed Lenny out the door. "Jesus," he said. "He's just like a kid, ain't he?" "Sure, he's just like a kid. There ain't no more harm in him than a kid neither, except he's so strong." "I bet he won't come in here to sleep tonight. He'd sleep right alongside that box in the barn. We'll let him. He ain't doing no harm out there." It was almost dark outside now. Old Candy, the swamper, came in and went to his bunk and behind him struggled his old dog. "Hello, Slim. Hello, George. Didn't neither you play horseshoes?" "I don't like to play every night," said Slim. Candy went on. "Either you guys got a slug of whiskey. I got a good ache. I ain't," said Slim. "I'd drink it myself if I hadn't. I ain't got a good ache, neither." "Got a bad good ache," said Candy. "Then God damn turnips give it to me. I know they was going to before I ever eat 'em." The thick-bodied Carlson came in out of the darkening yard. He walked to the other end of the bunk house and turned on the second shaded light. "Darker and hell in here," he said. "Jesus, how that nigger can pitch shoes." "Yeah, he's plenty good," said Slim. "Damn right he is," said Carlson. "He don't give nobody else a chance to win." He stopped and sniffed the air. And still sniffed and looked down at the old dog. "God, I'm mighty that dog stinks. Get him out of here, Candy. I don't know nothing that stinks as bad as an old dog. You gotta get him out." Candy rolled to the edge of his bunk. He reached over and patted the ancient dog and he apologized. "I've been around him so much I never notice how he stinks." "Well, I can't stand him in here," said Carlson. "That stink hangs around even after he's gone." He walked over with his heavy-legged stride and looked down at the dog. "Got no teeth," he said. "He's all stiff with rheumatism. He ain't no good to you, Candy. And he ain't no good to himself. Why don't you shoot him, Candy?" The old man squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, hell, I had him so long. Had him since he was a pup. I heard in sheep with him," he said proudly. "You wouldn't think it to look at him now, but he was the best damn sheep dog I ever seen." George said, "I seen a guy in weed that had an air-dail could hurt sheep. Learned it from the other dogs." Carlson was not to be put off. "Look, Candy. This dog just suffers himself all the time. If you were to take him out and shoot him right in the back of the head, you leaned over and pointed right there. Why, he'd never know what hit him." Candy looked about unhappy. "No," he said softly. "No, I couldn't do that. I had him too long." "He don't have no fun," Carlson insisted. "And he stinks to beat hell. Tell you what, I'll shoot him for you. Then it won't be you that does it." Candy threw his legs off his bunk. He scratched the white stubble whiskers on his cheek nervously. "I'm so used to him," he said softly. "I had him from a pup." "Well, you ain't being kind to him, keeping him alive," said Carlson. "Look, Slim's bitch got a litter right now. I bet Slim would give you one of them pups to raise up. Wouldn't you, Slim?" The Skinner had been studying the old dog with his calm eyes. "Yeah," he said. "You can have a pup if you wanna." He seemed to shake himself free for speech. Carl's right, Candy. That dog ain't no good to himself. I wish somebody had shoot me if I get old in a cripple." Candy looked helplessly at him. For Slim's opinions were law. "Maybe it had hurt him," he suggested. "I don't mind taking care of him." Carlson said. "The way I'd shoot him, he wouldn't feel nothing. I'd put the gun right there," he pointed with his toe. Right back of the head, he wouldn't even quiver. Candy looked for help from face to face. It was quite dark outside by now. A young, laboring man came in. His sloping shoulders were bent forward and he walked heavily on his heels as though he carried the invisible grain bag. He went to his bunk and put his hat on a shelf. Then he picked up a pulp magazine from his shelf and brought it to the light over the table. "Did I show you this, Slim?" he asked. "Show me what?" The young man turned to the back of the magazine, put it down on the table and pointed with his finger. "Right here, read that." Slim bent over it. "Go on," said the young man, "read it out loud." "Dear editor," Slim read slowly. "I read your mag for six years and I think it is the best on the market. I like stories by Peter Rand. I think he is a wing-ding. Give us more like the dark rider. I don't write many letters. Just thought I would tell you I think your mag is the best dime's worth I ever spanned." Slim looked up questioning me. "What'd you want me to read that for?" Whit said, "Go on, read the name at the bottom." "Slim read. Yours for success, William Tanner." He glanced up at Whit again. "What'd you want me to read