A few miles south of St. Helena the rows of grapevines stretched as far as the eye could see. Bundles of deep purple grapes hung heavy on the vines. It was harvest time in the Napa Valley. A warm August morning dawned and George was preparing for another day of labor. For the last two years he had worked on this winery and had saved enough money that he soon planned to buy a piece of land where he would grow his own grapes.
For three years after the death of Lennie, George had tramped through California. He picked cotton near Fresno, milked cows at a dairy near Santa Maria and worked sugar beets for Spreckels in Salinas. He would work a week and take his pay. Then he might sit in a poolroom, drink some whiskey and, every once in a while, spend the night in a cathouse. For about a year Slim had traveled with him until the skinner had found a permanent job on a horse ranch in the Santa Ynez Valley.
"Hey George!" came a voice from behind a shed near the first row of Cabernet grapes. "Hi'ya Earl, ready for a hard day's work? We got plenty of grapes to bring in," returned George.
"Sure," said Earl. "But I wish that fella you was tellin' me about yesterday was still alive. We could use a strong guy like that to do some of this work."
For five years George had not spoken about Lennie and the events that took place all those years before on the ranch near Soledad. When he finally opened up to Earl the night before, he described Lennie in almost mythical terms. The big man could outwork any two men and could easily lift a four hundred pound bale of barley without breaking a sweat. He told Earl about the fight in the bunkhouse and how much Curley deserved to have his hand crushed by Lennie after picking a fight with the big man.
He went on to explain that Curley's wife must have done something to set Lennie off and that the girl was a tart. Lennie never would have done anything out of sheer meanness. It wasn't Lennie's fault that he often didn't know his own strength.
George also described the scene near the Salinas River where he had to shoot Lennie. George had taken a gun from the ranch. He remembered the words of Candy who regretted that he had let a stranger kill his dog. George decided he would not let someone else kill Lennie. Tears came to his eyes as he talked about putting the gun to the back of Lennie's head. His consolation was that Lennie never suffered. The shot was clean and Lennie never even quivered.
"It sounds to me like you had to do it George," said Earl. "Nothin' else you coulda' done. Slim was right. You shouldn't feel guilty."
Earl's words soothed George and he thought to himself that once he did get that piece of land he would probably raise a few rabbits in memory of his best friend.
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