“Ya think I have? Sure this water’s nice,”
George pulled off his shirt, and tore of his slacks, “They ain’t no good no more anyway,” He said, kicking off his shoes.
“Don’t rush too much George, tha’ water, ain’t too nice,” Said Slim, watching George pull of his clothes, as he calmly shrugged his off.
“It’s the smell, I can’t stand Slim, an’ water’s water to me, even if its been through a mule barn first, I don’ mind, jus wanna get this damn smell offa me,”
“There ain’t no stink as bad as ya think George, I don’ know what yous been smellin’, but it sure ain‘t what I been smellin’.”
Slim said, dipping into the shallow pool, “We ain’t never gonna get clean in water dirty as this,” He said, sighing, as he sank into the warm water, “Ain’t never gonna wash the stink of death offa me, ain’t never,” said George quietly “To think, jus’ yesterday, I was bucking grain-bags, thinking, nobody gonna tell me my future, Im different from y’all, I have a dream, Im getting the Jack together, then im out,” He splashed water onto his face and arms, and rubbed hard circles, over and over. Then and lay back, defeated, Slim watched him, his face as emotionless and it was ageless. “An today, I goes shootin’. An I shot Lennie, who I ain’t never thought I’d be shootin’.” He paused, and looked into the water,
“Jus look at me now, I have nothin’.”
“I telt you before George, you hadda do it. You braver a man than I thought, what more could ya have done for him? Yous a stronger man than I will ever be, or any guy down at the ranch. If it want you, It’d be Curly that let him off, you did him good. Man, you did him good!”
Slim said gently,
“I spose your right Slim, I did what I hadda do, and I done it good, I jus wish I hadda’na hadda do it,”
“Let it pass George, have a damn good laugh at Susy’s, and let it all go. It’ll be hard, hell, it’ll be hard! I bin through it all, but I came out on the other side alrigh’, and you gonna do it too, I know it. We done washin’ now, the suns goin down, and I wanna get dry, Im clean enough.”
Slim climbed out, the sun was low in the mountains, and his shadow reached far across the yellow grass. George shook his hair and patted his body dry, Slim propped his hat back onto his head, and climbed back into his jeans and denim waistcoat, waiting for George to do the same.
They walked back down the trail, into the yard and in silence strode in the bunkhouse.
“Yous two don’ take your time, we gots to gets to Susys before she closes them doors,” Said Candy excitedly, “You outta bathed with us, down by the rock, quick dip an scrub, an your out, before you can say..”
He trailed off, as he saw their sombre faces, “ Well, ain’t you two jus the party, you planning’ on changing’ or not?”
Slim strode past Candy and Carlson, who were sprawled on the upturned cartons, scoffing at their Western magazines.
He silently slipped into fresh white washed jeans, and a white shirt, he put his waistcoat on, and adjusted a bowtie on his collar. “Say, Slim,” Said Carlson, “ You think old Curley would wanna come?” He got up off the groaning box, and went over to the window, and stroked his moustache. Slim sat on his bed, “ You know what Carlson, I bet he might jus do. You wanna go ask him?”
“Sure. George? You alrigh’ wit tha’?”
George stretched, and did up his buttons on his denim jacket, “ Course I am, Carlson, Its bout time we gotta know that fella,” He said,“ I jus gonna shave, then I’ll be ready, you guys go on up, don’ wait on me,”
Carlson stood outside, his thick body framing the door, “It’s a cold one guys, an its dark as hell already.” Slim nodded, and walked out, followed by Candy, who gently closed the door, “Gonna see ya there George, take it slow, an don’ cut ya self wit that razor!”
The door clicked shut, and he was alone. He went past the rows of beds, and the cartons, and the wooden table littered with cards scattered from the last forgotten game of euchre, and magazines, as usual. He looked out the window, across the yard, and saw the silhouettes of happy guys, laughing and joking, even Curly, the short dark figure. He turned away, and saw the gun, propped up against the far wall, near Carlsons bed. The slim frame against the whitewashed wall a sharp reminder of what he had done. And what he had to do.
“God damn it Lennie! I didn’t wanna do it! I got no’thin left; No dream, not one small hope! I’d be dragged into the same routine these old guys’d be doin for the next twenty years of their damn reped’itive lives. To hell with that! Im outta here, Im rollin’ my hoop, an I ain’t never comin’ back. Goodbye Slim, Carlson and Candy.”
He took the gun, and gathered his stuff together and walked out of the bunkhouse, along the porch, to the Mule barn. Death was a reminder even in here, the straw patch, where Curleys wife had once lain, still held her small shape. George walked toward the dim light, at the end of the barn, ignoring the shifty mules, who seemed to sense the unease that George radiated. He knocked tiredly on the old wooden door, “Crooks if you’ll jus let me in,” The door creaked on its rusty hinges, as it swung open, “ Don’ have a choice.” Said Crooks, who was doubled over, and rubbing more of the ointment onto his back. The dim light barely lit up his face, as he turned towards George, “ An’?” He said, looking expectedly up towards him, “Jes what’d you wan’?” George sighed, and leaned against the frame of the rickety door, he adjusted his hat, and pulled it from over his eyes, “ I’ve never asked ya to do anything’ for me, an’ I never done nothin to hurt ya. But please, jus tell Slim, I listened. By God did I listen, an’ tell him, im proud of him, but I jus ain’t as strong as I thought I was. I don’ wan’ him ter think I gon’ down depress’d. Telt him I rolled my hoop after Lennie, an’ I helt my head high the whole damn way.”
He turned and left. Gun in one arm, bindle in the other, and strode, tall and purposely out of the ranch. Away from the old, familiar buildings glowing with golden light, and down to the dark, forest, alive with the cold night.