that for?" Whit closed the magazine impressively. "Don't you remember Bill Tanner worked here about three months ago?" Slim thought. "Little guy?" he asked. "Drove a cultivator." "That's him?" Whit cried. "That's the guy." "You think he's the guy wrote this letter?" "I know it." Bill and me was in here one day. Bill had one of them books that just come. He was looking in it and he says, "I wrote a letter. I wonder if they put it in the book." But it wasn't there. Bill says, "Maybe they're saving it for later. And that's just what they done. There it is." "Guess you're right," said Slim. "Got it right in the book." George held out his hand for the magazine. "Let's look at it." Whit found the place again, but he did not surrender his hold on it. He pointed out the letter with his forefinger. And then he went to his box shelf and laid the magazine carefully in. "I wonder if Bill seen it," he said. "Bill and me worked in that patch of field piece. Run cultivator." Bill was a hell of a nassfella. During the conversation, Carlson had refused to be drawn in. He continued to look down at the old dock. Candy watched him one easily. At last, Carlson said, "If you want me to, I'll put the old devil out of his misery right now and get it over with." Nothing left for him. Candy, can't see, can't even walk without hurting. Candy said, "Hopefully, you ain't got no gun. The hell I ain't got a luke. Won't hurt him none at all." Candy said, "Maybe tomorrow, let's wait till tomorrow. I don't see no reason for it," said Carlson. He went to his bunk, pulled his bag from underneath it, and took out a luger pistol. "Let's get it over with," he said. "We can't sleep with him stinking around in here." He put the pistol in his hip pocket. Candy looked a long time at Slim to try and find some reversal. And Slim gave him none. At last, Candy said softly and hopelessly. "Alright, take him." He did not look down at the dog at all. He lay back on his bunk and crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. From his pocket, Carlson took a little leather thong. He stooped over and tied it around the dog's neck. All the men except Candy watched him. "Come boy, come on," he said gently. And he set apologetically to Candy. "He won't even feel it." Candy did not move nor answer him. He twitched the thong. "Come on, boy." The old dog got slowly and stiffly to his feet and followed the gently pulling leash. Slim said, "Carlson, yeah, you know what to do." "What do you mean, Slim?" "Take a shovel," said Slim shortly. "Oh, sure, I get you." He led the dog out into the darkness. George followed to the door and shut the door and set the latch gently in its place. Candy lay rigidly on his bed staring at the ceiling. Slim said loudly, "One of my lead mules got a bad hoof. Gotta get some tar on." His voice trailed off. It was silent outside. Carlson's footsteps died away. The silence came into the room and the silence lasted. George chuckled. "I bet Lenny's right out there in the barn with his pup." He won't want to come in here no more. Now he's got a pup. Slim said, "Candy, you can have any one of them pups you want." Candy didn't answer. The silence fell on the room again. It came out of the night and invaded the room. George said, "Anybody like to play a little yuker?" "I'll play out a few with you," Whit said. They took places opposite each other at the table under the light, but George did not shuffle the cards. He rippled the edge of the deck nervously and the little snapping noise drew the eyes of all the men in the room so that he stopped doing it. A minute passed and another minute. Candy lay still staring at the ceiling. Slim gazed at him for a moment and then looked down at his hands. He subdued one hand with the other and held it down. There came a little gnawing sound from under the floor and all the men looked down toward it gratefully. Only Candy continued to stare at the ceiling. "Sounds like there's a rat under there," said George. "We ought to get a trap down there." Whit broke out, "What the hell's taking him so long? Lay out some cards, why don't you? We ain't gonna get no yuker played this way." George brought the cards together tightly and studied the backs of them. The silence was in the room again. A shot sounded in the distance. The men looked quickly at the old man. Every head turned toward him. For a moment he continued to stare at the ceiling. Then he rolled slowly over and faced the wall and lay silent. George shuffled the cards noisily and dealt them. Whit drew a scoring board to him and set the pegs to start. Whit said, "I guess you guys really come here to work." "How do you mean?" George asked. Whit laughed, "Well, you come on a Friday, you got two days to work till Sunday." "I don't see how you figure," said George. Whit laughed again. "You