jg.paintedhouse-第36部分

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ier　matters。　He　cleared　his　throat　and　said；　〃I　bumped　into　Lou　Jeffcoat　last　Saturday…I　forgot　to　tell　you。　He　said　the　Methodists　have　a　new　pitcher　for　Sunday's　game。〃
　　　Pappy　had　cooled　off　enough　to　say；　〃He's　lyin'。　That's　what　they　say　every　year。〃
　　　〃Why　would　they　need　a　new　pitcher？〃　Gran　asked　with　a　faint　smile；　and　I　thought　my　mother　was　going　to　laugh。
　　　Sunday　was　the　Fall　Picnic；　a　glorious　event　that　engulfed　Black　Oak。　After　worship；　usually　a　very　long　worship；　at　least　for　us　Baptists；　we　would　meet　at　the　school；　where　the　Methodists　would　be　gathering。　Under　the　shade　trees　the　ladies　would　set　up　enough　food　to　feed　the　entire　state；　and　after　a　long　lunch　the　men　would　play　a　baseball　game。
　　　It　was　no　ordinary　game；　because　bragging　rights　were　at　stake。　The　winners　ribbed　the　losers　for　an　entire　year。　In　the　dead　of　winter　I　had　heard　men　at　the　Tea　Shoppe　ride　each　other　about　The　Game。
　　　The　Methodists　had　won　it　for　the　last　four　years；　yet　they　always　started　rumors　about　having　a　new　pitcher。
　　　〃Who's　pitchin'　for　us？〃　my　father　asked。　Pappy　coached　the　Baptist　team　every　year；　though　after　four　straight　losses；　folks　were　beginning　to　grumble。
　　　〃Ridley；　I　guess；〃　Pappy　said　without　hesitation。　He'd　been　thinking　about　the　game　for　a　year。
　　　〃I　can　hit　Ridley！〃　I　said。
　　　〃You　got　a　better　idea？〃　Pappy　shot　at　me。
　　　〃Yes　sir。〃
　　　〃Well；　I　can't　wait　to　hear　it。〃
　　　〃Pitch　Cowboy；〃　I　said；　and　everybody　smiled。　What　a　wonderful　idea。
　　　But　the　Mexicans　couldn't　play　in　The　Game；　nor　could　the　hill　people。　Each　roster　was　made　up　of　certified　church　members　onlyno　farm　laborers；　no　relatives　from　Jonesboro；　no　ringers　of　any　variety。　There　were　so　many　rules　that　if　they'd　been　put　down　in　writing；　the　rule　book　would've　been　thicker　than　the　Bible。　The　umpires　were　brought　in　from　Monette　and　were　paid　five　dollars　a　game　plus　all　the　lunch　they　could　eat。　Supposedly；　no　one　knew　the　umpires；　but　after　last　year's　loss　there　were　rumors；　at　least　around　our　church；　that　they　were　either　Methodists　or　married　to　Methodists。
　　　〃That　would　be　nice；　wouldn't　it？〃　my　father　said；　dreaming　of　Cowboy　mowing　down　our　rivals。　One　strikeout　after　another。　Curve…balls　dropping　in　from　all　directions。
　　　With　the　conversation　back　in　pleasant　territory；　the　women　took　over。　Baseball　was　pushed　aside　as　they　talked　about　the　picnic；　the　food；　what　the　Methodist　women　would　be　wearing；　and　so　on。　Supper　came　to　the　usual　quiet　close；　and　we　headed　for　the　porch。
　　　
　　　I　had　decided　that　I　would　write　Ricky　a　letter　and　tell　him　about　Libby　Latcher。　I　was　certain　that　none　of　the　adults　would　do　so；　they　were　too　busy　burying　the　secret。　But　Ricky　needed　to　know　what　Libby　had　accused　him　of。　He　needed　to　respond　in　some　way。　If　he　knew　what　was　happening；　then　maybe　he　could　get　himself　sent　home　to　deal　with　the　situation。　And　the　sooner　the　better。　The　Latchers　were　staying　to　themselves；　telling　no　one；　as　far　as　we　knew；　but　secrets　were　hard　to　keep　around　Black　Oak。
　　　Before　Ricky　left　for　Korea；　he'd　told　us　the　story　of　a　friend　of　his；　a　guy　from　Texas　he'd　met　in　boot　camp。　This　guy　was　only　eighteen；　but　he　was　already　married；　and　his　wife　was　pregnant。　The　army　sent　him　to　California　to　shuffle　papers　for　a　few　months　so　he　wouldn't　get　shot。　It　was　a　hardship　case　of　some　variety；　and　the　guy　would　be　back　in　Texas　before　his　wife　gave　birth。
　　　Ricky　now　had　a　hardship；　he　just　didn't　know　it。　I　would　be　the　one　to　tell　him。　I　excused　myself　from　the　porch　under　the　pretense　of　fatigue　and　went　to　Ricky's　room；　where　I　kept　my　Big　Chief　writing　tablet。　I　took　it　to　the　kitchen　table…the　light　was　better　thereand　began　writing　slowly　in　large　printed　letters。
