jg.paintedhouse-第14节

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ears；　according　to　Gran。　And　he　hadn't　been　to　church　since　before　the　First　War。　I'd　heard　folks　openly　praying　for　him　during　revivals。
　　　I　loved　the　traffic　and　the　crowded　sidewalks　and　the　uncertainty　of　whom　you　might　see　next。　I　liked　the　groups　of　Mexicans　camped　under　shade　trees；　eating　ice　cream　and　greeting　their　countrymen　from　other　farms　in　excited　bursts　of　Spanish。　I　liked　the　crowds　of　strangers；　hill　people　who　would　be　gone　before　long。　Pappy　told　me　once　that　when　he　was　in　St。　Louis　before　the　First　War；　there　were　half　a　million　other　people　there　and　that　he　got　lost　just　walking　down　a　street。
　　　That　would　never　happen　to　me。　When　I　walked　down　the　streets　in　St。　Louis；　everybody　would　know　me。
　　　I　followed　my　mother　and　Gran　to　Pop　and　Pearl　Watson's。　The　men　went　to　the　Co…op　because　that's　where　all　the　farmers　went　on　Saturday　afternoon。　I　could　never　determine　exactly　what　they　did　there；　besides　gripe　about　the　price　of　cotton　and　fret　over　the　weather。
　　　Pearl　was　busy　at　the　cash　register。　〃Hi；　Mrs。　Watson；〃　I　said　when　I　could　get　close　enough。　The　store　was　packed　with　women　and　Mexicans。
　　　〃Well；　hello；　Luke；〃　she　said　as　she　winked　at　me。　〃How's　the　cotton？〃　she　asked。　It　was　the　same　question　you　heard　over　and　over。
　　　〃Pickin'　well；〃　I　said；　as　if　I'd　hauled　in　a　ton。
　　　It　took　Gran　and　my　mother　an　hour　to　buy　five　pounds　of　flour；　two　pounds　of　sugar；　two　pounds　of　coffee；　a　bottle　of　vinegar；　a　pound　of　table　salt；　and　two　bars　of　soap。　The　aisles　were　crowded　with　women　more　concerned　with　saying　hello　than　with　buying　food。　They　talked　about　their　gardens　and　the　weather　and　church　the　next　day；　and　about　who　was　definitely　having　a　baby　and　who　might　be。　They　prattled　on　about　a　funeral　here；　a　revival　there；　an　uping　wedding。
　　　Not　one　word　about　the　Cardinals。
　　　My　only　chore　in　town　was　to　haul　the　groceries　back　to　the　truck。　When　this　was　acplished；　I　was　free　to　roam　Main　Street　and　its　alleys　without　being　supervised。　I　moved　with　the　languid　foot　traffic　toward　the　north　end　of　Black　Oak；　past　the　Co…op；　past　the　drugstore　and　the　hardware　store　and　the　Tea　Shoppe。　Along　the　sidewalk；　packs　of　people　stood　gossiping；　with　no　intention　of　moving。　Telephones　were　scarce；　and　there　were　only　a　few　televisions　in　the　county；　so　Saturday　was　meant　for　catching　up　on　the　latest　news　and　events。
　　　I　found　my　friend　Dewayne　Pinter　trying　to　convince　his　mother　that　he　should　be　free　to　roam。　Dewayne　was　a　year　older　than　I　was　but　still　in　the　second　grade。　His　father　let　him　drive　their　tractor　around　the　farm；　and　this　elevated　his　status　among　all　second　graders　at　the　Black　Oak　School。　The　Pinters　were　Baptists　and　Cardinals　fans；　but　for　some　unknown　reason；　Pappy　still　didn't　like　them。
　　　〃Good　afternoon；　Luke；〃　Mrs。　Pinter　said　to　me。
　　　〃Hello；　Mrs。　Pinter。〃
　　　〃Where's　your　mother？〃　she　asked；　looking　behind　me。
　　　〃I　think　she's　still　at　the　drugstore。　I'm　not　sure。〃