do if you've been around these big ranch as much." Gather wants to look over her ranch, comes in Saturday afternoon. He gets Saturday night supper, three meals on Sunday. And he can quit Monday morning after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Friday noon. You ought to put it in a day and a half no matter how you figure. George looked at him lovely. "We're going to stick around a while," he said. Man Lenny's going to roll up a stake. The door opened quickly and the stable-buck put it in his head. A lean, knee-grow head lined with pain. The eyes, patient. Mr. Slim? Slim took his eyes from Old Candy. Huh? Oh, hello, Crooks. What's the matter? "You told me to warm up tar for that mule's foot. I got it warm." "Oh, sure, Crooks. I'll come right out and put it on." "I can do it if you want, Mr. Slim." "No, I'll come do it myself." He stood up. Crooks said, "Mr. Slim?" "Yeah." "That big new guy's messing around your pups out in the barn." "Well, he ain't doing no harm. I gave him one of the pups." "Just thought I'd tell you," said Crooks. "He's taking him out to the nest and handling him. That won't do him no good." "He won't hurt him," said Slim. "I'll come along with you now." George looked up. If that crazy bastard's fooling around too much, just kick him out, Slim. Slim followed the stable-buck out of the room. George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. "Seeing the new kid yet?" he asked. "What kid?" George asked. "Why? Curly's new wife." "Yeah, I seen her." "Well, ain't she a Lulu?" "I ain't seen that much of her," said George. Whit laid down his cards impressively. "Well, stick around and keep your eyes open. You'll see plenty. She ain't concealing nothing. I never seen nobody like her. She got the eye going all the time on everybody. But she even gives the stable-buck the eye. I don't know what the hell she wants." George asked casually. "Bin any troubles since she got here?" It was obvious that Whit was not interested in his cards. He laid his hand down and George scooped it in. George laid out his deliberate solitaire hand. Seven cards, six on top and five on top of those. Whit said, "I see what you mean." "No, they ain't been nothing yet." Curly's got yellow jackets in his drawers, but that's all so far. Every time the guys is around, she shows up. She's looking for Curly or she thought she left something out laying around and she's looking for it. Seems like she can't keep away from the guys. Curly's pants is just crawling with ants, but they ain't nothing come out of it yet. George said, "She's gonna make a mess. They's gonna be a bad mess about her. She's a jail bait all set on the trigger." That Curly's got his work cut out for him. Ranch with a bunch of guys on it ain't no place for a girl, especially like her. Whit said, "If you got ideas, you gotta come into town with us, guys tomorrow night." "Why? What's doing?" Just the usual thing, we go into old Susie's place, hell of a nice place. Old Susie's a laugh, always cracking joke. Like she says, when we come up the front porch last Saturday night. Susie opens the door and then she yells over her shoulder. "Get your coat, son, girls. Here comes a sheriff." She never talks dirty, neither. Got five girls in there. "What's it set you back?" George asked. Two and a half, you can get a shot for two hits. Susie got nice chairs to set in too. If a guy don't want a flop, why he can just set in the chairs and have a couple or three shots and pass the time of day, and Susie don't give a damn. She ain't rushing guys through when kicking them out if they don't want a flop. "You might go in and look over the joint," said George. "Sure, come along. It's a hell of a lot of fun. Her cracking jokes all the time." Like she says, one time, she says, "I have new people that if they got a rag rug on the floor and a cute pie doll lamp on the phone graph, they think they're running a partner house." And that's Claire's house, she's talking about. And Susie says, "I know what you boys want." She says, "My girls is clean." She says, "And there ain't no water in my whiskey," she says. "If any of you guys want to look at a cute pie doll lamp, take your own chance getting burned while you know where to go." And she says, "There's guys around here walking bowl-legged because they like to look at a cute pie doll lamp." And George asked, "Claire runs the other house, huh?" "Yeah," said Whit. "We don't never go there. Claire gets three bucks a crack and 35 cents a shot, and she don't crack no jokes." But Susie's place is clean and she got nice chairs. "Don't let no googues in either." "Me and Lenny's rolling up a stake," said George. "I might go in and sit and have a shot, but I ain't puffing out no two and a half." "Well, a guy got to have some fun sometime," said Whit. The