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After a few days of drowning myself in cheap whiskey and grief, my money starts to run out. I have to get a new job or simply fall asleep in the nearest gutter and hope the rats eat me before I wake. I, of course, choose the former. I only have to do a bit of searching before I find a ranch, much easier than normal, maybe because—no, no, I refuse to entertain that train of thought. I am simply lucky this time and look desperate enough to get any half-legal, low-life job, but then again, who isn't these days? I don't have to travel far, as the ranch I got employed at is still in California, only a few miles from the bar I am currently wasting away in.
After only a few miles to the south (same way he told the other ranch hands that Lennie would have gone— can’t think about that now, does no good to think about that now), I can see the new ranch. It looks pretty similar to the old one; Heck, I’m pretty sure I even heard a stream a little while back. Well, there’s no reason to stop now. I take a deep breath of clean air, probably the last I’ll have for a while, since the cows and horses stir up all that dust into the air, and head into the fray.
After meeting with the owner of “this fine ranch”, as he put it, to confirm that I’m supposed to be here, and not just some no-good scallywag trying to make a quick buck, I head to where we’ld —no, I'ld be staying. It seemed alright. Most of the bunks were made; only one was unmade, rumpled, and with a noticeable dip in the middle. The light of the quickly setting sun streamed in through the open window, motes of dust dancing in the ray. Not that there was much dust, even though we are in dusty California, the place looks pretty well clean. It was honestly impressive.
The door creaks slightly. “Hello there! Admiring my friend’s handiwork? He works all the dang time to keep this place clean.” At my slightly surprised expression, the stranger who walked in, another ranch-hand by the looks of it, continues, “Name's Charlie, I’m one of the ranch-hands here. Nice ta meet ya.” He proclaims, holding out his hand. I shake it, not quite used to someone being so open and welcoming, especially after the last few days of me being a useless drunkard.
“Well, the others should be about heading in, the sun is goin’ down, and all our work would be useless if we can’t see a thing.” And as if on cue, two more men entered the abode.
One is tall, with close-cropped hair, dark skin, and a healed, but nasty-looking burn across one side of his face. He greets me with no more than a simple nod and a tip of his threadbare hat before he hangs it up on the nearby coat rack.
The other man, however, is much more interested in me. He is slightly shorter than the other two men, and his hair is wavy, but the most surprising thing about him is the fact that he is missing his left arm.
“Hello, you’re the new ranch hand, right? I’m Oscar, the resident swamper.” — “The best dang swamper I’ve ever seen. Cooks our meals for us, too, sometimes.” Charlie cuts in. Oscar chuckles. There was an easy sort of camaraderie between the two.
“Pft, thank you, Charlie, I’m just doing my job.” he replies in an unusual accent.
“Where’s Jimmy, Big Mike, an’ Eddie?” The man with the scar across his face speaks for the first time in a low, gruff voice.
“Oh, they should be coming soon, just had to finish up the last of their job, Burn. Don’t worry, I know how you get when dinner is late.” Oscar responds, polite as anything. Ah, I thought to myself, so the man with the large burn on his face is named Burn. Fitting.
“So,” Charlie turns back to me, “do ya got a name, or do we get to make up one?” He grins, with a twinkle of mischief in his hazel eyes. “I’m George, George Milton.” I respond quickly.
A word of advice: Ranch nicknames are never good. I once knew a man who was referred to as “Organ” for months, due to an unfortunate incident with a cow.
“Well, Mr. George George Miltion, it’s just about time for dinner if y’ want to join us?” Charlie chuckles, and Oscar sighs. “If yer wondering, he’s always like this. Aye, well, I’m going ta fix us some supper.” Oscar says, as he heads out the door. I see him whistle and a small bird, the color of sunshine lands on his outstretched finger.
As Charlie catches me staring at the odd sight, he explains. “Oscar found its egg and it hatched while he was tryin’ to locate the nest. It decided he was its mama and they’ve been inseparable since. It doesn’t really do any job, but it sure is cheerful.”
After a few more minutes of small talk between me and Charlie, three more men came in, one short with sandy blonde hair and pencil thin mustache, staring daggers at the next man, a tall and bulky good natured looking fellow who was looking for guidance to the last man, who had an air of importance surrounding him, despite his slim frame.
“I swear, that twit did it on purpose!” Were the first words out of the short man's mouth and I knew I hated him instantly. “I dids not, I swear!” The tall man responded. “Both of you, calm yourselves.” The slim man said harshly. “I saw what happened, Eddie didn’t mean to trip you. Jimmy, when will you learn that y’ don’t need to fight every guy bigger than you?” Jimmy grumbles, and sits heavily on his bunk, bumping into Burn on the way. “Watch it, nitwit.”
As Eddie notices me, his eyes light up. “Hullo there, I’m Eddie Biggs!” He exclaims excitedly and waves. He sounds like Lennie, like maybe, if somehow I hadn’t’ve— No. Not this again. “N-nice t’ meet you.” Is all I am able to respond with, my mind blank. Eddie hums happily and sits down on his bunk, the unmade one.