　　　I　dwelt　briefly　on　baseball；　the　pennant　race；　then　the　carnival　and　Samson；　and　I　wrote　a　couple　of　sentences　about　the　twisters　earlier　in　the　week。　I　had　neither　the　time　nor　the　stomach　to　talk　about　Hank；　so　I　got　to　the　meat　of　the　story。　I　told　him　that　Libby　Latcher　had　had　a　baby；　though　I　did　not　confess　that　I　had　actually　been　nearby　when　the　thing　arrived。
　　　My　mother　wandered　in　from　the　porch　and　asked　what　I　was　doing。　〃Writin'　Ricky；〃　I　said。
　　　〃How　nice；〃　she　said。　〃You　need　to　go　to　bed。〃
　　　〃Yes　ma'am。〃　I　had　written　a　full　page　and　was　quite　proud　of　myself。　Tomorrow　I　would　write　another　page。　Then　maybe　another。　I　was　determined　that　it　would　be　the　longest　letter　Ricky　had　so　far　received。
　
　
　Chapter　22
　　　
　　　I　was　nearing　the　end　of　a　long　row　of　cotton；　close　to　the　thicket　that　bordered　Siler's　Creek；　when　I　heard　voices。　The　stalks　were　especially　tall；　and　I　was　lost　amid　the　dense　foliage。　My　sack　was　half…full；　and　I　was　dreaming　of　the　afternoon　in　town；　of　a　movie　at　the　Dixie　with　a　Coca…Cola　and　popcorn。　The　sun　was　almost　overhead；　it　had　to　be　approaching　noon。　I　planned　to　make　the　turn　and　then　head　back　to　the　trailer；　working　hard　and　finishing　the　day　with　a　flourish。
　　　When　I　heard　people　talking；　I　dropped　to　one　knee；　and　then　I　slowly　sat　on　the　ground　without　making　another　sound。　For　a　long　time　I　heard　nothing　at　all；　and　I　was　beginning　to　think　that　maybe　I　had　been　wrong；　when　the　voice　of　a　girl　barely　made　it　through　the　stalks　to　where　I　was　hiding。　She　was　somewhere　to　my　right；　I　couldn't　tell　how　far　away。
　　　I　slowly　stood　and　peeked　through　the　cotton　but　saw　nothing。　Then　I　crouched　again　and　began　creeping　down　the　row　toward　the　end；　my　cotton　sack　abandoned　for　the　moment。　Silently；　I　crawled　and　stopped；　crawled　and　stopped；　until　I　heard　her　again。　She　was　several　rows　over；　hiding；　I　thought；　in　the　cotton。　I　froze　for　a　few　minutes　until　I　heard　her　laugh；　a　soft　laugh　that　was　muffled　by　the　cotton；　and　I　knew　it　was　Tally。
　　　For　a　long　time　I　rocked　gently　on　all　fours　and　tried　to　imagine　what　she　was　doing　hiding　in　the　fields；　as　far　away　from　the　cotton　trailer　as　possible。　Then　I　heard　another　voice；　that　of　a　man。　I　decided　to　move　in　closer。
　　　I　found　the　widest　gap　between　two　stalks　and　cut　through　the　first　row　without　a　sound。　There　was　no　wind　to　rustle　the　leaves　and　bolls；　so　I　had　to　be　perfectly　still。　And　patient。　Then　I　made　it　through　the　second　row　and　waited　for　the　voices。
　　　They　were　quiet　for　a　long　time；　and　I　began　to　worry　that　maybe　they'd　heard　me。　Then　there　was　giggling；　both　voices　working　at　once；　and　low；　hushed　conversation　that　I　could　barely　hear。　I　stretched　out　flat　on　my　stomach　and　surveyed　the　situation　from　the　ground；　down　where　the　stalks　were　thickest　and　there　were　no　bolls　and　leaves。　I　could　almost　see　something　several　rows　away；　maybe　the　darkness　of　Tally's　hair；　maybe　not。　I　decided　I　was　close　enough。
　　　There　was　no　one　nearby。　The　others…the　Spruills　and　the　Chandlers…were　working　their　way　back　to　the　trailer。　The　Mexicans　were　far　away；　nothing　visible　but　their　straw　hats。
　　　Though　shaded；　I　was　sweating　profusely。　My　heart　was　racing；　my　mouth　dry。　Tally　was　hiding　deep　in　the　cotton　with　a　man；　doing　something　bad；　or　if　not；　then　why　was　she　hiding？　I　wanted　to　do　something　to　stop　them；　but　I　had　no　right。　I　was　just　a　little　kid；　a　spy　who　was　trespassing　on　their　business。　I　thought　about　retreating；　but　the　voices　held　me。
