Chapter 7

"You hadda George. I swear you hadda. Come on with me." Those last words slim had said as he led George away from the grim scene by the river seemed to echo through the dark recesses of George's mind like a lone eagle in a dark, empty canyon. And as those echoing words faded from memory, more came to overlap them.

"I said, did you know the killer personally?"

George shook himself from the nauseating remembrance of the previous week's morbid events and turned his attention to the reporter perched; notebook in hand, on what had several days ago been Lennie's bed.

"I already told ya. I didn't know the big ox. I jus' brung 'im down is all. I hadda bring 'im down." George forced himself to stay focused and not let his mind wander.

"Right." The reporter replied, scribbling down a few more notes. "I guess that about does it. I'm gonna go talk to a few of the other hands and then go off and type up a winger of an article for the paper."

"You jus' do that then. An' don't come crawlin' belly up back in here to ask no more God Damned questions.

"Oh no sir. Course not sir." The young reporter said nervously.

He was an ugly kid in George's opinion, all bushy brown eyebrows and an awful squint even with his overly strong bifocals on. What made it worse was his obvious fervor to write the perfect article, even if it meant not getting his facts straight. George had known straight off it didn't matter whether he told the truth or not, so he had lied about most of his answers out of sheer spite.

As soon as the squinting reporter left, Slim came into the bunk house.

"You lied, George."

"Yeh, I know. Not like the stupid son of a bitch woulda seen the truth if it knicked him in the rear."

Slim shook his head, not in disagreement for what George said, but rather in agreement of their mutual dislike for the reporter.

"Anyways, he'll get a hellofa different story from Curly over there. The stupid son of a bitch. If he hadna lost track of that tart of a wife of his none of this woulda happened."

This time Slim nodded.

"Yeh, I reckon she had it comin' from the start." He said, leaning against the door post as George laid back on his bunk.

"I reckon so. An' I reckon Lennie had it comin' same as that whore."

At the doorway, Slim flinched. There was an uneasy silence between the two before Slim spoke again.

"You hadda do it George. It twern't yer fault no more'n it was Lennie's hisself."

George jumped up abruptly and checked his watch.

"Damnit I fergot. I was s'posed to go into town today to buy some wood fer Curley's wife's casket. Jesus Christ it figers they'd send me into do it. Why can't Curley get his own dang wood?"

"You know why he cain't, George. He's still got that busted hand. Ifn it makes ya feel any better I'll go get the wood. After all, it's a Sunday and I ain't got nothin' else to do."

George swore under his breath. "No. I can get my own damn wood, Slim. I ain't as soft as all that." Without another word George left the room. It was past midnight before he returned, half drunk with three dollars worth of beer in his belly and the sorrows of a life time clouding his head.

By the time George had awoken, it was Monday afternoon. The other hands were all lazing about the bunk house having finished their shortened duties. After the incident between Curley's wife and Lennie, the ranch owner had told them to only do what was needed to get through the day, with no better excuse then respect for the dead.

"Off the fatta the lan…" George mumbled softly into his pillow as he lay in the confused state between sleeping and waking.

"What was that George?" Whit asked.

George, now fully awake, sat up in his bed and yawned widely.

"Aw, nothing. Jus' dreamin. Jesus, my head hurts like Hell."

No one answered, knowing fully well how irritable a tired man with a hangover could be.

"Hey Carlson," Whit said at last. "What's that ya got in yer hand?"

Carlson looked down at his large hand, his face alight with remembrance.

"I fergot all about it! 'S today's paper." He unrolled it gingerly and set it next to him at the roughly made table in the center of the room.

"What's so great about a paper that's makin' you treat it all careful like?" George asked, half irritated by the mystery, half curious about it.

"They put that article out."

"Already?"

"Yup. When I wen' up to town this morning' to get the boss an' Curley some supplies I saw it on the front page here."

After stretching a bit, George walked over and sat down next to Carlson.

"Well? Whatcha waiting' for? Got out so dang early the story must be worth somethin'."

Carlson nodded and began reading, his voice taking on a concentrated tone.

"It says-

Tragedy at the Ranch

By: Mackerel Andrews

It's expected at least once in a boring town's lifetime that

something interesting will take place. Salinas, while being far from

boring, has had its share of crimes and other such activities that cause

a stir amongst the people, but never anything to such a magnitude as

what occurred recently.

