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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Стр. 292/563
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The
contractor
said
,
«
I
told
you
I
need
men
.
If
you
don
’
t
want
to
work
—
well
,
that
’
s
your
business
.
»
The
deputy
smiled
.
«
If
they
don
’
t
want
to
work
,
they
ain
’
t
a
place
for
’
em
in
this
county
.
We
’
ll
float
’
em
quick
.
»
Floyd
stood
stiffly
beside
the
deputy
,
and
Floyd
’
s
thumbs
were
hooked
over
his
belt
.
Tom
stole
a
look
at
him
,
and
then
stared
at
the
ground
.
«
That
’
s
all
,
"
the
contractor
said
.
«
There
’
s
men
needed
in
Tulare
County
;
plenty
of
work
.
»
Tom
looked
slowly
up
at
Floyd
’
s
hands
,
and
he
saw
the
strings
at
the
wrists
standing
out
under
the
skin
.
Tom
’
s
own
hands
came
up
,
and
his
thumbs
hooked
over
his
belt
.
«
Yeah
,
that
’
s
all
.
I
don
’
t
want
one
of
you
here
by
tomorra
morning
.
»
The
contractor
stepped
into
the
Chevrolet
.
«
Now
,
you
,
"
the
deputy
said
to
Floyd
,
«
you
get
in
that
car
.
»
He
reached
a
large
hand
up
and
took
hold
of
Floyd
’
s
left
arm
.
Floyd
spun
and
swung
with
one
movement
.
His
fist
splashed
into
the
large
face
,
and
in
the
same
motion
he
was
away
,
dodging
down
the
line
of
tents
.
The
deputy
staggered
and
Tom
put
out
his
foot
for
him
to
trip
over
.
The
deputy
fell
heavily
and
rolled
,
reaching
for
his
gun
.
Floyd
dodged
in
and
out
of
sight
down
the
line
.
The
deputy
fired
from
the
ground
.
A
woman
in
front
of
a
tent
screamed
and
then
looked
at
a
hand
which
had
no
knuckles
.
The
fingers
hung
on
strings
against
her
palm
,
and
the
torn
flesh
was
white
and
bloodless
.
Far
down
the
line
Floyd
came
in
sight
,
sprinting
for
the
willows
.
The
deputy
,
sitting
on
the
ground
,
raised
his
gun
again
and
then
,
suddenly
,
from
the
group
of
men
,
the
Reverend
Casy
stepped
.
He
kicked
the
deputy
in
the
neck
and
then
stood
back
as
the
heavy
man
crumpled
into
unconsciousness
.
The
motor
of
the
Chevrolet
roared
and
it
streaked
away
,
churning
the
dust
.
It
mounted
to
the
highway
and
shot
away
.
In
front
of
her
tent
,
the
woman
still
looked
at
her
shattered
hand
.
Little
droplets
of
blood
began
to
ooze
from
the
wound
.
And
a
chuckling
hysteria
began
in
her
throat
,
a
whining
laugh
that
grew
louder
and
higher
with
each
breath
.
The
deputy
lay
on
his
side
,
his
mouth
open
against
the
dust
.
Tom
picked
up
his
automatic
,
pulled
out
the
magazine
and
threw
it
into
the
brush
,
and
he
ejected
the
live
shell
from
the
chamber
.
«
Fella
like
that
ain
’
t
got
no
right
to
a
gun
,
"
he
said
;
and
he
dropped
the
automatic
to
the
ground
.
