jg.paintedhouse-第51部分

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　　　〃When　did　it　start？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃I　reckon　an　hour　ago。　Don't　know　for　sure。〃
　　　I　wanted　to　ask　when　it　would　stop；　but　I　already　knew　the　answer。
　　　〃It's　backwater；〃　he　said。　〃The　St。　Francis　is　too　full；　there's　no　place　for　it　to　go。〃
　　　We　watched　it　for　a　long　time。　It　poured　forth　and　came　toward　us；　rising　a　few　inches　on　the　front　tires。　After　a　while　I　was　anxious　to　head　back。　Pappy；　however；　was　not。　His　worries　and　fears　were　being　confirmed；　and　he　was　mesmerized　by　what　he　was　seeing。
　　　In　late　March；　he　and　my　father　had　begun　plowing　the　fields；　turning　over　the　soil；　burying　the　stalks　and　roots　and　leaves　from　the　previous　crop。　They　were　happy　then；　pleased　to　be　outdoors　after　a　long　hibernation。　They　watched　the　weather　and　studied　the　almanac；　and　they　had　begun　hanging　around　the　Co…op　to　hear　what　the　other　farmers　were　saying。　They　planted　in　early　May　if　the　weather　was　right。　May　15　was　an　absolute　deadline　for　putting　the　cotton　seeds　in　the　ground。　My　contribution　to　the　operation　began　in　early　June；　when　school　was　out　and　weeds　began　sprouting。　They　gave　me　a　hoe；　pointed　me　in　the　right　direction；　and　for　many　hours　a　day　I　chopped　cotton；　a　task　almost　as　hard　and　mind…numbing　as　picking　the　stuff。　All　summer　as　the　cotton　and　the　weeds　around　it　grew；　we　chopped。　If　the　cotton　bloomed　by　July　4；　then　it　was　going　to　be　a　bumper　crop。　By　late　August　we　were　ready　to　pick。　By　early　September　we　were　searching　for　hill　people　and　trying　to　line　up　some　Mexicans。
　　　And　now；　in　mid…October；　we　were　watching　it　get　swept　away。　All　the　labor；　the　sweat　and　sore　muscles；　all　the　money　invested　in　seed　and　fertilizer　and　fuel；　all　the　hopes　and　plans；　everything　was　now　being　lost　to　the　backwaters　of　the　St。　Francis　River。
　　　We　waited；　but　the　flood　did　not　stop。　In　fact　the　front　tires　of　the　tractor　were　half…covered　with　water　when　Pappy　at　last　started　the　engine。　There　was　barely　enough　light　to　see。　The　trail　was　covered　with　water；　and　at　the　rate　the　flood　was　spreading　we'd　lose　the　lower　forty　by　sunrise。
　　　I　had　never　witnessed　such　silence　over　supper。　Not　even　Gran　could　find　anything　pleasant　to　say。　I　played　with　my　butter　beans　and　tried　to　imagine　what　my　parents　were　thinking。　My　father　was　probably　worried　about　the　crop　loan；　a　debt　that　would　now　be　impossible　to　repay。　My　mother　was　working　on　her　escape　from　the　cotton　patch。　She　was　not　nearly　as　disappointed　as　the　other　three　adults。　A　disastrous　harvest；　following　such　a　promising　spring　and　summer；　gave　her　an　arsenal　of　artillery　to　use　against　my　father。
　　　The　flood　kept　my　mind　off　heavier　matters…Hank；　Tally；　Cowboy…and　for　this　reason　it　was　not　an　unpleasant　subject　to　think　about。　But　I　said　nothing。
　　　
　　　School　would　reopen　soon；　and　my　mother　decided　I　should　begin　a　nightly　routine　of　reading　and　writing。　I　was　longing　for　the　classroom；　something　I　would　never　admit；　and　so　I　enjoyed　the　homework。　She　mented　on　how　rusty　my　cursive　writing　had　bee　and　declared　that　I　needed　a　lot　of　practice。　My　reading　wasn't　too　smooth　either。
　　　〃See　what　pickin'　cotton'll　do　to　you？〃　I　said。
　　　We　were　alone　in　Ricky's　room；　reading　to　each　other　before　I　went　to　bed。　〃I　have　a　secret　for　you；〃　she　whispered。　〃Can　you　keep　a　secret？〃
　　　If　you　only　knew；　I　thought。　〃Sure。〃
　　　〃Promise？〃
　　　〃Sure。〃
　　　〃You　can't　tell　anybody；　not　even　Pappy　and　Gran。〃
　　　〃Okay；　what　is　it？〃
　　　She　leaned　even　closer。　〃Your　father　and　I　are　thinkin'　about　goin'　up　North。〃
　　　〃What　about　me？〃
　　　〃You're　goin'；　too。〃
　　　That　was　a　relief。　〃You　mean　to　work　like　Jimmy　Dale？〃
