jg.paintedhouse-第21部分

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　　　When　Ricky　was　mentioned　in　prayer　in　our　church；　an　unfortable　event　that　happened　all　the　time；　Mrs。　Dockery　was　quick　to　jump　forward　and　remind　the　congregation　that　she；　too；　had　family　in　the　war。　She'd　corner　Gran　and　would　whisper　gravely　about　the　burden　of　waiting　for　news　from　the　front。　Pappy　talked　to　no　one　about　the　war；　and　he　had　rebuked　Mrs。　Dockery　after　one　of　her　early　attempts　to　miserate　with　him。　As　a　family；　we　simply　tried　to　ignore　what　was　happening　in　Korea；　at　least　in　public。
　　　Months　earlier；　during　one　of　her　frequent　plays　for　sympathy；　someone　had　asked　Mrs。　Dockery　if　she　had　a　photo　of　her　nephew。
　　　As　a　church；　we'd　been　praying　for　him　so　much；　somebody　wanted　to　see　him。　She'd　been　humiliated　when　she　couldn't　produce　one。
　　　When　he　was　first　shipped　off；　his　name　had　been　Jimmy　Nance；　and　he　was　a　nephew　of　her　fourth　cousin…her　〃very　close　cousin。〃　As　the　war　progressed；　he　became　Timmy　Nance；　and　he　also　became　not　just　a　nephew；　but　a　genuine　cousin　himself；　something　of　the　second　or　third　degree。　We　couldn't　keep　it　straight。　Though　she　preferred　the　name　Timmy；　occasionally　Jimmy　would　sneak　back　into　the　conversation。
　　　Whatever　his　real　name；　he'd　been　killed。　We　heard　the　news　in　church　that　Sunday　before　we　could　get　out　of　the　truck。
　　　They　had　her　in　the　fellowship　hall；　surrounded　by　ladies　from　her　Sunday　school　class；　all　of　them　bawling　and　carrying　on。　I　watched　from　a　distance　while　Gran　and　my　mother　waited　in　line　to　fort　her；　and　I　truly　felt　sorry　for　Mrs。　Dockery。　However　thick　or　thin　the　kinship；　the　woman　was　in　great　agony。
　　　Details　were　discussed　in　whispers：　He'd　been　driving　a　jeep　for　his　mander　when　they　hit　a　land　mine。　The　body　wouldn't　be　home　for　two　months；　or　maybe　never。　He　was　twenty　years　old　and　had　a　young　wife　at　home；　up　in　Kennett；　Missouri。
　　　While　all　this　conversation　was　going　on；　the　Reverend　Akers　entered　the　room　and　sat　beside　Mrs。　Dockery。　He　held　her　hand；　and　they　prayed　long　and　hard　and　silently。　The　entire　church　was　there；　watching　her；　waiting　to　offer　sympathies。
　　　After　a　few　minutes；　I　saw　Pappy　ease　out　of　the　door。
　　　So　this　is　what　it　will　look　like；　I　thought；　if　our　worst　fears　e　true：　From　the　other　side　of　the　world；　they　will　send　the　news　that　he's　dead。　Then　friends　will　gather　around　us；　and　everybody　will　cry。
　　　My　throat　suddenly　ached　and　my　eyes　were　beginning　to　moisten。　I　said　to　myself；　〃This　cannot　happen　to　us。　Ricky　doesn't　drive　a　jeep　over　there；　and　if　he　did；　he'd　have　better　sense　than　to　run　over　a　　land　mine。　Surely；　he's　ing　home。〃
　　　I　wasn't　about　to　get　caught　crying；　so　I　sneaked　out　of　the　building　just　in　time　to　see　Pappy　get　in　his　truck；　where　I　joined　him。　We　sat　and　stared　through　the　windshield　for　a　long　time；　then　without　a　word；　he　started　the　engine；　and　we　left。
