jg.paintedhouse-第63部分

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　　　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；　there　were　Mexicans　in　the　fields；　though　not　as　many　as　before。　We　parked　by　the　Co…op　and　went　inside。　Some　grim…faced　farmers　were　sitting　in　the　back；　sipping　coffee　and　talking　about　their　problems。　My　father　gave　me　a　nickel　for　a　Coca…Cola；　then　he　joined　the　farmers。
　　　〃Y'all　pickin'　out　there？〃　one　asked　him。
　　　〃Maybe　a　little。〃
　　　〃How's　that　creek？〃
　　　〃She　came　over　last　night。　Moved　more　than　half　a　mile　before　sunrise。　The　lower　forty's　gone。〃
　　　They　observed　a　moment　of　silence　for　this　terrible　news；　each　of　them　staring　at　the　floor　and　feeling　pity　for　us　Chandlers。　I　hated　farming　even　more。
　　　〃I　guess　the　river's　holdin'；〃　another　man　said。
　　　〃It　is　out　our　way；〃　my　father　said。　〃But　it　won't　be　long。〃
　　　They　all　nodded　and　seemed　to　share　this　prediction。　〃Anybody　else　got　water　over　the　banks？〃　my　father　asked。
　　　〃I　hear　the　Tripletts　lost　twenty　acres　to　Deer　Creek；　but　I　ain't　seen　it　myself；〃　said　one　farmer。
　　　〃All　the　creeks　are　backin'　up；〃　another　said。　〃Puttin'　a　lot　of　pressure　on　the　St。　Francis。〃
　　　More　silence　as　they　contemplated　the　creeks　and　the　pressure。
　　　〃Anybody　need　some　Mexicans？〃　my　father　finally　asked。　〃I　got　nine　of　'em　with　nothin'　to　do。　They're　ready　to　head　home。〃
　　　〃Any　word　from　number　ten？〃
　　　〃Nope。　He's　long　gone；　and　we　ain't　had　time　to　worry　about　him。〃
　　　〃Riggs　knows　some　farmers　up　north　of　Blytheville　who'll　take　the　Mexicans。〃
　　　〃Where's　Riggs？〃　my　father　asked。
　　　〃He'll　be　back　directly。〃
　　　Hill　people　were　leaving　in　droves；　and　the　conversation　settled　on　them　and　the　Mexicans。　The　exodus　of　labor　was　further　evidence　that　the　crops　were　finished。　The　dreary　mood　in　the　rear　of　the　Co…op　grew　even　darker；　so　I　left　to　check　on　Pearl　and　perhaps　cajole　a　Tootsie　Roll　out　of　her。
　　　Pop　and　Pearl's　grocery　store　was　closed；　a　first　for　me。　A　small　sign　gave　its　hours　as　nine　to　six；　Monday　through　Friday；　and　nine　to　nine　on　Saturday。　Closed　on　Sundays；　but　that　went　without　saying。　Mr。　Sparky　Dillon；　the　mechanic　down　at　the　Texaco　place；　came　up　behind　me　and　said；　〃Ain't　open　till　nine；　son。〃
　　　〃What　time　is　it？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃Eight…twenty。〃
　　　I'd　never　been　in　Black　Oak　at　such　an　early　hour。　I　looked　up　and　down　Main　Street；　uncertain　as　to　where　I　should　shop　next。　I　settled　on　the　drugstore；　with　the　soda　fountain　in　the　rear；　and　I　was　walking　toward　it　when　I　heard　traffic。　Two　trucks　were　approaching　from　the　south；　from　our　end　of　the　county。　They　were　obviously　hill　people；　going　home；　with　their　belongings　stacked　high　and　strapped　to　the　frames　of　the　trucks。　The　family　in　the　first　truck　could　have　passed　for　the　Spruills；　with　teenagers　squatting　on　an　old　mattress　and　gazing　sadly　at　the　stores　as　they　passed。　The　second　truck　was　much　nicer　and　cleaner。　It；　too；　was　loaded　with　wooden　boxes　and　burlap　bags；　but　they　were　packed　neatly　together。　The　husband　drove；　and　the　wife　sat　in　the　passenger's　seat。　From　the　woman's　lap　a　small　child　waved　at　me　as　they　passed。　I　waved　back。
