jg.paintedhouse-第19部分

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e。〃
　　　For　a　moment　Stick　seemed　to　agree；　but　he　wasn't　about　to　concede。　〃That's　if　he's　tellin'　the　truth。　He'll　need　witnesses；　and　right　now　they're　few　and　far　between。〃　Stick　turned　to　face　Hank　again　and　said；　〃Who　were　the　three？〃
　　　〃I　didn't　ask　their　names；　sir；〃　Hank　said　with　perfect　sarcasm。　〃We　didn't　have　a　chance　to　say　howdy。　Three　against　one　takes　up　a　lotta　time；　especially　if　you're　the　one。〃
　　　Laughter　would've　upset　Stick；　and　nobody　wanted　to　run　that　risk。　So　we　just　lowered　our　heads　and　grinned。
　　　〃Don't　get　smart　with　me；　boy！〃　Stick　said；　trying　to　reassert　himself。　〃Don't　suppose　you　got　any　witnesses；　do　you？〃
　　　The　humor　vanished　into　a　long　period　of　silence。　I　was　hoping　that　maybe　Bo　or　Dale　would　step　forward　and　claim　to　be　a　witness。　Since　the　Spruills　had　just　proved　that　they　would　lie　under　pressure；　it　seemed　sensible　to　me　that　one　of　them　would　quickly　verify　Hank's　version。　But　nobody　moved；　nobody　spoke。　I　slipped　over　a　few　inches　and　was　directly　behind　my　mother。
　　　Then　I　heard　words　that　would　change　my　life。　With　the　air　perfectly　still；　Hank　said；　〃Little　Chandler　saw　it。〃
　　　Little　Chandler　almost　wet　his　pants。
　　　When　I　opened　my　eyes；　everyone　was　staring　at　me；　of　course。　Gran　and　my　mother　looked　particularly　horrified。　I　felt　guilty　and　looked　guilty；　and　I　knew　in　an　instant　that　every　person　there　believed　Hank。　I　was　a　witness！　I'd　seen　the　fight。
　　　〃e　here；　Luke；〃　Pappy　said；　and　I　walked　as　slowly　as　humanly　possible　to　a　spot　in　the　center。　I　glanced　up　at　Hank；　and　his　eyes　were　glowing。　He　wore　his　usual　smirk；　and　his　face　told　me　that　he　knew　I　was　caught。　The　crowd　inched　in　as　if　surrounding　me。
　　　〃Did　you　see　the　fight？〃　Pappy　asked。
　　　I'd　been　taught　in　Sunday　school　from　the　day　I　could　walk　that　lying　would　send　you　straight　to　hell。　No　detours。　No　second　chances。　Straight　into　the　fiery　pit；　where　Satan　was　waiting　with　the　likes　of　Hitler　and　Judas　Iscariot　and　General　Grant。　Thou　shalt　not　bear　false　witness；　which；　of　course；　didn't　sound　exactly　like　a　strict　prohibition　against　lying；　but　that　was　the　way　the　Baptists　interpreted　it。　And　I'd　been　whipped　a　couple　of　times　for　telling　little　fibs。　〃Just　tell　the　truth　and　get　it　over　with〃　was　one　of　Gran's　favorite　sayings。
　　　I　said；　〃Yes　sir。〃
　　　〃What　were　you　doin'　there？〃
　　　〃I　heard　there　was　a　fight；　so　I　took　off　and　watched　it。〃　I　wasn't　about　to　include　Dewayne；　at　least　not　until　I　had　to。
　　　Stick　dropped　to　one　knee　so　that　his　chubby　face　was　eye…level　with　mine。　〃Tell　me　what　you　saw；〃　he　said。　〃And　tell　the　truth。〃
　　　I　glanced　at　my　father；　who　was　hovering　over　my　shoulder。　And　I　looked　at　Pappy；　who；　oddly；　didn't　seem　at　all　angry　with　me。
　　　I　sucked　in　air　until　my　lungs　were　full；　and　I　looked　at　Tally；　who　was　watching　me　very　closely。　Then　I　looked　at　Stick's　flat　nose　and　his　black；　puffy　eyes；　and　I　said；　〃Jerry　Sisco　was　fightin'　some　man　from　the　hills。　Then　Billy　Sisco　jumped　on　him；　too。　They　were　beatin'　him　up　pretty　bad　when　Mr。　Hank　stepped　in　to　help　the　man　from　the　hills。〃