　　　The　snake　was　a　water　moccasin；　a　cottonmouth；　one　of　many　in　our　part　of　Arkansas。　They　lived　around　the　creeks　and　rivers　and　occasionally　ventured　inland　to　sun　or　to　feed。　Each　spring　when　we　planted；　it　was　mon　to　see　them　ground　up　behind　our　disks　and　plows。　They　were　short；　black；　thick；　aggressive；　and　filled　with　venom。　Their　bites　were　rarely　fatal；　but　I'd　heard　many　tall　tales　of　horrible　deaths。
　　　If　you　saw　one；　you　simply　killed　it　with　a　stick　or　a　hoe　or　anything　you　could　grab。　They　weren't　as　quick　as　rattlers；　nor　did　they　have　the　striking　range；　but　they　were　mean　and　nasty。
　　　This　one　was　crawling　down　the　row　directly　at　me；　less　than　five　feet　away。　We　were　eyeball…to…eyeball。　I'd　been　so　occupied　with　Tally　and　whatever　she　was　doing　that　I'd　forgotten　everything　else。　I　uttered　something　in　horror　and　bolted　upright；　then　I　ran　through　a　row　of　cotton；　then　another。
　　　A　man　said　something　in　a　louder　voice；　but　for　the　moment　I　was　more　concerned　with　the　snake。　I　hit　the　ground　near　my　cotton　sack；　strapped　it　over　my　shoulder；　and　began　crawling　toward　the　trailer。　When　I　was　certain　the　cottonmouth　was　far　away；　I　stopped　and　listened。　Nothing。　plete　silence。　No　one　was　chasing　me。
　　　Slowly；　I　stood　and　peeked　through　the　cotton。　To　my　right；　several　rows　away　and　already　with　her　back　to　me；　was　Tally；　her　cotton　sack　strapped　over　her　shoulder　and　her　straw　hat　cocked　to　one　side；　steadily　making　her　way　along　as　if　nothing　had　happened。
　　　And　to　my　left；　cutting　low　through　the　cotton　and　escaping　like　a　thief；　was　Cowboy。
　　　
　　　On　most　Saturday　afternoons　Pappy　could　find　some　reason　to　delay　our　trip　to　town。　We'd　finish　lunch；　and　I'd　suffer　the　indignity　of　the　bath；　then　he'd　find　something　to　do　because　he　was　determined　to　make　us　wait。　The　tractor　had　some　ailment　that　suddenly　needed　his　attention。　He'd　crawl　around　with　his　old　wrenches；　making　a　fuss　about　how　it　had　to　be　repaired　right　then　so　he　could　buy　the　necessary　parts　in　town。　Or　the　truck　wasn't　running　just　right；　and　Saturday　after　lunch　was　the　perfect　time　to　poke　around　the　engine。　Or　the　water　pump　needed　his　attention。　Sometimes　he　sat　at　the　kitchen　table　and　attended　to　the　small　amount　of　paperwork　it　took　to　run　the　farming　operation。
　　　Finally；　when　everyone　was　good　and　mad；　he'd　take　a　long　bath；　and　then　we'd　head　to　town。
　　　My　mother　was　anxious　to　see　the　newest　member　of　Craighead　County；　even　though　he　was　a　Latcher；　so　while　Pappy　piddled　in　the　tool　shed；　we　loaded　four　boxes　of　vegetables　and　headed　across　the　river。　My　father　somehow　avoided　the　trip。　The　baby's　alleged　father　was　his　brother；　and　that；　of　course；　made　my　father　the　baby's　alleged　uncle；　and　that　was　something　my　father　simply　wasn't　ready　to　accept。　And　I　was　sure　he　had　no　interest　in　another　encounter　with　Mr。　Latcher。
　　　My　mother　drove；　and　I　prayed；　and　we　somehow　made　it　safely　over　the　bridge。　We　rolled　to　a　stop　on　the　other　side　of　the　river。　The　truck　stalled；　and　the　engine　died。　As　she　was　taking　a　deep　breath；　I　decided　to　say；　〃Mom；　there's　somethin'　I　need　to　tell　you。〃
　　　〃Can　it　wait？〃　she　asked；　reaching　for　the　ignition。
　　　〃No。〃
　　　We　were　sitting　in　a　hot　truck；　just　off　the　bridge；　on　a　one…lane　dirt　road　without　a　house　or　another　vehicle　in　sight。　It　struck　me　as　the　perfect　place　and　time　for　an　important　conversation。
　　　〃What　is　it？〃　she　said；　folding　her　arms　across　her　chest　as　if　she'd　already　decided　I'd　done　something　terrible。
　　　There　were　so　many　secrets。　Hank　and　the　Sisco　beating。　Tally　at　the　creek。　The　birth　of　Libby's　baby。　But　those　had　been　tucked　away　for　a　while。　I'd　bee　adept　at　keeping　them　private。　The　current　one；　though；　had　to　be　shared　with　my　mother。
　　　〃I　think　Tally　and　Cowboy　like　each　other；〃　I　said；　and　immediately　I　felt　lighter。
　　　〃Is　that　so？〃　she　said　with　a　smile；　as　if　I　didn't　know　much　because　I　was　just　a　kid。　Then　the　smile　slowly　vanished　as　she　conside