Last Wednesday, a young woman was found raped and brutally

murdered in the barn at the ranch off the outskirts of town. The woman,

who has been identified as the ranch owner's daughter in law, was in a

frightful state when she was discovered half buried in the hay. Her limbs

twisted in a cruel and nauseating manner, her open eyes staring into

nothingness, the shock of her murder still apparent in her face. Upon

further investigation of the body it was discovered that certain marks

on her head and arms show signs of molestation prior to her murder.

though the man suspected as the killer was found shot to death by a river

the next morning, it is unclear if the true culprit has been caught.

The other ranch hands at the ranch were reluctant to give up any

further information they held or suspected, but several things were made

clear. The man suspected as the killer has a history of crimes such as

this, the most recent of these having occurred in a town called Weed.

the woman's husband also claims that he had been threatened severely

previously, and that the man had 'made eyes' at his wife.

Any further evidence is yet to be discovered, but it is quite likely

that the person who inflicted such pain and cruelty on such a young

woman may still be at large. It is recommended that the people of Salinas

keep a close eye on their homes and streets, and that they report any

strange goings on. Hopefully this terrible criminal will be found and

justice will be given, if it has not already been done."

The room was silent as Carlson finished reading the article. Slim was the first the break the silence.

"Not a real bright son of a gun was he?"

"You jus' shut your pie hole, Slim! It ain't Lennie's fault that tart got herself killed. It ain't…it ain't his fault…Jesus!" George screamed aloud and slammed his fist down on the table.

"I meant the reporter, George." Slim said softly.

"Oh."

There was another awkward silence, its uneasy spell shattered abruptly when Crooks came running fervently up to the open door.

"In the…the-in the barn! In the barn!"

Crooks managed to say between breaths. He was sweating profusely and seemed frightened out of his wits.

"What are you talkin' about?" Slim asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Candy…in the barn…"

"What about Candy?"

"He's in the barn Sir!"

George grumbled something under his breath but Slim cut him off.

'What's wrong with him bein' in the' barn?"

At this point, Crooks turned very grave and straightened up as much as his bad back would allow.

"He's dead, sir."

Of all the stunned silenced in the history of the world, none compared to the one that fell over the room after this comment. It seemed unreal, as if this final occurrence had shattered all remaining reality the ranch hand had been holding on to.

Slim stood in the middle of the room, hands shaking, face stunned. Carlson, still gripping the newspaper, was staring blankly at it as if hoping it would explain what would going on. George and Whit were frozen into a state of near perfect stillness, almost exact imitations of stone statutes.

"Sir?" Crooks asked quietly. He had caught his breath, and was now leaning slightly on the doorpost and looking genuinely concerned for the ranch hands for possibly the first time in his life.

Slim didn't speak. His cool seemed to have been lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth; his entire being had changed. His skin, sweaty and pale, gave him the appearance of a man either constantly nervous or constantly sick. At any rate, he could put forth no consoling words, no gentle phrase to wipe away the shock of the moment.

It was George who finally stood and walked to the door; George who gestured for the others to follow him and George who came upon Candy's body first in the barn.

Except for the abnormal limpness of his form, Candy looked merely like an old, tired man who had fallen asleep. George kneeled down beside the old man and checked his pulse.

"Is he…?" Carlson asked softly from the barn door, still gripping the rolled up newspaper.

"No. But he's close to it I recko-"

"George…George…" George fell backwards in surprise as Candy's lips parted for weak words.

"Y-yeah, Candy?" He said softly, leaning closer to hear what the man said.

"S-sorry…George…'bout th' lan' an' all. Woulda…woulda liked to've washed dishes fer ya…"

George smiled nervously and gripped the dying man's stump of a hand.

"Nonsense. T'ain't nothin' to be sorry 'bout." George tried to keep his voice steady and free of the fear he was now feeling.

"Yeah…but…sorry 'bout Lennie, George."

"S'not yer fault. S'not nobody's fault 'cept that tart's." George's face suddenly hardened and his tone became severe. "Hey…waitaminute. Why the Hell are you in here? You was jus' fine yesterday…"

Candy smiled weakly, his skin pale and flaxen. "Yeah…old…old people like me…like me change fast." His voice held a calm peace that George had not heard before.

"Don' worry none…none 'bout m-me. I've…I've…always b-been a…a good Ch-Christian." Candy smiled painfully.

"Well if ya see Lennie up there…tell 'im I said hi. And Candy…tell 'im I'm sorry."

Candy nodded and tried to smile again, and then his body went limp in the straw.

A tear appeared at the corner of George's eye, and he brushed it quickly away. He had never been a real sentimental guy, and he didn't plan to start right now."

"Well George?" Slim asked at last after they had been silent for awhile.

"Well what?"