door opened and Lenny and Carlson came in together. Lenny crept to his bunk and sat down, trying not to attract attention. Carlson reached under his bunk and brought out his bag. He didn't look at Old Candy who still faced the wall. Carlson found a little cleaning rod in the bag in a can of oil. He laid them on his bed and then brought out the pistol. Took out the magazine and snapped the loaded shell from the chamber. Then he fell to cleaning the barrel with the little rod. When the ejector snapped, Candy turned over and looked for a moment at the gun before he turned back to the wall again. Carlson said casually, "Curly been in yet?" "No," said Whit. "What's eating on Curly?" Carlson squinted down the barrel of his gun. Looking for his old lady. I've seen him going round and round outside. Whit said sarcastically. He spans half of his time looking for her and the rest of the time she's looking for him. Curly burst into the room excitedly. "Any of you guys seen my wife?" he demanded. "She ain't been in here," said Whit. Curly looked threatening about the room with a hail slim. "Want out in the barn?" said George. He was going to put some tar on a split hoof. Curly's shoulders dropped and squared. How long ago would he go? Hmm, five, ten minutes. Curly jumped out the door and banged it after him. Whit stood up. "I guess maybe I'd like to see this," he said. Curly's just spoiling or he wouldn't start for slim. And Curly's handy. God damn handy. Got it in the finals for the Golden Gloves. He got newspaper clippings about it. He considered. "But just the same, he better leave slim alone. Nobody don't know what slim can do." "Think slim's with his wife, don't he?" said George. "Looks like it," Whit said. "Course slim ain't. At least I don't think slim is. But I like to see the fuss if it comes off. Come on, let's go." George said, "I'm staying right here. I don't want to get mixed up in nothing. Lenny and me got to make a stake." Carlson finished cleaning the gun and put it in the bag and pushed the bag under his bunk. "I guess I'll go out and look her over," he said. Old candy lace still, and Lenny from his bunk watched George cautiously. When Whit and Carlson were gone and the door closed after them, George turned to Lenny. "What you got on your mat?" "I ain't done nothing, George. Slim says I better not pet them pup so much for a while. Slim says it ain't good for them. So I come right in. I've been good, George." "Good to told you that," said George. "Well, I wasn't hurting them, none. I just had mine in my lap, petting it." George asked, "Did you see slim out in the barn?" "Sure did. He told me I better not pet that pup no more." "Did you see that girl?" "You mean curly's girl?" "Yeah. Did she come in the barn?" "No. Anyways, I've never seen her." "You never seen Slim talking to her?" "Uh-uh. She ain't being in the barn." "Okay," said George. "I guess them guys ain't going to see no fight. If there's any fight in Lenny, you keep out of it." "I don't want no fights," said Lenny. He got up from his bunk and sat down at the table across from George. Almost automatically, George shuffled the cards and laid out his solitaire hand. He used a deliberate, thoughtful slowness. Lenny reached for a face card and studied it. Then turned it upside down and studied it. "Both ends the same," he said. "George, why is it both ends the same?" "I don't know," said George. "That's just the way they make them." "What was Slim doing in the barn when you seen him?" "Slim?" "Sure, you seen him in the barn and he told you not to pet the pup so much." "He had a can and a tar and a paintbrush. I don't know what for." "You sure that girl didn't come in like she came in here today?" "No, she never come." "You give me a good horror house every time," he said. "I got can go in and get drunk and get everything out of his system all at once. No messes." And he knows how much it's going to set him back. "These here jailbates is just set on the trigger." Lenny followed his words admiringly and moved his lips a little to keep up. George continued. "You remember Andy Cushman Lenny went to grammar school?" "The one that his old lady used to make hotcakes for the kids?" Lenny asked. "Yeah, that's the one. You can remember anything if there's anything to eat in it." George looked carefully at the solitary hand. He put a nace up on his scoring rack and piled a two, three, and four of diamonds on it. "Andies and San Quentin right now on account of a tar," said George. Lenny drummed up on the table with his fingers. "George?" "Huh." "George, how long is it going to be till we get that little place and live on the land with the rabbits?" "I don't know," said George. "We've got to get a big stake together." "I know a little place we can get cheap, but they ain't giving it