　　　We　drove　past　the　gin。　Though　it　was　silent　on　Sunday　mornings；　every　farmer　secretly　wanted　it　roaring　at　full　throttle。　It　operated　for　only　three　months　out　of　the　year。
　　　We　left　town　with　no　particular　destination　in　mind；　at　least　I　couldn't　determine　one。　We　stayed　on　the　back　roads；　graveled　and　dusty　with　the　rows　of　cotton　just　a　few　feet　off　the　shoulders。
　　　His　first　words　were；　〃That's　where　the　Siscos　live。〃　He　nodded　to　his　left；　unwilling　to　take　a　hand　off　the　wheel。　In　the　distance；　just　barely　visible　over　the　acres　of　cotton　stalks；　was　a　typical　sharecropper's　house。　The　rusted　tin　roof　sagged；　the　porch　sloped；　the　yard　was　dirt；　and　the　cotton　grew　almost　to　the　clothesline。　I　didn't　see　anyone　moving　around；　and　that　was　a　relief。　Knowing　Pappy；　he　might　get　the　sudden　urge　to　pull　up　in　the　front　yard　and　start　a　brawl。
　　　We　kept　going　slowly　through　the　endlessly　flat　cotton　fields。　I　was　skipping　Sunday　school；　an　almost　unbelievable　treat。　My　mother　wouldn't　like　it；　but　she　wouldn't　argue　with　Pappy。　It　was　my　mother　who　had　told　me　that　he　and　Gran　reached　out　for　me　when　they　were　most　worried　about　Ricky。
　　　He　spotted　something；　and　we　slowed　almost　to　a　stop。　〃That's　the　Embry　place；〃　he　said；　nodding　again。　〃You　see　them　Mexicans？〃　I　stretched　and　strained　and　finally　saw　them；　four　or　five　straw　hats　deep　in　the　sea　of　white；　bending　low　as　if　they　had　heard　us　and　were　hiding。
　　　〃They're　pickin'　on　Sunday？〃　I　said。
　　　〃Yep。〃
　　　We　gained　speed；　and　finally；　they　were　out　of　sight。　〃What're　you　gonna　do？〃　I　asked；　as　if　the　law　were　being　broken。
　　　〃Nothin'。　That's　Embry's　business。〃
　　　Mr。　Embry　was　a　member　of　our　church。　I　couldn't　imagine　him　allowing　his　fields　to　be　worked　on　the　Sabbath。　〃Reckon　he　knows　about　it？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃Maybe　he　doesn't。　I　guess　it'd　be　easy　for　the　Mexicans　to　sneak　out　there　after　he　left　for　church。〃　Pappy　said　this　without　much　conviction。
　　　〃But　they　can't　weigh　their　own　cotton；〃　I　said；　and　Pappy　actually　smiled。
　　　〃No；　I　guess　not；〃　he　said。　So　it　was　determined　that　Mr。　Embry　allowed　his　Mexicans　to　pick　on　Sunday。　There　were　rumors　of　this　every　fall；　but　I　couldn't　imagine　a　fine　deacon　like　Mr。　Embry　taking　part　in　such　a　low　sin。　I　was　shocked；　Pappy　was　not。
　　　Those　poor　Mexicans。　Haul　'em　like　cattle；　work　'em　like　dogs；　and　their　one　day　of　rest　was　taken　away　while　the　owner　hid　in　church。
　　　〃Let's　keep　quiet　about　this；〃　Pappy　said；　smug　that　he'd　confirmed　a　rumor。
　　　More　secrets。
　　　
