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:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we? Part 10.

Part 10.

After a fitful night’s sleep because of their excitement of moving on, Guy and Lester cranked up the old faithful pickup with it’s usual bellyaching, smoke puffing reluctance and crawled out of the river bottom they’d called home most of the summer, toward what they knew not but with a smile on their faces and a happy little tune of anticipation in their souls.

It turned out to be a little hard to leave a very disappointed Orange Farm owner with their decision to pass on his offer of a permanent job. He upped the pay he was offering enough to give them serious pause but it was too late. They’d already caught the “What’s over that next rise.” Bug and there was no looking back now.

Within just a couple of hours, they reached the beginnings of Bakersfield and what a place it seemed to the boys. When they’d first reached California, it was on the Southern outskirts of Las Angeles, so they never saw the whole immense layout of the big city life there. To them Bakersfield seemed a madhouse of activity.

During their trip across America on Highway 99, all they’d seen were little one-horse towns. Nothing near what they were now seeing. The closer to downtown they drove, the more the buildings grew, until they couldn’t see the tops from the side windows of the truck without sticking their heads out. And oh so many people in one place. All walking with such purpose, such determination. Having been born and raised as country bumpkins in small town America, they couldn’t for the life of themselves understand how so many folks could live so close together.

Soon after driving like the wide-eyed oakies they were clear through downtown Bakersfield, things started thankfully thinning out, with far less buildings and people along the way.

That’s when they noticed something going on in a field along side the road up ahead. As they got closer, they could see it was a fairly large group of folks with the same ragtag look as themselves playing a game of baseball in an open field there.

“Pull over.” Lester said as he gazed intently at now raucous crowd looking to be having a hell of a good time. “Lets stop and see what we can learn about the job situation here in Bakersfield.”

“You got it.” Guy said as he pulled over and parked next to the line of clunkers there.

 Just as they were getting out of the truck, they could tell someone apparently had just made a home run with bases loaded from the loud screams and yelling going on. With all the hats flying in the air, hugs and screaming, it must have been not only one hell of a welcome home run but also the end of the game because most folks were starting back toward their cars. There was a dozen or so people still holding back, so Guy and Lester headed over toward them. As they got close a couple of guys from the group looked over. “Howdy boys. Did you see that home run?”

“No sir, we just arrived as it happened but we sure heard it.” Guy laughed

“Well, John boy here.” The man said, slapping the young man next to him on the back, almost bowling him over. “Knocked it clear into the next county and won the damn game.”

That set off another round of yelling, back slapping, whistles, along with a few little dirt kicking dances, which started everyone laughing.

After that outburst slowed down, one of the group asked. “So boys. Where you all from?”

“We just arrived from the Orange fields down south. We heard there was work to be had here in Bakersfield.”

That got a few odd looks from some of the boys there so Lester asked. “Is there a problem finding work here?”

“Truth be told boys.” The man standing close said. “We’re all here for the same reason but so is a whole lot of others. We’re told we’re a might late, that most of the jobs have already been taken.”

“Really?” Guy asked with concern on his face.

“Lesin you have some kind of special skills other than pickin veggies or fruit.” Another man added.

“Well, we’re both a might handy at mechanicin and driving equipment.” Lester said.

“Well good luck to ya boys.” Another man stepped up to shake their hands. “You’re gonna need it.”

After most everyone slowly walked away, a young man who’d been standing back a little stepped up. “I heard you say you had some experience with equipment and stuff.”

“Yup. Lester here is a right fine mechanic.” Guy said. “And I’ve done my share of driving tractors and trucks.”

After another moment of kicking a dirt clod in silence the young man said. “I heard from some others there’s some sort of farm machinery repair facility over in Shafter that’s always looking for expericance people. I ain’t got none of that but you might look over there.”

“Shafter?” Lester said with a question in his voice. “Where’s that?”

“It’s about 20 miles Northwest of here.” The young man answered. “Just take 99 North, then West on Lerdo Highway for a few miles.”
”Thank ye young man. We do appreciate the help.”

After they got back in the car, Guy said. “Well, Shafter it is Lester. That sounds as good a place as any for us right about now. Maybe we can find ourselves a trailer park we can set up camp in somewhere’s around there and look around this here farm machinery repair place he told us about.”

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we? Part 9.

Part 9.

We left the boys setting around the evening meal campfire wondering if they should take the year around job offer at the Orange farm or move on in search of better opportunities up north. They’d heard hints of more employment up there from some of the other folks heading that way.

They awoke next morning groggy and tired. The sun’s rays had not quite touched the ground as they busied themselves with the fire.

“Damn!” Guy mumbled. “I feel like I didn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything.”

“Yup. Me too.” Lester said as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to clear them of the sticky night goo.

After getting the fire up and running and snuggling up close against the morning chill, Guy put the coffee pot on a flat rock next to the coals beginning to form to heat, while swatting the smoke away from his face.

“I went back and forth a dozen times last night about what we should do.” Lester started. “And never got anywheres close to deciding.”
”I know.” Guy said. “What the Orange farmer offered us is tempting for sure but is this where we want to settle down, or do we start off up north to see what else there is to this here California?”

The owner had given them a couple of days to think his offer over, so for the first time in weeks, they had a day to themselves with nothing pressing to do.

So after a hardy breakfast of eggs, fish, a flower pancake and what little oranges there were left, they decided to wander the encampment and see who hadn’t left to search out another job yet. In that way, they were able to chat with a bunch of like-minded folks who had found themselves in the same dire circumstances they were in. Same as Guy and Lester though, most of these folks had found work in the orange groves, so had a bit of coin for food and essentials, so were in a pretty good mood. It was at one of the camps bustling with the activity of packing everything up to move on that they heard the most enticing news. Seems these folks had heard of a town up north apiece called Bakersfield that had jobs aplenty. So they were hustling to get there fore everyone else, to get the best jobs available.

It was on the way back to their own camp, that Lester of a sudden slapped his knee and in a sudden burst of enthusiasm said. “Dag nabbit Guy. We gotta move on. I’m not ready to settle down yet. There’s a whole big old world out there and I wanna see some of it afor I gets to be an old man.”

“Whoa there little man.” Guy laughed.” You gotta bit of time afor your hair changes color.”

“I know. I know.” Lester said. “But I gotta itch on my backside needin tending and staying in the first place we found in this here California ain’t gonna scratch it.”

“Ok brother dear. So just where do you have in mind to find this scratching post you’re needin then?”

“I don’t know but lets just hitch up the old truck and head on north where folks are a saying things get better. Lets just head up there and see what we might find.”

By the time they made their way back to camp, it was decided. They would get all their stuff rounded up and loaded onto the truck, get good nights sleep, and then go tell the Orange farm owner their decision and hit the road in the morning.

As they found out, getting a good nights sleep was not in their fate. Having decided to move on added an excitement they hadn’t felt since when very young their Pop had taught them to ride Betsy, the old sway back mare, the family kept around for hauling stuff when the clunker tractor broke down.
Guy would forever remember old Betsy. He’d taught Betsy to rear up on her hind legs, which was fun until the day Guy sled off Betsy’s rear end and landed under the horses stomping feet. It took quite a piece afor guys chin resembled normal skin again and was the last time Guy had Betsy do the back leg dance again.

They figured they did finally get some sleep around the time the tree owls hooting turned to snores. In their excitement they woke with just enough dawn light to hustle the fire back to life and start the water for the blessed coffee.

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we? Part 8.

Part 8.

The men had been invited to the main ranch house for a meeting with the owner of the farm last we heard of them. They had no idea what he might want of them but it was worth a look see….

When they arrived at the ranch and invited in to the kitchen area, the owner’s wife said “Have a seat boys.” after all the introductions were done.

She was a sturdy woman of medium height and weight with a brightly colored cotton dress looking to be one of the store bought kind. The other women in the kitchen wore clearly home made clothing of a much rougher material, so Guy and Lester assumed by her general appearance she was hired help for the kitchen. By the ladies gentle friendly banter as they busied themselves in the kitchen, they figured she’d been there quite a while.

The owner was dressed in coveralls, clearly store bought, with pencils and paper sticking out of each built in pocket. He had the dry leather complexion of a man who’d spent his hard working life under the suns rays. He was setting at the table smoking a pipe and had a relaxed confident manner, which put them at ease immediately.

After the helper set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Guy and Lester with their thanks, Joe the owner, after tapping his pipe into an ashtray, then setting it down, started. “Well boys. I’m glad you could stop by. I’m a man of few words, so I’ll get straight to the point. You boys have been doin a mighty fine job here this season. Several of my men pointed that fact out to me.”

