The Grapes of Wrath | Page 2

John Steinbeck
the direction of the wind.
The dawn came, but no day. In the gray sky a red sun appeared, a dim red circle that
gave a little light, like dusk; and as that day advanced, the dusk slipped back toward
darkness, and the wind cried and whimpered over the fallen corn.
Men and women huddled in their houses, an d they tied handkerchiefs over their
noses when they went out, and wo re goggles to protect their eyes.
When the night came again it was black nigh t, for the stars could not pierce the dust
to get down, and the window lights could no t even spread beyond their own yards.
Now the dust was evenly mixed with the air, an emulsion of dust and air. Houses were
shut tight, and cloth wedged around doors and windows, but the dust came in so thinly
that it could not be seen in the air, and it se ttled like pollen on the chairs and tables, on
the dishes. The people brushed it from their sh oulders. Little lines of dust lay at the
door sills.
In the middle of that night the wind passed on and left the land quiet. The dust-filled
air muffled sound more completely than f og does. The people, lying in their beds,
heard the wind stop. They awakened when the rushing wind was gone. They lay
quietly and listened deep into the stillness. Then the roosters crowed, and their voices
were muffled, and the people stirred restlessly in their beds and wanted the morning.
They knew it would take a long time for the dust to settle out of the air. In the morning
the dust hung like fog, and the s un was as red as ripe new blood. All day the dust sifted
down from the sky, and the next day it sifted down. An even blanket covered the earth.
It settled on the corn, piled up on the tops of the fence posts, piled up on the wires; it
settled on roofs, blankete d the weeds and trees.
The people came out of their houses and sm elled the hot stinging air and covered
their noses from it. And the children came out of the houses , but they did not run or
shout as they would have done after a rain. Men stood by their fences an\
d looked at the
ruined corn, drying fast now, only a little gr een showing through the film of dust. The
men were silent and they did not move often. And the women came out of the houses
to stand beside their men—to feel whethe r this time the men would break. The women
studied the men's faces secr etly, for the corn could go, as long as something else
remained. The children stood near by, drawi ng figures in the dust with bare toes, and
the children sent exploring senses out to see whether men and women would break.
The children peeked at the faces of the men and women, and then drew careful lines in
the dust with their toes. Hors es came to the watering trough s and nuzzled the water to
clear the surface dust. After a while the faces of the watching men lost their bemused
perplexity and became hard and angry and re sistant. Then the women knew that they
were safe and that there was no break. Then they asked, What'll we do? And the men
replied, I don't know. But it was all right . The women knew it was all right, and the
watching children knew it was all right. Wome n and children knew deep in themselves
that no misfortune was too great to bear if their men were whole. The women went into

the houses to their work, and the children began to play, but cautiously\
at first. As the
day went forward the sun became less red. It flared down on the dust-blanketed land.
The men sat in the doorways of their houses; their hands were busy with sticks and
little rocks. The men sa t still—thinking—figuring.
2
A HUGE RED TRANSPORT truck stood in front of the little roadside restaurant.
The vertical exhaust pipe muttered softly, a nd an almost invisible haze of steel-blue
smoke hovered over its end. It was a new truck, shining red, and in twelve-inch letters
on its sides— OKLAHOMA CITY TRANSPORT COMPANY . Its double tires were new,
and a brass padlock stood strai ght out from the hasp on the big black doors. Inside the
screened restaurant a radio played, quiet da nce music turned low the way it is when no
one is listening. A small outlet
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