　　　〃Right　then；　was　it　two　against　one；　or　two　against　two？〃　Stick　asked。
　　　〃Two　against　one。〃
　　　〃What　happened　to　the　first　hill　boy？〃
　　　〃I　don't　know。　He　just　left。　I　think　he　was　hurt　pretty　bad。〃
　　　〃All　right。　Keep　goin'。　And　tell　the　truth。〃
　　　〃He's　tellin'　the　truth！〃　Pappy　snarled。
　　　〃Go　on。〃
　　　I　glanced　around　again　to　make　sure　Tally　was　still　watching。　Not　only　was　she　studying　me　closely；　but　now　she　had　a　pleasant　little　smile。　〃Then；　all　of　a　sudden；　Bobby　Sisco　charged　from　the　crowd　and　attacked　Mr。　Hank。　It　was　three　against　one；　just　like　Mr。　Hank　said。〃
　　　Hank's　face　did　not　relax。　If　anything；　he　looked　at　me　with　even　more　viciousness。　He　was　thinking　ahead；　and　he　wasn't　finished　with　me。
　　　〃I　guess　that　settles　it；〃　Pappy　said。　〃I　ain't　no　lawyer；　but　I　could　sway　a　jury　if　it's　three　against　one。〃
　　　Stick　ignored　him　and　leaned　even　closer　to　me。　〃Who　had　the　two…by…four？〃　he　asked；　his　eyes　narrowing　as　if　this　were　the　most　important　question　of　all。
　　　Hank　suddenly　exploded。　〃Tell　him　the　truth；　boy！〃　he　shouted。　〃One　of　them　Siscos　picked　up　that　stick　of　wood；　didn't　he？〃
　　　I　could　feel　the　stares　of　Gran　and　my　mother　behind　me。　And　I　knew　Pappy　wanted　to　reach　over　and　shake　me　by　the　neck　and　somehow　make　the　right　words　e　out。
　　　In　front　of　me；　not　too　far　away；　Tally　was　pleading　with　her　eyes。　Bo　and　Dale；　and　even　Trot；　were　looking　at　me。
　　　〃Didn't　he；　boy！〃　Hank　barked　again。
　　　I　met　Stick's　gaze　and　began　nodding；　slowly　at　first；　a　timid　little　lie　delivered　without　a　word。　And　I　kept　nodding；　and　kept　lying；　and　in　doing　so；　did　more　to　harvest　our　cotton　than　six　months　of　good　weather。
　　　I　was　skirting　around　the　edges　of　the　fiery　depths。　Satan　was　waiting；　and　I　could　feel　the　heat。　I'd　run　to　the　woods　and　pray　for　forgiveness　as　soon　as　I　could。　I'd　ask　God　to　go　easy　on　me。　He'd　given　us　the　cotton；　it　was　up　to　us　to　protect　it　and　gather　the　crops。
　　　Stick　slowly　stood；　but　he　kept　staring　at　me；　our　eyes　locked　together；　because　both　of　us　knew　I　was　lying。　Stick　didn't　want　to　arrest　Hank　Spruill；　not　then　anyway。　First；　he'd　have　to　put　the　handcuffs　on　him；　a　task　that　could　turn　ugly。　Second；　he'd　upset　all　the　farmers。
　　　My　father　grabbed　me　by　the　shoulder　and　shoved　me　back　toward　the　women。　〃You've　scared　him　to　death；　Stick；〃　he　said　with　an　awkward　laugh；　trying　to　break　the　tension　and　get　me　out　of　there　before　I　said　something　wrong。
　　　〃Is　he　a　good　boy？〃　Stick　asked。
　　　〃He　tells　the　truth；〃　my　father　said。
　　　〃Of　course　he　tells　the　truth；〃　Pappy　said　with　a　good　dose　of　anger。
　　　The　truth　had　just　been　rewritten。
　　　〃I'm　gonna　keep　askin'　around；〃　Stick　said　and　began　walking　toward　his　car。　〃I　might　be　back　later。〃
　　　He　slammed　the　door　of　his　old　patrol　car　and　left　our　yard。　We　watched　him　drive　away　until　he　was　out　of　sight。
　
　
　Chapter　10
　　　