　　　〃That's　right。　Your　father　has　talked　to　Jimmy　Dale；　and　he　can　get　him　a　job　at　the　Buick　plant　in　Flint；　Michigan。　There's　good　money　up　there。　We're　not　stayin'　forever；　but　your　father　needs　to　find　somethin'　steady。〃
　　　〃What　about　Pappy　and　Gran？〃
　　　〃Oh；　they'll　never　leave　here。〃
　　　〃Will　they　keep　farmin'？〃
　　　〃I　suppose。　Don't　know　what　else　they'd　do。〃
　　　〃How　can　they　farm　without　us？〃
　　　〃They'll　manage。　Listen；　Luke；　we　can't　sit　here　year　after　year　losin'　money　while　we　borrow　more。　Your　father　and　I　are　ready　to　try　somethin'　else。〃
　　　I　had　mixed　emotions　about　this。　I　wanted　my　parents　to　be　happy；　and　my　mother　would　never　be　content　on　a　farm；　especially　when　forced　to　live　with　her　in…laws。　I　certainly　didn't　want　to　be　a　farmer；　but　then　my　future　was　already　secure　with　the　Cardinals。　But　the　thought　of　leaving　the　only　place　I'd　ever　lived　was　unsettling。　And　I　couldn't　imagine　life　without　Pappy　and　Gran。
　　　〃It'll　be　excitin'；　Luke；〃　she　said；　her　voice　still　a　whisper。　〃Trust　me。〃
　　　〃I　guess　so。　Ain't　it　cold　up　there？〃
　　　〃Isn't；〃　she　corrected　me。　〃There's　a　lot　of　snow　in　the　wintertime；　but　I　think　that'll　be　fun。　We'll　make　a　snowman　and　snow　ice　cream；　and　we'll　have　us　a　white　Christmas。〃
　　　I　remembered　Jimmy　Dale's　stories　about　watching　the　Detroit　Tigers　play　and　how　folks　had　good　jobs　and　televisions　and　the　schools　were　better。　Then　I　remembered　his　wife；　the　rotten　Stacy　with　her　whiny　nasal　voice；　and　how　I'd　scared　her　in　the　outhouse。
　　　〃Don't　they　talk　funny　up　there？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃Yes；　but　we'll　get　used　to　it。　It'll　be　an　adventure；　Luke；　and　if　we　don't　like　it；　then　we'll　e　home。〃
　　　〃We'll　e　back　here？〃
　　　〃We'll　e　back　to　Arkansas；　or　somewhere　in　the　South。〃
　　　〃I　don't　want　to　see　Stacy。〃
　　　〃Neither　do　I。　Look；　you　go　to　bed　and　think　about　it。　Remember；　it's　our　secret。〃
　　　〃Yes　ma'am。〃
　　　She　tucked　me　in　and　turned　off　the　light。
　　　More　news　to　file　away。
　
　
　Chapter　32
　　　
　　　As　soon　as　Pappy　took　his　last　bite　of　scrambled　eggs；　he　wiped　his　mouth　and　looked　through　the　window　over　the　sink。　There　was　enough　light　to　see　what　we　wanted。　〃Let's　take　a　look；〃　he　said；　and　the　rest　of　us　followed　him　out　of　the　kitchen；　off　the　back　porch；　and　across　the　rear　yard　in　the　direction　of　the　barn。　I　was　huddled　under　a　sweater；　trying　to　keep　up　with　my　father。　The　grass　was　wet；　and　after　a　few　steps　so　were　my　boots。　We　stopped　at　the　nearest　field　and　stared　at　the　dark　tree　line　in　the　distance；　at　the　edge　of　Siler's　Creek；　almost　a　mile　away。　There　were　forty　acres　of　cotton　in　front　of　us；　half　our　land。　There　were　also　floodwaters；　we　just　didn't　know　how　much。
　　　Pappy　began　walking　between　two　rows　of　cotton；　and　soon　we　could　only　see　his　shoulders　and　straw　hat。　He　would　stop　when　he　found　the　creek's　advance。　If　he　walked　for　a　while；　then　the　creek　had　not　done　the　damage　we　feared。　Perhaps　it　was　retreating；　and　maybe　the　sun　would　e　out。　Maybe　we　could　salvage　something。
　　　At　about　sixty　feet；　the　distance　from　the　mound　to　home　plate；　he　stopped　and　looked　down。　We　couldn't　see　the　ground　or　what　was　covering　it；　but　we　knew。　The　creek　was　still　moving　toward　us。
　　　〃It's　already　here；〃　he　said　over　his　shoulder。　〃Two　inches　of　it。〃
　　　The　field　was　flooding　faster　than　the　men　had　predicted。　And　given　their　talent　for　pessimism；　this　was　no　small　feat。
　　　〃This　has　never　happened　in　October；〃　Gran　said；　wringing　her　hands　on　her　apron。
　　　Pappy　watched　the　action　around　his　feet。　We　kept　our　eyes　on　him。　The　sun　was　rising；　but　it　was　cloudy；　and　the　shadows　came　and　went。　I　heard　a　voice　and　looked　to　the　right。　The　Mexicans　had　assembled　in　a　quiet　group；　watching　us。　A　funeral　couldn't　have　been　more　somber。