away." Old candy turned slowly over. His eyes were open wide. He watched George carefully. Lenny said. "Tell about that place, George." "I just told you last night." "Go on, tell it again, George." "Well, it's ten acres," said George. "Got a little windmill. Got a little shack on it and a chicken run. Got a kitchen, an orchard, cherries, apples, peaches, apricots, nuts. Got a few berries." There's a place for alfalfa and plenty water to float it. There's a pigpen and rabbits, George. "No place for rabbits now, but I could easy build a few huts and you could feed alfalfa up to the rabbits." "Damn right, I could," said Lenny. "You goddamn right, I could." George's hands stopped working with the cards. His voice was growing warmer. And we could have a few pigs. I could build a smokehouse like the one Grandpa had. And when we kill a pig, we can smoke the bacon in the hams and make sausage and all like that. And when the salmon run up the river, we could catch a hundred of them and salt them down or smoke them. We could have them for breakfast. They ate nothing so nice as smoked salmon. When the fruit come in, we could can it and tomato's. They're easy to can. Every Sunday, we can kill a chicken or a rabbit. Maybe we'd have a cow or a goat. And the cream is so goddamn thick, you got to cut it with a knife and take it out with a spoon. Lenny watched him with widows and old candy watched him too. Lenny said softly, "We could live off of the land." "Sure," said George. All kinds of vegetables in the garden. And if we want a little whiskey, we could sell a few eggs or something or some milk. We'd just live there. We'd belong there. It wouldn't be no more running around the country or getting fed by a jack cook. No sir. We'd have our own place where we belonged and not sleep in no one's house. Tell about the house, George. Lenny bagged. Sure. We'd have a little house and a room to ourself. We'd have a stove and in the winter, we'd keep fire going in. It ain't enough land, so we'd have to work too hard. Maybe six, seven hours a day. We wouldn't have to buck no barley, eleven hours a day. And when we put in a crop, why? We'd be there to take the crop up. We'd know what come of our planting. And rabbits, Lenny said eagerly. And I'd take care of him. Tell how I'd do that, George. Sure. You'd go out in the alfalfa patch and you'd have a sack. You'd fill up the sack and bring it in and put in the rabbit's cages. They nibble and they nibble. Said Lenny. The way they do, I see them. Ever six weeks or so, George continued. Them does withdraw litter, so we'd have plenty of rabbits to eat and sell. And we'd keep a few pigeons to go flying around the windmill like they'd done when I was a kid. He looked rapidly at the wall over Lenny's head. And it'd be our own, nobody could can us. If we don't like a guy we can say, "Get the hell out." And by God he's got to do it. And if a friend come along, we'd have an extra bunk. We'd say, "Why don't you spend the night?" And by God he would. We'd have a setter dog, a couple strap cats. But you got to watch out, then cats don't get the little rabbits. Lenny breathes hard. You just let him try to get the rabbits. I'll break their goddamn necks. I'll smash him with a stick. He subsided, grumbling to himself, threatening the future cats, which might dare to disturb the future rabbits. George sat entranced with his own picture. When Candy spoke, they both jumped as though they had been caught doing something reprehensible. Candy said, "You know where there's a place like that?" George was on guard immediately. "Spose I do," he said. "Well, set to you." "You don't need to tell me where it's at. It might be any place." "Sure," said George. That's right. You couldn't find it in a hundred years. Candy went on excitedly. Watched they want for a place like that. George watched him suspiciously. "Well, I could get it for 600 bucks. The old people that owns it is a flat bust and the old lady needs an operation." "Say, what's it to you? You got nothing to do with us." Candy said, "I ain't much good with only one hand. I lost my hand right here on this ranch. That's why they give me a job swamp." And they give me $250, 'cause I lost my hand. And I got 50 more saved up right in the bank right now. That's 300. And I got 50 more coming at the end of the month. Tell you what. He leaned forward eagerly. "Spose I went in with you guys. That's 350 bucks I'd put in. I ain't much good. But I could cook and tend the chickens and hold the garden some. How'd that be?" George half closed his eyes. "I gotta think about that. We was always gonna do it by ourselves." Candy interrupted him. "I'd make a will and leave my share to you guys in case I kick off. 