　　　With　that；　Dewayne　was　able　to　tear　himself　away。　If　I　could　be　trusted　to　walk　the　streets　alone；　then　so　could　he。　As　we　walked　off；　Mrs。　Pinter　was　still　barking　instructions。　We　went　to　the　Dixie；　where　the　older　kids　were　hanging　out　and　waiting　for　four　o'clock。　In　my　pocket　I　had　a　few　coins…five　cents　for　the　matinee；　five　cents　for　a　Coca…Cola；　three　cents　for　popcorn。　My　mother　had　given　me　I　he　money　as　an　advance　against　what　I　would　earn　picking　cotton。　I　was　supposed　to　pay　it　back　one　day；　but　she　and　I　both　knew　it　would　never　happen。　If　Pappy　tried　to　collect　it；　he　would　have　to　step　around　Mom。
　　　Evidently　Dewayne　had　had　a　better　week　with　the　cotton　than　I　had。　He　had　a　pocket　full　of　dimes　and　couldn't　wait　to　show　them　off。　His　family　also　rented　land；　and　they　owned　twenty　acres　outright；　a　lot　more　than　the　Chandlers。
　　　A　freckle…faced　girl　named　Brenda　lingered　near　us；　trying　to　start　a　conversation　with　Dewayne。　She'd　told　all　of　her　friends　that　she　wanted　to　marry　him。　She　was　making　his　life　unbearable　by　following　him　around　at　church；　shadowing　him　every　Saturday　up　and　down　Main　Street；　and　always　asking　if　he　would　sit　by　her　at　the　movies。
　　　Dewayne　despised　her。　When　a　pack　of　Mexicans　walked　by；　we　got　lost　in　the　middle　of　them。
　　　A　fight　erupted　behind　the　Co…op；　a　popular　spot　for　the　older　boys　to　gather　and　trade　punches。　It　happened　every　Saturday；　and　nothing　electrified　Black　Oak　like　a　good　fight。　The　crowd　pushed　its　way　through　a　wide　alley　next　to　the　Co…op；　and　in　the　rush　I　heard　someone　say；　〃I'll　bet　it's　a　Sisco。〃
　　　My　mother　had　warned　me　against　watching　fights　behind　the　Co…op；　but　it　wasn't　a　strict　prohibition　because　I　knew　she　wouldn't　be　there。　No　proper　female　would　dare　to　be　caught　watching　a　fight。　Dewayne　and　I　snaked　our　way　through　the　mob；　anxious　to　see　some　violence。
　　　The　Siscos　were　dirt…poor　sharecroppers　who　lived　less　than　a　mile　from　town。　They　were　always　around　on　Saturday。　No　one　was　sure　how　many　kids　were　in　the　family；　but　they　could　all　fight。　Their　father　was　a　drunk　who　beat　them；　and　their　mother　had　once　whipped　a　fully　armed　deputy　who　was　trying　to　arrest　her　husband。　Broke　his　arm　and　his　nose。　The　deputy　left　town　in　disgrace。　The　oldest　Sisco　was　in　prison　for　killing　a　man　in　Jonesboro。
　　　The　Sisco　kids　didn't　go　to　school　or　church；　so　I　managed　to　avoid　them。　Sure　enough；　when　we　got　close　and　peeked　through　the　spectators；　there　was　Jerry　Sisco　punching　a　stranger　in　the　face。
　　　〃Who's　that？〃　I　asked　Dewayne。　The　crowd　was　yelling　for　each　fighter　to　hurry　up　and　maim　the　other。
　　　〃Don't　know；〃　Dewayne　said。　〃Probably　a　hillbilly。〃
　　　That　made　sense。　With　the　county　full　of　hill　people　picking　cotton；　it　was　only　logical　that　the　Siscos　would　start　a　fight　with　someone　who　didn't　know　them。　The　locals　knew　better。　The　stranger's　face　was　puffy；　and　there　was　blood　dripping　from　his　nose。　Jerry　Sisco　ripped　a　sharp　right　to　his　teeth　and　knocked　the　man　down。