　　　We　heard　the　congregation　singing　as　we　walked　toward　the　church。　I'd　never　been　on　the　outside　when　I　wasn't　supposed　to　be。　〃Ten　minutes　late；〃　Pappy　mumbled　to　himself　as　he　opened　the　door。　They　were　standing　and　singing；　and　we　were　able　to　slide　into　our　seats　without　much　motion。　I　glanced　at　my　parents；　but　they　were　ignoring　me。　When　the　song　was　over；　we　sat　down；　and　I　found　myself　sitting　snugly　between　my　grandparents。　Ricky　might　be　in　danger；　but　I　would　certainly　be　protected。
　　　The　Reverend　Akers　knew　better　than　to　touch　on　the　subjects　of　war　and　death。　He　began　by　delivering　the　solemn　news　about　Timmy　Nance；　news　everyone　had　already　heard。　Mrs。　Dockery　had　been　taken　home　to　recover。　Meals　were　being　planned　by　her　Sunday　school　class。　It　was　time；　he　said；　for　the　church　to　close　ranks　and　fort　one　of　its　own。
　　　It　would　be　Mrs。　Dockery's　finest　hour；　and　we　all　knew　it。
　　　If　he　dwelt　on　war；　he'd　have　to　deal　with　Pappy　when　the　service　was　over；　so　he　stuck　to　his　prepared　message。　We　Baptists　took　great　pride　in　sending　missionaries　all　over　the　world；　and　the　entire　denomination　was　in　the　middle　of　a　great　campaign　to　raise　money　for　their　support。　That's　what　Brother　Akers　talked　about…giving　more　money　so　we　could　send　more　of　our　people　to　places　like　India；　Korea；　Africa；　and　China。　Jesus　taught　that　we　should　love　all　people；　regardless　of　their　differences。　And　it　was　up　to　us　as　Baptists　to　convert　the　rest　of　the　world。
　　　I　decided　I　wouldn't　give　an　extra　dime。
　　　I'd　been　taught　to　tithe　one　tenth　of　my　earnings；　and　I　did　so　grudgingly。　It　was　there　in　the　Scriptures；　though；　and　hard　to　argue　with。　But　Brother　Akers　was　asking　for　something　above　and　beyond；　something　optional；　and　he　was　flat　out　of　luck　as　far　as　I　was　concerned。　None　of　my　money　was　going　to　Korea。　I'm　sure　the　rest　of　the　Chandlers　felt　the　same　way。　Probably　the　entire　church。
　　　He　was　subdued　that　morning。　He　was　preaching　on　love　and　charity；　not　sin　and　death；　and　I　don't　think　his　heart　was　in　it。　With　things　quieter　than　usual；　I　began　to　nod　off。
　　　After　the　service；　we　were　in　no　mood　for　small　talk。　The　adults　went　straight　to　the　truck；　and　we　left　in　a　hurry。　On　the　edge　of　town；　my　father　asked；　〃Where　did　you　and　Pappy　go？〃
　　　〃Just　drivin'　around；〃　I　said。
　　　〃Whereto？〃
　　　I　pointed　to　the　east　and　said；　〃Over　there。　Nowhere；　really。　I　think　he　just　wanted　to　get　away　from　church。〃　He　nodded　as　if　he　wished　he'd　gone　with　us。
　　　
　　　As　we　were　finishing　Sunday　dinner；　there　was　a　slight　knock　at　the　back　door。　My　father　was　the　closest　to　it；　so　he　stepped　onto　the　back　porch　and　found　Miguel　and　Cowboy。
　　　〃Mother；　you're　needed；〃　he　said；　and　Gran　hurried　out　of　the　kitchen。　The　rest　of　us　followed。
　　　Cowboy's　shirt　was　off；　the　left　side　of　his　chest　was　swollen　and　looked　awful。　He　could　barely　raise　his　left　arm；　and　when　Gran　made　him　do　it；　he　grimaced。　I　felt　sorry　for　him。　There　was　a　small　flesh　wound　where　the　baseball　had　struck。　〃I　can　count　the　seams；〃　Gran　said。
