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Joad
turned
the
pieces
of
meat
over
on
the
wire
.
The
juice
was
dripping
now
,
and
every
drop
,
as
it
fell
in
the
fire
,
shot
up
a
spurt
of
flame
.
The
smooth
surface
of
the
meat
was
crinkling
up
and
turning
a
faint
brown
.
"
Smell
her
,
"
said
Joad
.
"
Jesus
,
look
down
an
’
just
smell
her
!
"
Muley
went
on
,
"
Like
a
damn
ol
’
graveyard
ghos
’
.
I
been
goin
’
aroun
’
the
places
where
stuff
happened
.
Like
there
’
s
a
place
over
by
our
forty
;
in
a
gully
they
’
s
a
bush
.
Fust
time
I
ever
laid
with
a
girl
was
there
.
Me
fourteen
an
’
stampin
’
an
’
jerkin
’
an
’
snortin
’
like
a
buck
deer
,
randy
as
a
billygoat
.
So
I
went
there
an
’
I
laid
down
on
the
groun
’
,
an
’
I
seen
it
all
happen
again
.
An
’
there
’
s
the
place
down
by
the
barn
where
Pa
got
gored
to
death
by
a
bull
.
An
’
his
blood
is
right
in
that
groun
’
,
right
now
.
Mus
’
be
.
Nobody
never
washed
it
out
.
An
’
I
put
my
han
’
on
that
groun
’
where
my
own
pa
’
s
blood
is
part
of
it
.
"
He
paused
uneasily
.
"
You
fellas
think
I
’
m
touched
?
"
Joad
turned
the
meat
,
and
his
eyes
were
inward
.
Casy
,
feet
drawn
up
,
stared
into
the
fire
.
Fifteen
feet
back
from
the
men
the
fed
cat
was
sitting
,
the
long
gray
tail
wrapped
neatly
around
the
front
feet
.
A
big
owl
shrieked
as
it
went
overhead
,
and
the
firelight
showed
its
white
underside
and
the
spread
of
its
wings
.
"
No
,
"
said
Casy
.
"
You
’
re
lonely
—
but
you
ain
’
t
touched
.
"
Muley
’
s
tight
little
face
was
rigid
.
"
I
put
my
han
’
right
on
the
groun
’
where
that
blood
is
still
.
An
’
I
seen
my
pa
with
a
hole
through
his
ches
’
,
an
’
I
felt
him
shiver
up
against
me
like
he
done
,
an
’
I
seen
him
kind
of
settle
back
an
’
reach
with
his
han
’
s
an
’
his
feet
.
An
’
I
seen
his
eyes
all
milky
with
hurt
,
an
’
then
he
was
still
an
’
his
eyes
so
clear
—
lookin
’
up
.
An
’
me
a
little
kid
settin
’
there
,
not
cryin
’
nor
nothin
’
,
jus
’
settin
’
there
.
"
He
shook
his
head
sharply
.
Joad
turned
the
meat
over
and
over
.
"
An
’
I
went
in
the
room
where
Joe
was
born
.
Bed
wasn
’
t
there
,
but
it
was
the
room
.
An
’
all
them
things
is
true
,
an
’
they
’
re
right
in
the
place
they
happened
.
Joe
came
to
life
right
there
.
He
give
a
big
ol
’
gasp
an
’
then
he
let
out
a
squawk
you
could
hear
a
mile
,
an
’
his
granma
standin
’
there
says
,
’
That
’
s
a
daisy
,
that
’
s
a
daisy
,
’
over
an
’
over
.
An
’
her
so
proud
she
bust
three
cups
that
night
.
"
Joad
cleared
his
throat
.
"
Think
we
better
eat
her
now
.
"
"
Let
her
get
good
an
’
done
,
good
an
’
brown
,
awmost
black
,
"
said
Muley
irritably
.
"
I
wanta
talk
.
I
ain
’
t
talked
to
nobody
.
If
I
’
m
touched
,
I
’
m
touched
,
an
’
that
’
s
the
end
of
it
.
Like
a
ol
’
graveyard
ghos
’
goin
’
to
neighbors
’
houses
in
the
night
.
Peters
’
,
Jacobs
’
,
Rance
’
s
,
Joad
’
s
;
an
’
the
houses
all
dark
,
standin
’
like
miser
’
ble
ratty
boxes
,
but
they
was
good
parties
an
’
dancin
’
.
An
’
there
was
meetin
’
s
and
shoutin
’
glory
.
They
was
weddin
’
s
,
all
in
them
houses
.
An
’
then
I
’
d
want
to
go
in
town
an
’
kill
folks
.
’
Cause
what
’
d
they
take
when
they
tractored
the
folks
off
the
lan
’
?
What
’
d
they
get
so
their
’
margin
a
profit
’
was
safe
?
They
got
Pa
dyin
’
on
the
groun
’
,
an
’
Joe
yellin
’
his
first
breath
,
an
’
me
jerkin
’
like
a
billy
goat
under
a
bush
in
the
night
.
What
’
d
they
get
?
God
knows
the
lan
’
ain
’
t
no
good
.
Nobody
been
able
to
make
a
crop
for
years
.
But
them
sons
-
a
-
bitches
at
their
desks
,
they
jus
’
chopped
folks
in
two
for
their
margin
a
profit
.
They
jus
’
cut
’
em
in
two
.
Place
where
folks
live
is
them
folks
.
They
ain
’
t
whole
,
out
lonely
on
the
road
in
a
piled
-
up
car
.
They
ain
’
t
alive
no
more
.
Them
sons
-
a
-
bitches
killed
’
em
.
"
And
he
was
silent
,
his
thin
lips
still
moving
,
his
chest
still
panting
.
He
sat
and
looked
down
at
his
hands
in
the
firelight
.
"
I
—
I
ain
’
t
talked
to
nobody
for
a
long
time
,
"
he
apologized
softly
.
"
I
been
sneakin
’
aroun
’
like
a
ol
’
graveyard
ghos
’
.
"
Casy
pushed
the
long
boards
into
the
fire
and
the
flames
licked
up
around
them
and
leaped
up
toward
the
meat
again
.
The
house
cracked
loudly
as
the
cooler
night
air
contracted
the
wood
.
Casy
said
quietly
,
"
I
gotta
see
them
folks
that
’
s
gone
out
on
the
road
.
I
got
a
feelin
’
I
got
to
see
them
.
They
gonna
need
help
no
preachin
’
can
give
’
em
.
Hope
of
heaven
when
their
lives
ain
’
t
lived
?
Holy
Sperit
when
their
own
sperit
is
downcast
an
’
sad
?
They
gonna
need
help
.
They
got
to
live
before
they
can
afford
to
die
.
"