Luckily, Oscar saves me from complete embarrassment by coming into the, now slightly cramped bunkhouse. “Alright, wash yer hands. Dinners ready. It’s beans and rice again.” Everyone heads out the door, the slim man, who seems to be the leader, is in front, but quickly falls behind to introduce himself to me as “Big Mike.” Apparently, he’s the skinner for this ranch. Oscar and Charlie are chatting amicably, Eddie following close behind like a puppy. Burn is behind us, and bringing up the rear is Jimmy, kicking dust into the air.
Dinner, like Charlie said it would be, is good, and I am surprised that Charlie, Oscar, Big Mike and Eddie are all quite friendly. Burn doesn’t talk to anyone, until Oscar tries to strike up a conversation with him, and to my, and Charlie's astonishment, he responds, also a little surprised to be talked to. “He only got here a few days ago, I didn’t think he would talk to anyone. Seemed so surly all the time. Oscar has a way with people though, always seems to bring out the best in ‘em.” Charlie whispers to me. Eventually, all of us except Jimmy, still sulking, are chatting away, like we’d know each other for years.
After dinner, we go back to the bunk house. We talk and play cards until everyone falls asleep.
The next day, however, is back to work. I’m on barley bucking duty with Eddie and Jimmy.
It starts out fine, at first. It’s the same as all the other ranches I’ve worked at, well, other than the people, or, should I say, most of the people. While Eddie and the other men are good company, Jimmy is, to put it lightly, not.
“Hey, watch it big guy!” Jimmy’s shrill voice jolts me out of my thoughts. Eddie has just accidentally stepped on Jimmy’s toes, the second time this has happened in the last hour. “I’m beginnin’ to think that you’re doin’ this on purpose, punk.” Jimmy continues, shoving Eddie. Not that it does much, as Eddie is a good foot taller. This though, only seems to make Jimmy angrier. “No retort, huh? No nuthin’ eh, wiseguy!”
Eddie sighs, as if he is used to this, and responds slowly, as if talking to a young child. “I did not mean t’ do that on purpose, I’m sorry, Jimmy.”
“Oh yea, and y’ didn’t mean t’ trip me yesterday, or flirt with my wife!?”
“Flirt with yer wife?” Eddie cuts in, confused. “Yea, you was chattin’ and flirtin’ with her, my wife!”
“No, I wasn’t!” Eddie protests. “And she has a name y’ know. Irene. No-one else at the ranch knows it though. She’s jus’ lonely, ‘cause no-one but you talks to her, and you barely do that.”
“That’s it! Yer just some nut tha’ everyone feels bad enough for t’ give y’ a job! Y’ should be locked up somewhere, but everyone takes care of you, dragin’ themselves down!” Jimmy screams, starting to hit Eddie. “Stop, stop! ’S not true. Stop yellin’! This, however, only encourages Jimmy, and he yells louder, still hitting Eddie. “Yer jus’ crazy! Crazy, Crazy Eddie, just scared of a little noise!”
“STOP!!!” Eddie bellows, batting Jimmy’s fist away. In his panic, however, he hits Jimmy in the face, rendering him unconscious.
I don’t know what happens next, I am just running fast away. Away from my life and problems and Jimmy an’ Eddie and this ranch, and everyone always pickin’ on people who are different and Lennie and Lennie and Lennie, and maybe that’s what it’s about. I just tried to go on like everything was normal, but it wasn’t, because I killed my friend, my only friend, my best friend . Because society couldn’t— no, wouldn’t accept or help him!
By the time I stop to breathe I realise two things: one, that I am crying, big tears roll down my cheeks unchecked, and two, that I have no earthly idea where I am. I do, however, hear a river. I decide to follow it.
I don’t have to walk far, only through a small grove of trees until I find the river. It’s peaceful, a few willow trees hang out over the water, some of their branches trailing like hands in the water. The stream babbles cheerfully but slowly and I think to myself that it’s the kind of place that Len—No. …Yes. I can’t just pretend he didn’t exist. It’s the kind of place that Lennie would have liked, a bit like the old river we passed back in Salinas valley, and the afternoon sun glints off the water like gold, —wait, no, that is gold! So much gold! I could buy the ranch with this! Or, I could help. I could help people like Lennie, people who society will just leave to rot, maybe I could even prevent someone’s death!
It’s ten years to the day that I found the life changing gold and “Lennie’s ranch” is in full bloom. It’s a place where anyone can rest and live for as long as they need to get back on their feet. Irene, after ditching that meathead Jimmy, Oscar, Charlie, Burn, I, and, by some stroke of fortune, Candy all help out with keeping the place clean and hospitable. A mixture of the money from finding the gold, donations and, of course, the 10¢ petting zoo keeps the place running smoothly. I sit back in my rocking chair after a day of helping people and relax.