　　　We　were　all　curious　about　the　water。　I'd　personally　witnessed　it　the　day　before；　but　I　was　anxious　to　see　it　creeping　through　our　fields；　inching　its　way　toward　our　house；　like　some　giant　snake　that　couldn't　be　stopped。　My　father　stepped　forward　and　walked　between　two　rows　of　cotton。　He　stopped　near　Pappy　and　put　his　hands　on　his　hips；　just　like　his　father。　Gran　and　my　mother　were　next。　I　followed；　and　not　far　away；　the　Mexicans　joined　in　as　we　fanned　out　through　the　field　in　search　of　the　floodwaters。　We　stopped　in　a　neat　line；　all　of　us　staring　at　the　thick；　brown　overflow　from　Siler's　Creek。
　　　I　broke　off　a　piece　of　stalk　and　stuck　it　in　the　ground　at　the　edge　of　the　advancing　water。　Within　a　minute；　the　stick　was　engulfed　by　the　current。
　　　We　retreated　slowly。　My　father　and　Pappy　talked　to　Miguel　and　the　Mexicans。　They　were　ready　to　leave；　either　to　go　home　or　to　another　farm　where　the　cotton　could　be　picked。　Who　could　blame　them？　I　hung　around；　just　close　enough　to　listen。　It　was　decided　that　Pappy　would　go　with　them　to　the　back　forty；　where　the　ground　was　slightly　higher；　and　there　they　would　try　to　pick　for　a　while。　The　cotton　was　wet；　but　if　the　sun　broke　through；　then　maybe　they　could　get　a　hundred　pounds　each。
　　　My　father　would　go　to　town；　for　the　second　day　in　a　row；　and　check　with　the　Co…op　to　see　if　there　was　another　farm　where　our　Mexicans　might　work。　There　was　much　better　land　in　the　northeastern　part　of　the　county；　higher　fields　away　from　creeks　and　away　from　the　St。　Francis。　And　there　had　been　rumors　that　the　folks　up　near　Monette　had　not　received　as　much　rain　as　those　of　us　in　the　southern　end　of　the　county。
　　　I　was　in　the　kitchen　with　the　women　when　my　father　relayed　the　new　plans　for　the　day。
　　　〃That　cotton's　soakin'　wet；〃　Gran　said　with　disapproval。　〃They　won't　pick　fifty　pounds。　It's　a　waste　of　time。〃
　　　Pappy　was　still　outside　and　didn't　hear　these　ments。　My　father　did；　but　he　was　in　no　mood　to　argue　with　his　mother。　〃We'll　try　and　move　them　to　another　farm；〃　he　said。
　　　〃Can　I　go　to　town？〃　I　asked　both　parents。　I　was　quite　anxious　to　leave　because　the　alternative　might　be　a　forced　march　with　the　Mexicans　to　the　back　forty；　where　I'd　be　expected　to　drag　a　picking　sack　through　mud　and　water　while　trying　to　pluck　off　soaked　cotton　bolls。
　　　My　mother　smiled　and　said；　〃Yes；　we　need　some　paint。〃
　　　Gran　gave　another　look　of　disapproval。　Why　were　we　spending　money　we　didn't　have　on　house　paint　when　we　were　losing　another　crop？　However；　the　house　was　about　half　and　half…a　striking　contrast　between　new　white　and　old　pale　brown。　The　project　had　to　be　finished。
　　　Even　my　father　seemed　uneasy　about　the　idea　of　parting　with　more　cash；　but　he　said　to　me；　〃You　can　go。〃
　　　〃I'll　stay　here；〃　my　mother　said。　〃We　need　to　put　up　some　okra。〃
　　　Another　trip　to　town。　I　was　a　happy　boy。　No　pressure　to　pick　cotton；　nothing　to　do　but　ride　down　the　highway　and　dream　of　somehow　obtaining　candy　or　ice　cream　once　I　arrived　in　Black　Oak。　I　had　to　be　careful；　though；　because　I　was　the　only　happy　Chandler。
　　　The　St。　Francis　seemed　ready　to　burst　when　we　stopped　at　the　bridge。　〃Reckon　it's　safe？〃　I　asked　my　father。
　　　〃Sure　hope　so。〃　He　shifted　into　first；　and　we　crept　over　the　river；　both　of　us　too　afraid　to　look　down。　With　the　weight　of　our　truck　and　the　force　of　the　river；　the　bridge　shook　when　we　reached　the　middle。　We　picked　up　speed　and　were　soon　on　the　other　side。　We　both　exhaled。
　　　Losing　the　bridge　would　be　a　disaster。　We'd　be　isolated。　The　waters　would　rise　around　our　house；　and　we　would　have　no　place　to　go。　Even　the　Latchers　would　be　better　off。　They　lived　on　the　other　side　of　the　bridge；　the　same　side　as　Black　Oak　and　civilization。
　　　We　looked　at　the　Latchers'　land　as　we　drove　past。　〃Their　house　is　flooded；〃　my　father　said；　though　we　couldn't　see　that　far。　Their　crops　were　certainly　gone。
　　　Closer　to　town；　t