　　　Since　we　didn't　work　on　Sunday；　the　house　became　smaller　as　my　parents　and　grandparents　busied　themselves　with　the　few　light　chores　that　were　permitted。　Naps　were　attempted；　then　abandoned　because　of　the　heat。　Occasionally；　when　the　moods　were　edgy；　my　parents　tossed　me　in　the　back　of　the　pickup；　and　we　went　for　a　long　drive。　There　was　nothing　to　see…all　the　land　was　flat　and　covered　with　cotton。　The　views　were　the　same　as　those　from　our　front　porch。　But　it　was　important　to　get　away。
　　　Not　long　after　Stick　left；　I　was　marched　into　the　garden　and　ordered　to　haul　food。　A　road　trip　was　in　the　making。　Two　cardboard　boxes　were　filled　with　vegetables。　They　were　so　heavy　that　my　father　had　to　place　them　in　the　back　of　the　truck。　As　we　drove　off；　the　Spruills　were　scattered　across　the　front　yard　in　various　stages　of　rest。　I　didn't　want　to　look　at　them。
　　　I　sat　in　the　back　between　the　boxes　of　vegetables　and　watched　the　dust　boil　from　behind　the　truck；　forming　gray　clouds　that　rose　quickly　and　hung　over　the　road　in　the　heavy　air　before　slowly　dissipating　from　the　lack　of　wind。　The　rain　and　the　mud　from　the　early　morning　were　long　forgotten。　Everything　was　hot　again：　the　wooden　planks　of　the　truck　bed；　its　rusted　and　unpainted　frame；　even　the　corn　and　potatoes　and　tomatoes　my　mother　had　just　washed。　It　snowed　twice　a　year　in　our　part　of　Arkansas；　and　I　longed　for　a　thick；　cold　blanket　of　white　across　our　winter　fields；　cottonless　and　barren。
　　　The　dust　finally　stopped　at　the　edge　of　the　river；　and　we　crept　across　the　bridge。　I　stood　to　see　the　water　below；　the　thick　brown　stream　barely　moving　along　the　banks。　There　were　two　cane　poles　in　the　back　of　the　truck；　and　my　father　had　promised　we'd　fish　for　a　while　after　the　food　was　delivered。
　　　The　Latchers　were　sharecroppers　who　lived　no　more　than　a　mile　from　our　house；　but　they　might　as　well　have　been　in　another　county。　Their　run…down　shack　was　in　a　bend　of　the　river；　with　elms　and　willows　touching　the　roof　and　cotton　growing　almost　to　the　front　porch。　There　was　no　grass　around　the　house；　just　a　ring　of　dirt　where　a　horde　of　little　Latchers　played。　I　was　secretly　happy　that　they　lived　on　the　other　side　of　the　river。　Otherwise；　I　might　have　been　expected　to　play　with　them。
　　　They　farmed　thirty　acres　and　split　the　crop　with　the　owner　of　the　land。　Half　of　a　little　left　nothing；　and　the　Latchers　were　dirt…poor。　They　had　no　electricity；　no　car　or　truck。　Occasionally；　Mr。　Latcher　would　walk　to　our　house　and　ask　Pappy　for　a　ride　on　the　next　trip　to　Black　Oak。
　　　The　trail　to　their　house　was　barely　wide　enough　for　our　truck；　and　when　we　rolled　to　a　stop；　the　porch　was　already　filled　with　dirty　little　faces。　I　had　once　counted　seven　Latcher　kids；　but　an　accurate　total　was　impossible。　It　was　hard　to　tell　the　boys　from　the　girls；　all　had　shaggy　hair；　narrow　faces　with　the　same　pale　blue　eyes；　and　they　all　wore　raggedy　clothes。
　　　Mrs。　Latcher　emerged　from　the　decrepit　porch；　wiping　her　hands　on　her　apron。　She　managed　to　smile　at　my　mother。　〃Hello；　Mrs。　Chandler；〃　she　said　in　a　soft　voice。　She　was　barefoot；　and　her　legs　were　as　skinny　as　twigs。
　　　〃Nice　to　see　you；　Darla；〃　my　mother　said。　My　father　busied　himself　at　the　back　of　the　truck；　fiddling　with　the　boxes；　killing　ti