We ain’t got it so bad, now do we? Part 11.

Part 11.

After hearing about some jobs in Shafter, the boys headed over there. They found a trailer park where they could set up their tent out back of the few rundown trailers lined up in ragged rows. Then after going into town for some grub, they started a fire and settled in for the night. By the time they got back to their camp, there was no one milling around, so they figured they’d look for the repair place tomorrow and see what they could find out.

As was their custom, they showed up at the farm machinery repair facility in time to follow the workers walking through the just opened gates. What they saw was 4 very large metal buildings with farm equipment and machinery of every description, in every conceivable stage of repair. Some in pieces, some out front looking to be completed.

After looking around, they headed straight over to what looked to be the office shack.

Entering, they saw a man behind the counter with his back to them, pouring himself a cup of coffee. When he turned around he said. “Howdy boys. How can I help you?”

“We was wondering if you might have any jobs to be had?” Guy asked.

After a short glance at Guy and Lester, he asked. “Do either of you have any special skills other than a laborer or picking crops?”
”Why yes we do sir.” Lester answered. “Guy here is right handy at handling machinery and I knows plenty about repairing engines.”

His eyes seemed to light up at that, and then he asked. “How about welding?”

“On the farm, there’s always a need for some welding.” Guy answered. “I recon I could handle that fine sir.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. You fellow’s fill out these.” He said with a small smile, as he reached under the cabinet and slid some papers toward them. “ And we’ll see what we might find for you to do around here.”

That day started a yearlong employment at the facility where Guy and Lester with their work ethic and ability to catch on fast aptitude again worked their way up the ladder in no time.

Having some rudimentary knowledge of welding served Guy well, for in just a few months, he was the lead welder. Lester gained the head mechanic position in even less time, so they both again were putting together a right nice little nest egg at the Shafter Bank. Being thrifty but needing a place to live, they ended up renting one of the trailers with two bedrooms at the park, so settled in nicely in their new jobs.

The pickup that had served them so well coming out west, was breathing its last ragged breath and drinking oil like a drunken sailor. So before it gave up the ghost, Lester found another newer one that needed a little work from one of his co-workers, so they were back in business with a dependable pickup again.

Speaking of Lester, one hot summer day, when guy was running a red-hot bead of welding rod, repairing a broken front loader blade, he thought he kept hearing something out of the ordinary through the sizzling noise of the contact arc and the welding machines loud hum. Being right in the middle of a long run, he just gave his head a slight shake and it seemed to go away, so he continued on.

The now growing noise grabbed his attention again, this time sounding a bit like men’s raised shouts, so he stopped welding, flipped his helmet up, then stood up to look around. With the welder off, it became clear. It was the sound of men shouting. Lots of men. From inside the building, he couldn’t see anything, so he followed the sound outside and there is was.

It was a circle of men all facing inward, yelling encouragements and cuss words toward what was beginning to resolve into two men fist fighting in the center.

It had been ages since Guy had seen a good old fist fight, so he dropped his equipment, gloves and helmet on the ground and hurried over to see what was going on.

Truth be told, the last fistfight he’d been involved in was between him and one brother or another, which on the old farm was a somewhat regular thing.

As soon as he pushed between two of the now screaming spectators, it hit him. It was Lester and another fella punching it out. By the blood trails, it was a pretty even fight, with neither backing down. Then the other fella apparently lost his concentration, for Lester gave him a straight-armed slam right on the jaw and down he went. Then Lester jumped on top and started plummeting him over and over until the guy screamed out “I give damnit!”

As was the custom then, the second one of the combatants said “Uncle”.  It was over. Lester stood up with blood mixed snot slinging in every direction, with hands on hips, looking like a knight of old having just slain a tiger in the arena.

Then the others came over with glad handling and slaps on his back in congratulations for a fight well done. Then they all simply started back toward wherever they were working before it all started.

As Guy and Lester headed back toward their own metal buildings, Guy asked. “What the hell was that all about?”

“He called me White Trash! No one calls me that Guy! Ever again!”

To be continued: