Gang Aft A-gley
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to Of Mice and Men or affiliates.
Beyond the sharp walls of the brown bunkhouse was the small well that the men drank from after they played horseshoes at night and on their free Sundays. A rusting box sat under the spout, half-empty of the water. Inside, resting on the bottom, submerged by the clear water, was a ladle. It held a half-lip mark on its side from the repeated use by every worker that had passed through the ranch in their desperation for a job.
A dim sun played over their heads, marking the arrival of night. The moon could be seen, rising over the shadows that covered the green and brown mountains. A cricket started to chirp, a lonely chirp, unaccompanied by its fellows.
"Relax," Slim told George gently, motioning to the spout. George only followed his glance and did nothing until Slim pumped the handle, letting a thick stream of the water out. George cupped his hands under it and splashed a generous amount of water onto his face.
"Thanks," George answered.
"You hadda," Slim repeated to the quiet man. "I swear you hadda." George nodded slowly, looking back to his hands. "Let me grab somethin' stronger. You look like you need it."
Slim disappeared behind the walls of the bunkhouse, hidden for a few moments. George watched the door swing back and forth on its rusty hinges. When Slim finally returned, he held a near-empty bottle and passed it to George.
Flipping the cork out of its place, George took a long drink from the bottle, not pausing until half of what was left was gone. He wiped his mouth with his arm, his breathing a bit heavier, panting, and his eyes reddening slightly the way the eyes of a man who lost everything and wanted to lay down to rest forever would.
"What're you gonna do?" Slim asked. "You don' have Lennie to travel with."
"I don' suppose I need to travel," George answered shortly. "I suppose I can jus' stay here an' work some more. Then I can jus' go at the end of the month an'…" He broke off, breathing deeply. His eyes prickled annoyingly, sending stings through his brain. "An' just blow it in a cat house."
"Tha's no way to do it." Slim raised a hand to his eyes, rubbing his forehead, then let it drop back to his side. "Workers come an' get their pay, then blow it all. They a'ways end up movin' to a new ranch, an' they have nothin' left."
George answered, "Why can' I do the same, then?"
"I know you 'ad a plan," Slim said in a low voice. "I know you did. Ever'one comes 'ere with their plan, but you can keep it."
"We 'ad… wanted to have our farm." George gave a brittle smile to Slim, remembering the hundreds of times he had told the plan to Lennie. "Lennie would tend them rabbits, and we - we would -"
Live on the fatta the lan'! echoed Lennie's voice through his head.
Slim nodded. "I understand. How far are you?"
"We would have on'y needed this month." George wiped his eyes with his arm and dunked a hand in the still water, rubbing the warm water around his face and neck. Some dripped onto the ground from his face. "God, we were a'most there…. If on'y Lennie hadn'…"
Slim rested a hand on George's shoulder. "Jus' keep on workin', and buy that farm, by God."
George glanced at the wad of paper in his hand. The green bills felt heaven-sent, even with their grainy and ratted edges. They would need one more month of work without Lennie…. George closed his eyes, sitting down on the edge of his bunk. He drowned out the voices of the men as they talked about heading into the town that night.
If he and Candy put their money together, it would be five-fifty already. He opened his eyes a moment to glance at the old man, then shut them again. One month out of him…. He could already send Candy up to the farm, promise the last fifty by the end of the month. He could easily buy the farm right then and there.
George lay down, feeling the crooked springs of the bunk, and shifted slightly to face to wall. One month and he could have the life he had dreamed of for years, work for himself, have the chickens and the alfalfa and the rabbits. He could get Candy a new dog, get some cats. He could sit near the stove and keep warm when the rain pounded on their roof. He could have his own garden with anything in it, not the damn barley he had seen for so long.
He could live alone after Candy died, with only a bunch of animals for company. He could spend the nights waiting for a friend to visit, but no one would come to his door.
George waited until night fell over the ranch, and rode into town with the rest of the ranchers.
