“Then you an’ Lennie could go get her started an’ I’d get a job an’ make up the res’, an’ you could sell eggs an’ 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 year ago,” he said. “They’ll can me purty soon. Jus’ 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 hoe in the garden even after I ain’t no good at it.”
“An’ I’ll wash dishes an’ little chicken stuff like that. But I’ll be on our own place, an’ I’ll be let to work on our own place.”
He said miserably, “You seen what they done to my dog tonight? They says he wasn’t no good to himself nor nobody else.”
“When they can me here I wisht somebody’d shoot me. But they won’t do nothing like that.”
“I won’t have no place to go, an’ I can’t get no more jobs. I’ll have thirty dollars more comin’, time you guys is ready to quit.”
George stood up. “We’ll do her,” he said. “We’ll fix up that little old place an’ we’ll go live there.”
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