Seeing he was waiting for some kind of response, Guy Answered. “Why thank you sir. We were raised to always do a good job, no matter what it was, so you’ll have to credit our dad for that.”

“The fact is you’ve done such a fine job that I’d like to offer to keep you on during the off season to help with everything needs doing around here.”

That took Guy and Lester back a bit to be sure. It had been so long since they’d had real work, much less an offer of a long-term job, they didn’t know what to say.

After looking at each other with raised eyebrows, it was Lester who found his voice first. “Well sir, that is mighty fine of ya. We really hadn’t given much thought yet what we was going to do next.”

Then after another quick sidelong glance at Guy, who gave him a tiny nod to continue, he said. “You’ll have to give us a little time to think on that sir. We got some talking to do first.”

“Well,” Joe started as he reached across the table and grabbed a piece of paper, then after writing something on it and sliding it across the table toward them, he said. “Here’s what I can pay you each a day ifen you decide to stay. Of course you’ll have Sunday’s off for church and such.”

After they both tried their best to look casual after looking at the number he wrote without gasping like schoolboys just having heard yes for a date from the school cheerleader, Guy folded it and stuck it in his shirt pocket as if it was nothing.

Just as they wondered if the meeting was over, the helper placed a plate in front of them with the most delicious smelling pastry still warm from the oven they’d ever seen with a tiny mischievous smile.

Truth was, Lester was so shocked with the numbers and the pastry, he was setting there with his mouth open, not moving, like someone who’d lost their mind, until Guy gave him a wake up kick under the table, which elicited a little unexpected yelp.

They knew Joe had noticed because he dove into his pastry past a barely hidden smile with gusto.

As starved for real food as they were, it didn’t take them long to finish off the pastry, so after the owner shook their hands on the front porch, they took off walking back to camp. Even though the offer was something they never figured they’d see, they had some serious thinking to do.

It was oddly quiet back at camp. Most folks had packed up and moved on to wherever they figured they might find work now that the orange season was rapping up. Luckily California, with it’s unbelievably long growing season, had plenty of other crops in season or coming soon, having the most productive farming areas in the country.

One of the notable things that Guy and Lester noticed was the utter cleanliness of the river encampment. Folks would think with such utter poverty and gloom, the people would leave all their garbage behind for someone else to deal with. The truth was, these were proud people, raised to always tend to their own business, so every scrap of garbage, every tiny piece of paper had been cleaned up. Hell the very ground looked like it had been swept with a broom in most places. Even the orange peels had been buried sight unseen somewhere. The campfires so long established were watered out and smoothed over with fresh earth with nary a warm spot to cause trouble.

They weren’t in much of a hurry now, so they headed down to the river to catch some dinner and do a little talking. They had some decisions to make. Do they stay with a sure thing or move on hoping for something better?

As they sat on the riverbank watching the light slowly dim, they were caught up in the almost majestic interplay of nature. As always just as dusk laid its soft blanket on earth, the dragonflies would hover just inches above the waters edge. Then the fish with a small leap find their own substance hovering there within easy reach.

Soon as nature’s blanket lay true, and full darkness arrived, Guy and Lester took their catch back to camp and hustled up a fire to cook their evening meal.

As they watched with growing hunger the fish drip their greasy essences onto the embers below with dancing sizzles of smoke, Lester was the first to start. “Well brother. Whater we gonna do?”

“Damn ifen I know.” Guy quietly answered. “We got plenty of coin to last us a while now for sure, ifen we decide to move on a bit but having a sure thing at the orange farm is temptin. That’s a fact.”
”There’s that fur sure but I’ve a hankerin to move on and see what better we might find. This here California seems to be abustin with opportunities.”

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

 

 

Part 7.

 

 

We last left Guy and Lester languishing in a thing they’d only dreamed of in the past months. A place to bath and wash their ratty clothes.

Having been so long since any kind of bath, they were some of the last people to wander back into the camp to start a fire and enjoy the fish they’d caught.

Just as they were starting back, they passed what looked like two families who might have been related in some way; by the way they looked alike.

“Boys!” one of them spoke up as they were passing by. “Come. Set for a piece. We’d like to talk to you for a bit ifen you don’t mind.”

After glancing toward each other with a questioning raised eyebrow and shrugging their shoulders, Guy and Lester stepped over to stand by the groups.

“How can we be of help?” Lester asked after a moment of silence had passed.

