jg.paintedhouse-第25部分

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；　but　I　was　certain　no　boy　my　age　had　ever　had　this　view。
　　　For　some　reason；　I　thought　of　Ricky　again；　and　a　wicked　idea　came　from　nowhere。　Having　seen　most　of　her　privates；　I　now　wanted　to　see　everything。　If　I　yelled　〃Snake！〃　at　the　top　of　my　voice；　she　would　scream　in　horror。　She　would　forget　the　soap　and　the　washcloth　and　the　nudity　and　all　that；　and　she　would　scamper　for　dry　land。　She　would　go　for　her　clothes；　but　for　a　few　glorious　seconds　I　would　see　it　all。
　　　I　swallowed　hard；　tried　to　clear　my　throat；　but　realized　how　dry　my　mouth　was。　With　my　heart　racing　away；　I　hesitated；　and　in　doing　so　learned　a　valuable　lesson　in　patience。
　　　To　wash　her　legs；　Tally　stepped　closer　to　the　bank。　She　rose　from　the　creek　until　the　water　covered　nothing　but　her　feet。　Slowly；　with　the　soap　and　cloth　she　bent　and　stretched　and　caressed　her　legs　and　buttocks　and　stomach。　My　heart　pounded　at　the　ground。
　　　She　rinsed　by　splashing　water　over　her　body。　And　when　she　was　finished；　and　still　standing　in　ankle…deep　water；　wonderfully　naked；　Tally　turned　and　stared　directly　at　the　spot　where　I　happened　to　be　hiding。
　　　I　dropped　my　head　and　burrowed　even　deeper　into　the　weeds。　I　waited　for　her　to　yell　something；　but　she　did　not。　This　sin　was　unforgivable；　I　was　now　certain。
　　　I　inched　backward；　very　slowly；　not　making　a　sound；　until　I　was　near　the　edge　of　the　cotton。　Then　I　crawled　furiously　along　the　tree　line　and　resumed　my　position　near　the　trail；　as　if　nothing　had　happened。　I　tried　to　look　bored　when　I　heard　her　ing。
　　　Her　hair　was　wet；　she'd　changed　dresses。　〃Thanks；　Luke；〃　she　said。
　　　〃Uh；　sure；〃　I　managed　to　say。
　　　〃I　feel　so　much　better。〃
　　　So　do　I；　I　thought。
　　　We　walked　slowly　back　toward　the　house。　Nothing　was　said　at　first；　but　when　we　were　halfway　home　she　asked；　〃You　saw　me；　didn't　you；　Luke？〃　Her　voice　was　light　and　playful；　and　I　didn't　want　to　lie。
　　　〃Yes；〃　I　said。
　　　〃That's　okay。　I'm　not　mad。〃
　　　〃You're　not？〃
　　　〃No。　I　guess　it's　only　natural；　you　know；　for　boys　to　look　at　girls。〃
　　　It　certainly　seemed　natural。　I　could　think　of　nothing　to　say。
　　　She　continued；　〃If　you'll　go　with　me　to　the　creek　the　next　time；　and　be　my　lookout；　then　you　can　do　it　again。〃
　　　〃Do　what　again？〃
　　　〃Watch　me。〃
　　　〃Okay；〃　I　said；　a　little　too　quickly。
　　　〃But　you　can't　tell　anybody。〃
　　　〃I　won't。〃
　　　Over　supper；　I　picked　at　my　food　and　tried　to　behave　as　if　nothing　had　happened。　It　was　difficult　eating；　though；　with　my　stomach　still　turning　flips。　I　could　see　Tally　just　as　clearly　as　if　we　were　still　at　the　creek。
　　　I'd　done　a　terrible　thing。　And　I　couldn't　wait　to　do　it　again。
　　　〃What're　you　thinkin'　'bout；　Luke？〃　Gran　asked。
　　　〃Nothin'　much；〃　I　said；　jolted　back　into　reality。
　　　〃e　on；〃　Pappy　said。　〃Something's　on　your　mind。〃
　　　Inspiration　hit　fast。　〃That　switchblade；〃　I　said。
　　　All　four　adults　shook　their　heads　in　disapproval。
　　　〃Think　pleasant　thoughts；〃　Gran　said。
　　　Don't　worry；　I　thought　to　myself。　Don't　worry。
　
　
　Chapter　13
　　　
　　　For　the　second　Sunday　in　a　row；　death　dominated　our　worship。　Mrs。　Letha　Haley　Dockery　was　a　large；　loud　woman　whose　husband　had　left　her　many　years　earlier　and　fled　to　California。　Not　surprisingly；　there　were　a　few　rumors　of　what　he　did　once　he　arrived　there；　and　the　favorite；　which　I'd　heard　a　few　times；　was　that　he　had　taken　up　with　a　younger　woman　of　another　race…possibly　Chinese；　though；　like　a　lot　of　gossip　around　Black　Oak；　it　couldn't　be　confirmed。　Who'd　ever　been　to　California？
　　　Mrs。　Dockery　had　raised　two　sons；　neither　of　whom　had　received　much　distinction　but　who　had　the　good　sense　to　leave　the　cotton　patch。　One　was　in　Memphis；　the　other　out　West；　wherever；　exactly；　that　was。
　　　She　had　other　family　scattered　around　northeastern　Arkansas；　and　in　particular　there　was　a　distant　cousin　who　lived　in　Paragould；　twenty　miles　away。　Very　distant；　according　to　Pappy；　who　didn't　like　Mrs。　Dockery　at　all。　This　cousin　in　Paragould　had　a　son　who　was　also　fighting　in　Korea。
　　　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　aw