'Cause I ain't got no relatives or nothing. You guys got any money? Maybe we could do it right now." George spat on the floor, disgustingly. "We got 10 bucks between us." Then he said thoughtfully, "Look, if me and Lenny work a month and don't spend nothing, we'll have a hundred bucks." That'd be 450. I bet we could swing her for that. Then you and Lenny could get her started and I'd get a job and make up the rest. And you could sell eggs and stuff like that. They fell into a silence. They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they had never really believed in was coming true. George said reverently, "Jesus Christ, I bet we could swing her." His eyes were full of wonder. "I bet we could swing her." He repeated softly. Candy sat on the edge of his bunk. He scratched the stump of his wrist nervously. "I got hurt four years ago," he said. "They'll can be pretty soon. Just as soon as I can't swamp out no bunk houses, they'll put me on the county. Maybe if I give you guys my money, you'll let me ho in the garden even after I ain't no good at it. And I'll wash dishes and little chicken stuff like that. But I'll be on our own place, and I'll be let to work on our own place." He said miserably. "You seen what they'd done to my dog tonight?" He says he wasn't no good to himself nor nobody else. "When they can, me here, I wished somebody'd shoot me. But they won't do nothing like that. I won't have no place to go and I can't get no more jobs. I'll have $30 more coming." I'll have $30 more coming till the time you guys is ready to quit. "George stood up. "We'll do her," he said. "We'll fix up that little old place and we'll go live there." He sat down again. They all sat still, all bemused by the beauty of the thing. Each mind was popped into the future when this lovely thing should come about. "George said wonderingly. Suppose they was a carnival or a circus come to town or a ballgame or any damp thing." Old candy nodded in appreciation of the idea. "We'd just go to her," George said. "We wouldn't ask nobody if we could. Just say we'll go to her. And we would. Just milk the cow and sling some grain to the chickens and go to her." And put some grass to the rabbits. Lenny broke in. I would never forget to feed him. When we go and do it, George. In one month, right-squack in one month. Know what I'm going to do? Lie to them old people that owns the place and will take it. And candy will send $100 to binder. "Sure will," said candy. "They got a good stove there." "Sure, got a nice stove, burns coal or wood." "I'm going to take my pup," said Lenny. "I bet by Christ he likes it there. By Jesus." Voices were approaching from outside. George said quickly. "Don't tell nobody about it. Just three of us and nobody else. They liable to canna so we can't make no stake. Just go on like we was going to buck barley the rest of our lives. Then all of a sudden someday we'll go get our pay and scram out of here." Lenny and candy nodded and they were grinning with delight. "Don't tell nobody," Lenny said to himself. Candy said. "George?" "Huh?" "Ah, to have shot that dog myself, George. I should not to have let no stranger shoot my dog." The door opened. Slim came in, followed by Curly and Carlson and went. Slim's hands were black with tar and he was scouting. Curly hung close to his elbow. Curly said, "Well, I didn't mean nothing, Slim. I just asked you." Slim said, "Well, you been asking me too often. I'm getting goddamn sick of it. If you can't look after your own goddamn wife, what you expect me to do about it. You lay off of me." "I'm just trying to tell you I didn't mean nothing," said Curly. "I just thought you might have saw her." "Why didn't you tell her to stay the hell home where she belongs?" said Carlson. "You let her hang around bunk houses and pretty soon you're going to have something on your hands and won't be able to do nothing about it." Curly whirled around on Carlson. "You keep out of this, lest you want to step outside." Carlson laughed. "You goddamn punk," he said. "You tried to throw a scare into Slim and you couldn't make it stick." Slim threw a scare into you. "Your yellow is a frog, Billy. I don't care if you're the best welder in the country. You come for me and I'll kick your goddamn head off." Candy joined the attack with joy. "Glove full of Vaseline," he said disgustedly. Curly glared at him. His eyes slipped on past and lighted on Lenny, and Lenny was still smiling with delight at the memory of the ranch. Curly stepped over to Lenny like a terrier, with the hell you laughing at. Lenny looked blankly at him, huh? Then Curly's rage exploded. "Come on, you big bastard. Get up on your feet. No big son of a bitch is going to laugh at me. I'll show you who his yellow." Lenny looked helplessly at George, and then he got up and tried to retreat. Curly was balanced and poised. He slashed at Lenny with his left, and then smashed down his nose with a right. Lenny gave a cry of terror, blood welled from his nose. "George!" he cried. "Make him leave me alone, George!" He backed until he was against the wall and Curly followed, slugging him in the face. Lenny's hands remained at a side. He was too frightened to defend himself. George was on his feet yelling. "Get him, Lenny. Don't let him do it!" Lenny covered his face with his huge paws and bleeding with terror. He cried, "Make him stop, George!" Then Curly attacked his stomach and cut off his wind. Slim jumped up. "The dirty little rat!" he cried. "I'll get him myself." George put out his hands and grabbed Slim. "Wait a minute!" he shouted. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Get him, Lenny!" Lenny took his hands away from his face to look about for George, and Curly slashed at his eyes. The big face was covered with blood. George yelled again. "I said, Get him!" Curly's fist was swinging when Lenny reached for it. The next minute, Curly was flopping like a fish on a line, and his clothes fist was lost in Lenny's big hand. George ran down the room, let go of him Lenny, let go. But Lenny watched in terror, the flopping little man whom he held. Blood ran down Lenny's face, one of his eyes was cut and closed. George slapped him in the face again and again, and still Lenny held on to the closed fist. Curly was white and shrunken by now, and his struggling had become weak. He stood crying, his fist lost in Lenny's paw. George shouted over and over, let go his hand Lenny, let go, let go. Slim, come help me while the guy got any hand left. Suddenly Lenny let go of his hold. He crouched, cowering against the wall. "You told me to George," he said miserably. Curly sat down on the floor, looking in wonder at his crushed hand. Slim and Carlson bent over him. Then Slim straightened up and regarded Lenny with horror. "We gotta get him to a doctor," he said. "Looks to me like every bone in his hand is bust. I didn't wanna," cried Lenny, "I didn't wanna hurt him." Slim said, "Carlson, you get the candy wagon hitched up. We'll take him into sold ad and get him fixed up." Carlson hurried out. Slim turned to the whimpering Lenny. "It ain't your fault," he said. This puncture had it come into him, but Jesus, he ain't hardly had no hand left. Slim hurried out and in a moment returned with a tin cup of water. He held it to Curly's lips. George said, "Slim, will we get canned now? We need the steak. Will Curly's old man can us now?" Slim smiled Riley. He knelt down beside Curly. "You got your senses in hand enough to listen?" he asked. Curly nodded. "Well then, listen," Slim went on. "I think you got your hand caught in a machine. If you don't tell nobody what happened, we ain't going to. But you just try and get this guy canned and we'll tell everybody, and then you'll get the laugh." "I won't tell," said Curly. He avoided looking at Lenny. Buggy wheels sounded outside. Slim helped Curly up. "Come on now, Carlson's gonna take you to the doctor." He helped Curly out the door. The sound of wheels drew away. In a moment, Slim came back into the bunkhouse. He looked at Lenny, still crouched carefully against the wall. "Let's see your hands," he asked. Lenny stuck out his hands. "Crystal money. I hate to have you mad at me," Slim said. "George broke in. Lenny was just scared," he explained. "He didn't know what to do. I told you nobody ever ought to fight him." No, I guess it was Kandy, I told. Kandy nodded solemnly. "That's just what you done," he said. "Right this morning when Curly first lit into your friend," he said. "He better not fool with Lenny if he knows what's good for him. That's just what you says to me." "George turned to Lenny. It ain't your fault," he said. "You don't need to be scared no more. You just done what I told you to. Maybe you better go in the washroom and clean up your face. You'll look like hell." Lenny smiled with his bruised mouth. "I didn't want no trouble," he said. He walked toward the door, but just before he came to it, he turned back. "George, what you want?" "I can still tend the rabbits, right, George?" "Sure. You ain't done nothing wrong. We'll get the hell out and wash your face." Thank you for indulging in a story with me today. If you enjoyed it, please consider following and rating the podcast. It helps other people find and enjoy the show too. If you want to get in touch with me, there's an email in the show notes, and I'd love to hear from you. Our show music was composed by my dear friend, Rachel Robinson, played by the wonderful Andrea Skateman, an audio engineered by the talented Devon Lamont from the band Crashcake. Our episode album art was drawn by the exquisite George McKinnis. We'll be back next week with the next piece of this wonderful story. Till next time, friends.