“To tell you the truth boys, we heard some others talking about you helping them with a problem they had with their car and said you were right good at it. Ya see, one of our trucks just barely made it here a couple days ago. We was wondering if you might be able to take a look at it when you have time?”

 

“Well,” Guy started after a quick glance at Lester. “Being born and raised on a farm, we did pick up a little about mechanican. Our Dad is mighty handy with machinery and taught us a bit, so we could take a look but right now, we need to get back to camp for some eats and sleep. Today was a mighty long day.”

“Hey. No hurry boys. We’ll be here at least long enough to put together some money afor we move on.”

“Ok.” Lester said. “Show us where your camped and we’ll stop by when we can.”

That’s mighty fine of you boys. We thank you.”

 

So that’s the way the next couple of months went. Guy and Lester being such good workers with special skills handy from a farm, quickly moved up the ladder of responsibility until they were both made foreman. Guy was in charge of all the tractor operators and Lester became the head mechanic.

Before they knew it, the little jingle in their trousers turned into a heavy but welcome weight they were forced to deal with. So the lead foreman took them both into town when there was a break in the work to open up a savings account and deposit their hard earned cash in a safe place.

Truth was, in those times, they probably could have just hidden the money in their tent or buried it but Daddy didn’t raise no fools, so they did the right thing.

 

They not only found time in the mornings and evenings to fix the truck for the folks they’d met beside the river but when word got out, they started making extra money working on other peoples automobiles in the camp.

Having been raised with almost nothing the only thing they spent money on was a can of coffee and a few vegetables to supplement their ongoing diet of Fish, flour pancakes and of course Oranges.

That first cup of java was manna from heaven, boosting their morning energy levels nicely. Turned out other folks had a hankering for some coffee also, so in short order there was a new welcoming smell mixed with the campfire smoke drifting lazily throughout the camp.

Guy and Lester weren’t sure if it was just the coffee or the addition of food into the camp but most mornings now came with a fair amount of the morning noises, including laughter that normal humans, especially children make when their feeling well.

Some nights they were even hearing a lone harmonica singing a little happy tune or a guitar and singer off in the distance lamenting about lost love or some such.

 

With the Orange season coming to an end, the camp atmosphere started slowly changing from an encampment to a place full of the activity of folks packing up and moving on.

At the farm, things were thinning out each day. More and more folks were receiving their last coins and bidding farewell.

Because Guy and Lester had worked themselves into the upper ranks of employee’s there, the owners wanted to keep them on at least long enough to finish everything up. In fact one day the owner asked them to meet him in the main ranch house for a little talk.

The night before the meeting, they both spent extra time in the river scrubbing their clothes and bodies extra well to present themselves properly to the owners. With everyone’s rush to leave the camp, they’d even found a comb someone had dropped, so they were able to use it instead just their fingers to straighten out their normally unruly hair.

 

 

To be continued:

 

 

 

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

Part 6.

After finding a place to set up camp at the oakie encampment, they finally found sleep’s reprieve from the daemons seemingly always tugging at their ragged shirtsleeves.  

The next morning started at the crack of dawn. With everyone there badly in need of jobs, they were all interested in an early start. Guy woke with the cooking smells wafting through the encampment like flower essences straight from the heavens above. It had been so long since Guy and Lester had heard the sounds of pots and pans making the music of breakfast, Guy at first thought he had to be dreaming.

The nearby river’s bounty added the wonderful smells of fish frying in pans with the flour pancakes adding their own earthy aromas. Combined with the ever-present Orange essences, they both jerked awake to the rumbling of their stomachs as alarm clocks.

They hadn’t had time last night to do any fishing, so they set about starting a fire to cook some flour pancakes, while they dug into some of the Oranges they’d pilfered last night with the others. The truth was, the Oranges were so fresh, so naturally healthy, they couldn’t imagine becoming tired of them.

As they sat watching the bubbles slowly make their way through the flour on the pan, they first heard, then saw one of the close by campers walk up.

“Howdy boys.” The man greeted when he got within earshot.

“Well howdy backatcha sir.” Lester answered as he stood to greet the man. “My names Lester and this here.” He said pointing toward Guy who was also standing up. “Is Guy.”

“They call me slim.” The newcomer said. “On account of….” As he pointed down at his stick thin body and smiled. “But my real name be Jim. Jim Stevens.”

“Hi Slim.” Guy smiled back in greeting. “Lester and I are brothers and our last name be Huston.”