"Where we gonna bury 'em? They gotta be buried somewhere…"

George stopped for a moment and considered. He had never really thought about what happened to people after they had died…it had never occurred to him that a person might have to choose where to put them…

"I don' know. Why're you askin' me?"

Slim shrugged as George stood up from his kneeling position and wiped his sweating palms on his jeans.

"Well, seein' as how you took to likin' them both…kinda' lookin' after them…"

"So I'm responsible now? Jesus! I can't even get away from it when they've died an' gone!"

Slim shook his head in a disapproving way.

"Alright, alright fine." George said at last and his brow furrowed in deep thought. Suddenly his face lightened and he smiled widely.

"I know just the place."

"Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. Jus' th' two of 'em. No ma'am s'not a joke. Why? Jus' wanna give 'em a proper like burial. They ain't never hadda…was' that? You'll do it? Right near the fam'ly plot? Great! Thank ya ma'am. Yes ma'am. Friday at noon. Alright. Bye." George hung up the boss's telephone and smiled at Slim.

"Well, I've don' it, Slim."

"That's great…but don' what? You still haven' told me what this is all about."

George shook his head, still smiling widely.

"I'll tell you all about it when we get back to the bunk house.

With that said the two made their way noiselessly to the front door. George tipped his hate joyfully to the boss, thanking him for the use of his telephone as he walked out the door.

It was a warm day, nothing like the hot days of summer, and there was a pleasant smell of fall in the slowly cooling air. A bird flew over head, singing joyously as it dived and flipped in ecstasy of the afternoon goodness. Not long after a flock of birds heading towards more tropical climate for the winter flew noisily overhead and George whistled at them, his eyes shining. Slim merely shook his head at the extreme change in his friend's emotions.

George was still smiling as he walked into the bunk house. Whit and Carlson were playing cards at the card table when the two walked in.

"I jus' can't believe it." George said happily. He was very obviously proud of himself and whatever he had accomplished.

"Alright George, I give up. What're you so damn happy about?"

"Well," George said as he sat down on his bunk. "It all started when Lennie'n me set out. He'd always be talkin' about some foolish notion or 'nother, and fin'ly he got me interested of…settling on a piece of lan'. "George smiled as if he'd said something clever. "Now, this was back long time ago mind, and we was in much nicer country. Anyways, I saw this right purty piece of lan' one day when we was out campin', and while Lennie was still asleep I went to have a look at it. Turns out there was an old couple livin' right there on that spit of lan'. Right nice fellers to. They gave me a tour and told me, they told me ifn I had the money they'd sell. Said they'd been wanting to move west for sometime, towards the California coast an' all. So I told them I had didn't have much money, but I had a Hellofa big friend who could help drum some up for me. I told 'em I'd come back some day with what they wanted, and then we'd exchange money fer lan' deed, all nice like. So, me'n Lennie set off to get that money. I told 'im about that piece of lan' ev'ry day, whenever he started askin' about them damn rabbits I'd have to tell 'im all about it again. He loved the lot of it. All that about alfalfa-"

"Yeah I remember him sayin' somethin' about that." Slim said, nodding. "An' I think I see where this is goin'. I'm guessin' that couple had a telephone, and a number you jus' happened to know?"

"Yup. Sure did." They were both grinning now.

"What're you grinnin' so bright like about? I still don' understand…" Carlson said.

George was too happy to be annoyed by someone's slow understanding. "I'm gonna give Lennie and Candy that spit of land they wanted. An' all the alfalfa they want'll grow up over them while they spend the rest've the world livin' like kings."

Carlson and Whit joined in the broad grinning. "That's a right good thing for you to do, George. A right good thing. When we gonna bury 'em?"

"This Friday."

"That's in two days!"

George nodded. "I guess we better get a move on then!"

As soon as the boss of the ranch heard George's plan to bury Lennie and Curly in the country, he agreed. The hands had expected him to put up a big argument as he'd be loosing valuable workers for more then three days, but he'd just shook his head and said it was expected, whatever that meant.

So, with the help of some soft hearted people who didn't read the weekly newspaper in town, the four ranch hands were able to get a wagon, together and two caskets. It was Thursday evening when they finally set off towards the country plot, and Friday morning when they arrived.

"You weren't kidding, George. This is a right fine place here." Carlson said from his place at the driver's bench. They had all taken turns during the night driving the two big, brown mares they'd borrowed from the ranch. It had been a little strange at first, sleeping right next to the caskets, but they had gotten used to it once their eyes grew tired enough.