　　　A　whole　gang　of　Siscos　and　their　ilk　were　in　one　corner；　laughing；　and　probably　drinking。　They　were　shaggy　and　dirty　with　ragged　clothes　and　only　a　few　had　shoes。　Their　toughness　was　legendary。　They　were　lean　and　hungry　and　fought　with　every　dirty　trick　in　the　hook。　The　year　before；　Billy　Sisco　had　almost　killed　a　Mexican　in　a　fight　behind　the　gin。
　　　On　the　other　side　of　the　makeshift　arena　was　a　group　of　hill　people；　all…yelling　for　their　man…〃Doyle；〃　it　turned　out…to　get　up　and　do　something。　Doyle　was　rubbing　his　chin　when　he　jumped　up　and　made　a　charge。　He　managed　to　ram　his　head　into　Jerry　Sisco's　stomach；　sending　both　of　them　to　the　ground。　This　brought　a　cheer　from　the　hill　people。　The　rest　of　us　wanted　to　cheer；　too；　but　we　didn't　want　to　upset　the　Siscos。　This　was　their　game；　and　they'd　e　after　anybody。
　　　The　two　fighters　clutched　and　clawed　and　rolled　around　in　the　dirt　like　wild　animals；　as　the　yelling　got　louder。　Doyle　suddenly　cocked　his　right　hand　and　landed　a　perfect　punch　in　the　middle　of　Jerry　Sisco's　face；　sending　blood　everywhere。　Jerry　was　still　for　a　split　second；　and　we　were　all　secretly　hoping　that　perhaps　a　Sisco　had　met　his　match。　Doyle　was　about　to　land　another　punch　when　Billy　Sisco　abruptly　charged　from　the　pack　and　kicked　Doyle　square　in　the　back。　Doyle　shrieked　like　a　wounded　dog　and　rolled　to　the　ground；　where　both　Siscos　were　immediately　on　him；　kicking　and　pounding　him。
　　　Doyle　was　about　to　be　slaughtered。　Though　there　was　nothing　fair　about　it；　it　was　simply　the　risk　you　ran　if　you　fought　a　Sisco。　The　hill　people　were　silent；　and　the　locals　watched　without　taking　a　step　forward。
　　　Then　the　two　Siscos　dragged　Doyle　to　his　feet；　and　with　all　the　patience　of　an　executioner；　Jerry　kicked　him　in　the　groin。　Doyle　screamed　and　dropped　to　the　ground。　The　Siscos　were　delirious　with　laughter。
　　　The　Siscos　were　in　the　process　of　picking　him　up　again　when　Mr。　Hank　Spruill；　he　of　the　tree…trunk　neck；　stepped　out　from　the　crowd　and　hit　Jerry　hard；　causing　him　to　fall。　Quick　as　a　cat；　Billy　Sisco　threw　a　left　jab　that　popped　Hank　in　the　jaw；　but　a　curious　thing　happened。　The　jab　didn't　phase　Hank　Spruill。　He　turned　around　and　grabbed　Billy　by　his　hair　and　without　any　apparent　effort　spun　him　around　and　flung　him　into　the　grouping　of　Siscos　in　the　crowd。　From　the　strewn　pack　came　a　new　Sisco；　Bobby；　aged　no　more　than　sixteen；　but　just　as　mean　as　his　brothers。
　　　Three　Siscos　against　Hank　Spruill。
　　　As　Jerry　was　getting　to　his　feet；　Hank；　with　unbelievable　speed；　kicked　him　in　the　ribs　so　hard　that　we　heard　cracking。　Then　Hank　turned　and　slapped　Bobby　with　the　back　of　his　hand；　knocking　him　down；　and　kicked　him　in　the　teeth。　By　this　time　Billy　was　making　another　lunge；　and　Hank；　like　a　circus　strongman；　lifted　the　much　skinnier　boy　into　the　air　and　flipped　him　into　the　side　of　the　Co…op；　where　he　crashed　loudly；　rattling　the　boards　and　windows；　before　falling　to　the　pavement　on　his　head。　I　couldn't　have　tossed　a　baseball　any　easier。
　　　When　Billy　hit　the　ground；　Hank　took　him　by　the　throat　and　dragged　him　back　into　the　center　of　the　arena；　where　Bobby　was　on　all　fours；　struggling　to　get　to　his　feet。　Jerry　was　crumpled　to　one　side；　clutching　his　ribs　and　whimpering。
　　　Hank　kicked　Bobby　be