“I figured as much.” Slim said. “You look an awful lot alike.”

After exchanging a hardy handshake, Guy said. “Well, have a seat Slim. I’d offer you some coffee but we don’t have any. Would ya like a pancake?”

“No, no, I just had me a bite to eat. No, I saw you folks arrive last evening and figured you’d not have time to catch yourself some fish for breakfast, so I brought you a couple extras we had for ya.” He said as he untied a burlap sack from his rope belt and showed them two fine looking fish straight from the river.

“Now that is mighty fine of you sir.” Guy said with a hungry gleam in his eye.

“Slim! Please, just call me Slim, Guy.”

“Well we thank you Slim.” Lester said as he gathered the fish up and got out his knife to start the cleaning process.

That’s quite alright boys.” Slim smiled.  “Ifen you catch extras down at the river, maybe you could share some.”

“That we will Slim.” Guy smiled back. “That we will.”

 

Not long after they finished their heavenly breakfast and cleaned up, they joined a line of other men shuffling their way through the encampment heading toward the Orange groves to hopefully find work.

When they got to the Orange farm’s main barn, the folks there had a small table set up for the hopefuls to fill out a little paper work for a job.

After that, it was a simple matter of showing the work Forman the paperwork. Then he’d have a quick little talk to see what kind of skills they might possess, to help him decide what work he’d set each of them up with.

So within a very short period of time, Guy found himself driving tractors and Lester was assigned as a mechanic on the farm.

The nature of employment in those days were you were paid in cash at the end of each day, so after working from just after sunup to growing dusk, Guy and Lester again joined the other men now almost stumbling in their exhaustion to walk back to the encampment. Only now they each had a small cache of tinkling coins adding weight and hope to their bodies and souls.

The first thing they did when they arrived back at camp was to grab up a handful of dirty cloths and their fishing poles and gear and head off to the river to join others already there in various stages of washing cloths, themselves and fishing for their evening meal.

With the California weather being so perfect, even in the night, they like most folks out of necessity and a slight bit of decorum left their cloths on and sat on the stones up to their chests and let the slowly moving waters take care of the grime, sweat, blood and stains on their cloths and bodies.

For Guy and Lester, coming from a place almost completely devoid of water in any form, this was heaven on Earth.

To be continued:

We ain’t got it so bad, now do we?

Part 4 & 5

We last left Guy and Lester limping their way between tire patches across a part of America that had nothing but fear driven hate for these newcomer white trash from the southeast. Truth was, it was bad everywhere and the locals feared these lowlifes flooding the area would be taking their jobs. They figured they’d be willing to work for penny’s, so what little factories and business’s were still hiring would have no choice but to take advantage of that fact.

With fear being the kindling and fire of danger, it was only sheer luck that Guy and Lester finally one day stood at the border between Nevada and California in one piece and once more danced the dance of joy.

On the way west, they’d seen flyers telling of lots of jobs on the farms in California, so that’s where they headed. Compared to coming across the country, California seemed such a busy place with less chances to use their special gasoline device and they were running mighty low on fuel now, so they had to find some way to make money soon.

It was such a slow arduous trip across the country that it was early 1932 before they arrived in what they were now considering the promise land. As they traveled on highway 99, they saw vast green fields planted with every description of vegetable crops and mile and after mile of fruit and nut trees planted in rows so straight, their eye couldn’t begin to see the end of them.

Also, they saw men and women tilling the soil, planting, pruning, driving tractors and toiling in the fields by the hundreds, which only increased the growling in their stomachs along with the hope in their souls.

One of the discerning things they noticed while driving by the fields were the folks in small lines waiting for work, a testament to how many people were there for the available jobs. They suspected this would be the case but could only hope their timing was such, they could get in on the beginning of the job rush just starting from out east.

Just south of Los Angeles they saw their chance at a job with mile after mile of Orange groves on both sides of Highway 99 as far as their eyes could see in every direction. Once again they saw hundreds of field hands hustling the oranges into wagons, like ants bringing the honey to the queen bee. To their delight, they could tell by the lack of lines that there was work to be had here.

With sunset fast approaching, Guy and Lester really needed to find a place to make camp for the night and get something to eat. While coming across the country, on top of stealing chickens, fishing and the rare times they found game to hunt, they were still constantly hungry.