"I don't kid." George said, smiling around at the land. It seemed spring had simply forgotten to leave this place. The air was thick with the smell of rain and honeysuckle, and the clouds over head were large and streaked with the morning hues of gold and red. There was forest on either side of the road, broken by patches of lush, green grasses and multicolored flowers. Every now and then a deer or other creature peeked curiously out of the woods at the strange funeral procession passing through their home.

"So where exactly is this plot of land?" Slim said, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Not too far. The lady told me it's right off near the family cemetery. A right good place near some trees and alfalfa. I think she thought I was crazy, askin' if there was pleny of alfalfa near by…but I told her there had to be or it wouldn't be right." George climbed over the front of the wagon to sit on the bench by Carlson. "Here, lemmie drive a bit." He took the reins carefully as the horses continued to trot, undaunted by weariness.

"Jesus…I ain't never seen a place like this. You sure it's real?" Whit asked as he looked around himself.

"Can ya see why that big bastard wanted it so bad?" George said softly. They all nodded and continued to gaze about in wonderment.

At last a tiny hill came into view off in the distance and slowly began to grow. As they came closer more detail became clear; some trees and headstones, and the wrought iron gate that encircled the plot.

At long last George brought the horses to a stop off the road a bit near the farthest of the trees. There was indeed an abundance of alfalfa growing around the trunk of the tree; a perfect place for Lennie and Candy to spend eternity.

As the four jumped out of the wagon they stretched and breathed in the cool, pleasant air. Once they had rested for awhile, George got out the shovels and passed them around. The funeral had officially begun.

The shovels were dull with age and use, but they seemed to cut through the soil so easily that the holes were dug in no time at all. The caskets were a bit more difficult to handle, especially Lennie's.

"Jesus, this weighs a ton." George stated as they lowered it carefully into the ground." It landed in the damp earth with a solid thud, and they rested several more moments before starting with the other coffin.

Candy had always been a light man his entire life, and had become even lighter in old age. His casket was like a feather compared to a brick next to Lennie's.

"Well," Slim said at last when both coffins were laid firmly into the ground and the pre-made headstones in place. "Guess this is it…" A solemn sense of sadness returned to each of their hearts as they realized the finality of the situation.

"Lennie…" George said softly. "You may not've been the brightest…Hell you were downright dumb at times…but you were always a good pal. I'm sorry…I'm sorry it had to end the way it did. I hope you an' Candy here enjoy yer lan'…guess ya didn't really expect to get it this way…but the…" At this point George gulped as his eyes welled up with tears. He had promised himself earlier that he would not cry…promised himself he would be a man throughout this thing…but sometimes promises just aren't weren't keeping. Kneeling down by the gaping hole in the ground, George placed a hand on the coffin and let the tears fall from his eyes for the first time since childhood. "You get to take care of the rabbits now…they'll come and eat this alfalfa…see? Ya don' even have to remember. An'…an' you Candy…" George placed his other hand on Candy's coffin. "You don' have to wash no dishes… or push no damn mop and broom…"

Slim, Whit and Carlson each nodded their heads and sprinkled a handful of dirt onto the coffins. The three were at a loss for words, but it didn't matter. George had already said everything that needed to be said.

Filling the holes up seemed much harder than it had been to dig them. With each scoop George remembered another time he'd been mean to Lennie…another time Lennie had been nice to him. He shook his head and muttered things to himself to try and keep his mind away from it, but somehow he just could get over the feeling that Lennie…that man who'd been more like a kid brother all his life, was gone forever.

Once the holes were filled completely, the four stood around the graves, their shovels in hand and their hands over their hearts in respect for the dead. Slowly and solemnly they packed up the shovels and piled into the wagon, George again at the reins with Slim sitting beside him.

"Well? Where to now?" Slim said softly after they had sat still and silent for a moment.

"The lady said we could come to th' house…said it was wrong of a gal not to welcome such a sad company to have breakfast…nice lady." George said softly and flicked the reins. The horses finished chewing the lush grass and pulled the wagon towards the road. As the wooden wagon moved away from the gravesite, George turned his head to see a rabbit sniffing about the grave the belonged to Lennie…it curiously poked it's head around in exploration of the giant mound that had appeared and then began nibbling at the sweet alfalfa…and somehow George seemed to see Candy and Lennie, kneeling on the ground above the newly filled graves, smiling at the rabbit and coaxing it to come closer. Lennie looked up, and waved childishly at George.

"Hey, h-hey George! I can feed the rabbits George! See?" He demonstrated his feeding abilities by pushing the alfalfa towards the small brown animal. "I won' ferget George! I won' ferget!"

A tear twinkling at the corner of his eye, George turned around and stared ahead at the road and at what would lead to the rest of his life, be it good or bad. He flicked the reins and didn't look back…