　　　Gran　always　said　that　some　of　the　hill　people　had　nicer　homes　than　we　did。　I　could　never　understand　why　they　packed　up　and　came　down　from　the　Ozarks　to　pick　cotton。
　　　I　saw　my　father　go　into　the　hardware　store；　so　I　followed　him。　He　was　in　the　back；　near　the　paint；　talking　with　the　clerk。　Four　gallons　of　white　Pittsburgh　Paint　were　on　the　counter。　I　thought　about　the　Pittsburgh　Pirates。　They　had　finished　last　again　in　the　National　League。　Their　only　great　player　was　Ralph　Kiner；　who'd　hit　thirty…seven　home　runs。
　　　Someday　I　would　play　in　Pittsburgh。　I　would　proudly　wear　my　Cardinal　red　and　crush　the　lowly　Pirates。
　　　It　had　taken　all　the　paint　we　had　left　to　finish　the　rear　of　the　house　the　day　before。　The　Mexicans　were　about　to　leave。　To　me　it　made　sense　to　buy　more　paint　and　take　advantage　of　the　free　labor　present　on　our　farm。　Otherwise　they'd　be　gone；　and　I'd　once　again　get　stuck　with　the　entire　project。
　　　〃That's　not　enough　paint；〃　I　whispered　to　my　father　as　the　clerk　added　the　bill。
　　　〃It'll　do　for　now；〃　he　said　with　a　frown。　The　issue　was　money。
　　　〃Ten　dollars　plus　tax　of　thirty…six　cents；〃　the　clerk　said。　My　father　reached　into　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　thin　roll　of　bills。　He　slowly　counted　them　out；　as　if　he　didn't　want　to　let　go。
　　　He　stopped　at　ten…ten　one…dollar　bills。　When　it　was　painfully　clear　he　didn't　have　enough；　he　faked　a　laugh　and　said；　〃Looks　like　I　just　brought　ten　bucks。　I'll　pay　you　the　tax　next　time　I'm　in。〃
　　　〃Sure；　Mr。　Chandler；〃　the　clerk　said。
　　　They　carried　two　gallons　each　and　loaded　the　paint　into　the　back　of　our　truck。　Mr。　Riggs　was　back　at　the　Co…op；　so　my　father　went　to　have　their　talk　about　our　Mexicans。　I　returned　to　the　hardware　store　and　went　straight　to　the　clerk。
　　　〃How　much　is　two　gallons？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃Two…fifty　a　gallon；　total　of　five　dollars。〃
　　　I　reached　into　my　pocket　and　pulled　out　my　money。　〃Here's　five；〃　I　said　as　I　handed　him　the　bills。　At　first　he　didn't　want　to　take　it。
　　　〃Did　you　pick　cotton　for　that　money？〃　he　asked。
　　　〃Yes　sir。〃
　　　〃Does　your　daddy　know　you're　buyin'　paint？〃
　　　〃Not　yet。〃
　　　〃What're　y'all　paintin'　out　there？〃
　　　〃Our　house。〃
　　　〃Why　you　doin'　that？〃
　　　〃　'Cause　it　ain't　never　been　painted。〃
　　　He　reluctantly　took　my　money。　〃Plus　eighteen　cents　for　tax；〃　he　said。　I　handed　him　a　dollar　bill　and　said；　〃How　much　does　my　daddy　owe　for　the　tax？〃
　　　〃Thirty…six　cents。〃
　　　〃Take　it　out　of　this。〃
　　　〃Okay。〃　He　gave　me　the　change；　then　loaded　two　more　gallons　into　our　truck。　I　stood　on　the　sidewalk　watching　our　paint　as　if　someone　might　try　to　steal　it。
　　　Next　to　Pop　and　Pearl's　I　saw　Mr。　Lynch　Thornton；　the　postmaster；　unlock　the　door　to　the　post　office　and　step　inside。　I　walked　toward　him；　keeping　a　watchful　eye　on　the　truck。　Mr。　Thornton　was　usually　a　cranky　sort；　and　many　believed　that　this　was　because　he　was　married　to　a　woman　who　had　a　problem　with　whiskey。　All　forms　of　alcohol　were　frowned　upon　by　almost　everyone　in　Black　Oak。　The　county　was　dry。　The　nearest　liquor　store　was　in　Blytheville；　though　there　were　some　bootleggers　in　the　area