　　　My　mother　brought　a　pan　of　water　and　a　cloth。　After　a　few　minutes；　Pappy　and　my　father　grew　bored　and　left。　I'm　sure　they　were　worrying　about　how　an　injured　Mexican　might　affect　production。
　　　Gran　was　happiest　when　she　was　playing　doctor；　and　Cowboy　got　the　full　treatment。　After　she　dressed　the　wound；　she　made　him　lie　on　the　back　porch；　his　head　on　a　pillow　from　our　sofa。
　　　〃He's　got　to　be　still；〃　she　said　to　Miguel。
　　　〃How　much　pain？〃　she　asked。
　　　〃Not　much；〃　Cowboy　said；　shaking　his　head。　His　English　surprised　us。
　　　〃I　wonder　if　I　should　give　him　a　painkiller；〃　she　mused　in　the　direction　of　my　mother。
　　　Gran's　painkillers　were　worse　than　any　broken　bone；　and　I　gave　Cowboy　a　horrified　look。　He　read　me　perfectly　and　said；　〃No；　no　medicine。〃　She　put　ice　from　the　kitchen　into　a　small　burlap　bag　and　gently　placed　it　on　his　swollen　ribs。　〃Hold　it　there；〃　she　said；　putting　his　left　arm　over　the　bag。　When　the　ice　touched　him；　his　entire　body　went　rigid；　but　he　relaxed　as　the　numbness　set　in。　Within　seconds；　water　was　running　down　his　skin　and　dripping　onto　the　porch。　He　closed　his　eyes　and　breathed　deeply。
　　　〃Thank　you；〃　Miguel　said。
　　　〃Gracias；〃　I　said；　and　Miguel　smiled　at　me。
　　　We　left　them　there；　and　gathered　on　the　front　porch　for　a　glass　of　iced　tea。
　　　〃His　ribs　are　broken；〃　Gran　said　to　Pappy；　who　was　on　the　porch　swing；　digesting　his　dinner。　He　really　didn't　want　to　say　anything；　but　after　a　few　seconds　of　silence　he　grunted　and　said；　〃That's　too　bad。〃
　　　〃He　needs　to　see　a　doctor。〃
　　　〃What's　a　doctor　gonna　do？〃
　　　〃Maybe　there's　internal　bleeding。〃
　　　〃Maybe　there　ain't。〃
　　　〃It　could　be　dangerous。〃
　　　〃If　he　was　bleedin'　inside；　he'd　be　dead　by　now；　wouldn't　he？〃
　　　〃Sure　he　would；〃　my　father　added。
　　　Two　things　were　happening　here。　First　and　foremost；　the　men　were　terrified　of　having　to　pay　a　doctor。　Second；　and　almost　as　significant；　both　had　fought　in　the　trenches。　They　had　seen　stray　body　parts；　mangled　corpses；　men　with　limbs　missing；　and　they　had　no　patience　with　the　small　stuff。　Routine　cuts　and　breaks　were　hazards　of　life。　Tough　it　out。
　　　Gran　knew　she　would　not　prevail。　〃If　he　dies；　it'll　be　our　fault。〃
　　　〃He　ain't　gonna　die；　Ruth；〃　Pappy　said。　〃And　even　if　he　does；　it　won't　be　our　fault。　Hank's　the　one　who　broke　his　ribs。〃
　　　My　mother　left　and　went　inside。　She　was　not　feeling　well　again；　and　I　was　beginning　to　worry　about　her。　Talk　shifted　to　the　cotton；　and　I　left　the　porch。
　　　I　crept　around　back；　where　Miguel　was　sitting　not　far　from　Cowboy。　Both　appeared　to　be　sleeping。　I　sneaked　into　the　house　and　went　to　check　on　my　mother。　She　was　lying　on　her　bed；　her　eyes　open。　〃Are　you　okay；　Mom？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃Yes；　of　course；　Luke。　Don't　worry　about　me。〃
　　　She　would've　said　that　no　matter　how　bad　she　felt。　I　leaned　on　the　edge　of　her　bed　for　a　few