Having no idea where they could set up some kind of temporary camp while hopefully working the orange groves around the area, all they could do was watch the others like themselves coming and going. They soon noticed a few heading down a side road heading eastward following their now constantly elongating shadows, so they jumped in line and followed them to see where it might lead. Along the way, they came across a family along side the road with steam rising in the air from the engine of their old car. As they passed the scene, they saw at least a dozen children from babies to teenagers looking about as forlorn and lost as anyone could be. They all wore threadbare clothing showing more skin and bones that material.

Both Guy and Lester were pretty handy when it came to fixing cars, so they pulled over up ahead and walked back to be greeted by a middle-aged man wiping his forehead in the dry hot air of Southern California and a wife with tears leaving dirty trails down her grimy face.

Even with their dire predicament, they still greeted the brothers with smiles showing more missing teeth than intact and after scrubbing his hand on his trousers; he held it out for a firm handshake.

“Howdy friend.” The man said.
”Howdy.” Guy answered back. “Looks like your having some trouble here.”
”Yup. Seems something is wrong with the old radiator or something. Just all the sudden like it started pissin steam like a geyser.”

“Well, we could take a look see ifin you don’t mind.” Lester said. “We knows a little about engines.”

“Well, that’d be mighty friendly of you sir. We’d surely appreciate any help ya might be able to give right about now.”

After opening the hood of the old car, it was quickly determined the problem was only a crack in the radiator hose, so Guy and Lester headed back to their pickup to retrieve a piece of rubber from a inner tube along with some bailing wire. Then after cracking open the radiator cap to let out the pressure, they went about encircling the cracked hose with the rubber, then wiring both ends with the tightened wire and they were done.

In the meantime, the man had brought back a bucket of water from a nearby pond, so he took the cap off and refilled the tank, then replaced the cap and restarted the motor.

As they stood there inspecting the patch and finding no more leaks, the man thanked them profusely.

“Sir?” Lester asked. “We was wondering. We seen others heading down this road and just followed along having nowhere else to go tonight. Do you know where we might find a place to make camp for a few days while we look for work?

“Why I do sir.” The man answered. “Matter of fact, that’s a where we were aheading. We heard from others there was a small river a ways on ahead where folks like us were setting up camp, so we thought to go there too. If you’d just follow us, we’ll head thataway right now afore this here radiator hose gives us anymore trouble.”
”Well. That sounds good to us.” Guy said. “We’ll be right behind ya, in case there’s anymore trouble with your car.”
”That be mighty nice of you sir. Mighty nice indeedy. I thank ya. Ifin there be any way to pay ya back, I will.”

So before long, the man and women got all the kids pilled back into the now very crowded car and they pulled back onto the highway like a caravan of two following a few other cars traveling that way.

It wasn’t long after cresting a long hill they had their first glimpse of a waterway winding it’s way through the countryside.

After so much traveling with no convenient way to bath, the idea of a nice soak in relatively clean river water greatly appealed to Guy and Lester. Soap being a luxury they hadn’t had in oh so long, it didn’t matter. Just being able to soak their bodies and cloths in water sounded mighty fine right about then.

As they got close enough to start seeing details of the encampment, they noted something odd. Interspersed throughout the area were 50-gallon barrels, stacked high with huge overflowing mounds of Orange peels, some stretching for a dozen feet encircling the barrels.

When they stopped and asked someone why all the orange peels were piled all around, there were told the men would walk a couple of miles in the dark of each night and steal the oranges from the surrounding groves to have anything to eat. They told them these were the same groves some of the men were finding jobs at picking the fruit during the day. They would purposely leave some of the oranges closest to the river they could come back and get in the night for themselves.

It took a while meandering between the camps and people but they finally found a clearing they might call their own, at least for a while.

All the way through the maze of tents, shanties and leaning cardboard affairs some were calling home were every ragtag example of humanity one could imagine. Even though Guy and Lester were members of a family with 13 children, it was still rather discerning to see so many clearly malnourished, skinny, at times almost lifeless children they saw. Usually with so many children there would be loud noises children always make but everyone they saw were mostly withdrawn and quiet, only setting or standing with eyes glazed over with hunger, sadness and fatigue from the bleak circumstances they found themselves in.

Later after setting up their rather sparse encampment, they joined a group of men heading over to the groves for just enough oranges to supplement the flour they had. For the next two weeks all they had to eat was a few fish from the river and flour pancakes for bread and oranges, lots of oranges.

To be continued: