jg.paintedhouse-第58部分

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red　at　Cowboy；　his　face　frozen　in　terror。
　　　With　strokes　that　were　quick　and　vicious；　Cowboy　slashed　away　and　finished　the　job。　When　Hank　was　down　and　still；　Cowboy　quickly　went　through　his　pants　pockets　and　robbed　him。　Then　he　dragged　him　to　the　side　of　the　bridge　and　shoved　him　over。　The　corpse　landed　with　a　splash　and　immediately　went　under。　Cowboy　went　through　the　bag；　found　nothing　he　wanted；　and　threw　it　over；　too。　He　stood　at　the　edge　of　the　bridge　and　watched　the　water　for　a　long　time。
　　　I　had　no　desire　to　join　Hank；　so　I　burrowed　between　two　rows　of　cotton　and　hid　so　low　that　I　couldn't　have　found　myself。　My　heart　was　pounding　faster　than　ever　before。　I　was　shaking　and　sweating　and　crying　and　praying；　too。　I　should've　been　in　bed；　safe　and　asleep　with　my　parents　next　door　and　my　grandparents　just　down　the　hall。　But　they　seemed　so　far　away。　I　was　alone　in　a　shallow　foxhole；　alone　and　frightened　and　in　great　danger。　I'd　just　seen　something　that　I　still　didn't　believe。
　　　I　don't　know　how　long　Cowboy　stood　there　on　the　bridge；　watching　the　water；　making　sure　Hank　was　gone。　The　clouds　would　move　over　the　half…moon；　and　I　could　barely　see　him。　They'd　move　again；　and　there　he　was；　still　standing；　his　dirty　cowboy　hat　cocked　to　one　side。　After　a　long　time；　he　walked　off　the　bridge　and　stopped　by　the　edge　of　the　river　to　wash　his　knife。　He　watched　the　river　some　more；　then　turned　and　started　walking　down　the　road。　When　he　passed　me　he　was　twenty　feet　away；　and　I　felt　like　I　was　buried　at　least　two　feet　in　the　ground。
　　　I　waited　forever；　until　he　was　long　out　of　sight；　until　there　was　no　possible　way　he　could　hear　me；　then　I　crawled　out　of　my　little　hole　and　began　my　journey　home。　I　wasn't　sure　what　I　would　do　once　I　got　there；　but　I'd　be　safe。　I'd　think　of　something。
　　　I　stayed　low；　moving　through　the　tall　Johnson　grass　along　the　edge　of　the　field。　As　farmers　we　hated　Johnson　grass；　but　for　the　first　time　in　my　life　I　was　thankful　for　it。　I　wanted　to　hurry；　to　sprint　down　the　middle　of　the　road　and　get　home　as　fast　as　possible；　but　I　was　terrified；　and　my　feet　were　heavy。　Fatigue　and　fear　gripped　me；　and　I　could　hardly　move　at　times。　It　took　forever　before　I　saw　the　outlines　of　our　house　and　barn。　I　watched　the　road　in　front　of　me；　certain　that　Cowboy　was　up　there　somewhere；　watching　his　rear；　watching　his　flanks。　I　tried　not　to　think　about　Hank。　I　was　too　concerned　with　getting　to　the　house。
　　　When　I　stopped　to　catch　my　breath；　I　picked　up　the　unmistakable　smell　of　a　Mexican。　They　seldom　bathed；　and　after　a　few　days　of　picking　cotton　they　took　on　their　own　particular　odor。
　　　It　passed　quickly；　and　after　a　minute　or　two　of　heavy　breathing　I　wondered　if　I　was　just　imagining　things。　Not　taking　chances；　I　retreated　once　again　to　the　depths　of　the　Jeter　cotton　and　slowly　headed　east；　cutting　through　row　after　row　without　a　sound。　When　I　could　see　the　white　tents　of　Camp　Spruill；　I　knew　I　was　almost　home。
　　　What　would　I　tell　about　Hank？　The　truth；　nothing　but。　I　was　burdened　with　enough　secrets；　there　was　room　for　no　more；　especially　one　as　heavy　as　this。　I'd　crawl　into　Ricky's　room；　try　and　get　some　sleep；　and　when　my　father　woke　me　to　collect　eggs　and　milk　I'd　tell　the　whole　story。　Every　step；　every　move；　every　cut　of　the　knife…my　father　would　hear　it　all。　He　and　Pappy　would　head　to　town　to　report　the　killing　to　Stick　Powers；　and　they'd　have　Cowboy　in　jail　before　lunch。　They'd　probably　hang　him　before　Christmas。
　　　Hank　was　dead。　Cowboy　would　be　in　jail。　The　Spruills　would　pack　up　and　leave；　but　I　didn't　care。　I　never　wanted　to　see　another　Spruill；　not　even　Tally。　I　wanted　everybody　off　our　farm　and　out　of　our　lives。
　　　I　wanted　Ricky　to　e　home　and　the　Latchers　to　move　away；　then　everything　would　be　normal　again。
　　　When　I　was　within　sprinting　distance　of　our　front　porch；　I　decided　to　make　my　move。　My　nerves　were　frayed；　my　patience　gone。　I'd　been　hiding　for　hours；　and　I　was　tired　of　it。　I　scooted　to　the　very　end　of　the　cotton　rows　and　stepped　over　the　ditch　into　the　road。　I　ducked　low；　listened　for　a　second；　then　started　to　run。　After　two　steps；　maybe　three；　there　was　a　sound　from　behind；　then　a　hand　slapped　my　feet　together　and　down　I　went。　Cowboy　was　on　top　of　me；　a　knee　in　my　chest；　the　switchblade　an　inch　from　my　nose。　His　eyes　were　glowing。　〃Silence！〃　he　hissed。
　　　We　were　both　breathing　hard　and　sweating　profusely；　and　his　odor　hit　me　hard；　no　doubt　the　same　one　I'd　smelled　just　minutes　earlier。　I　stopped　wiggling　and　gritted　my　teeth。　His　knee　was　crushing　me。
　　　〃Been　to　the　river？〃　he　asked。
　　　I　shook　my　head　no。　Sweat　from　his　chin　dripped　into　my　eyes　and　burned。　He　waved　the　blade　a　little；　as　if　I　couldn't　see　it　already。
　　　〃Then　where　you　been？〃　he　asked。
　　　I　shook　my　head　again；　I　couldn't　speak。　Then　I　realized　my　whole　body　was　shaking；　trembling　in　rigid　fear。
　　　When　it　was　apparent　I　could　not　utter　a　word；　he　took　the　tip　of　the　blade　and　tapped　my　forehead。　〃You　speak　one　word　about　tonight；〃　he　said　slowly；　his　eyes　doing　more　talking　than　his　mouth；　〃and　I　will　kill　your　mother。　Understand？〃
　　　I　nodded　fiercely。　He　stood　and　walked　away；　quickly　disappearing　into　the　blackness　and　leaving　me　in　the　dust　and　dirt　of　our　road。　I　started　crying；　and　crawling；　and　I　made　it　to　our　truck　before　I　passed　out。
　　　
　　　They　found　me　under　their　bed。　In　the　confusion　of　the　moment；　with　my　parents　yelling　at　me　and　quizzing　me　about　everything…my　dirty　clothes；　the　bloody　nicks　on　my　arms；　why　exactly　was　I　sleeping　under　their　bed…I　managed　to　conjure　up　the　tale　that　I'd　had　a　horrible　dream。　Hank　had　drowned！　And　I　had　gone　to　check　on　him。
　　　〃You　were　sleepwalkin'！〃　my　mother　said　in　disbelief；　and　I　seized　this　immediately。
　　　〃I　guess；〃　I　said；　nodding。　Everything　after　that　was　a　blur…I　was　dead　tired　and　scared　and　not　sure　if　what　I'd　seen　at　the　river　had　really　happened　or　had　in　fact　been　a　dream。　I　was　horrified　at　the　thought　of　ever　facing　Cowboy　again。
　　　〃Ricky　used　to　do　that；〃　Gran　added　from　the　hallway。　〃Caught　'im　one　night　out　past　the　silo。〃
　　　This　helped　calm　things　somewhat。　They　led　me　to　the　kitchen　and　sat　me　at　the　table。　My　mother　scrubbed　me　while　Gran　doctored　the　Johnson　grass　cuts　on　my　arms。　The　men　saw　that　matters　were　under　control；　so　they　left　to　gather　eggs　and　milk。
　　　A　loud　thunderstorm　hit　just　as　we　were　about　to　eat；　and　the　sounds　were　a　great　relief　to　me。　We　wouldn't　be　going　to　the　fields　for　a　few　hours。　I　wouldn't　be　near　Cowboy。
　　　They　watched　me　as　I　picked　at　my　food。　〃I'm　okay；〃　I　said　at　one　point。
　　　The　rain　fell　heavy　and　loud　onto　our　tin　roof；　drowning　out　conversation　so　that　we　ate　in　silence；　the　men　worrying　about　the　cotton；　the　women　worrying　about　me。
　　　I　had　enough　worries　to　crush　us　all。
　　　〃Could　I　finish　later？〃　I　asked；　slightly　shoving　my　plate　away。　〃I'm　really　sleepy。〃
　　　My　mother　decided　that　I　would　go　back　to　bed　and　rest　for　as　long　as　I　needed　to。　As　the　women　were　clearing　the　table；　I　whispered　to　my　mother　and　asked　her　if　she　would　lie　down　with　me。　Of　course　she　would。
　　　She　fell　asleep　before　I　did。　We　were　in　my　parents'　bed；　in　their　semidark　bedroom；　still　and　cool　and　listening　to　the　rain；　with　the　men　in　the　kitchen　not　far　away；　drinking　coffee　and　waiting；　and　I　felt　safe。
　　　I　wanted　it　to　rain　forever。　The　Mexicans　and　the　Spruills　would　leave。　Cowboy　would　be　shipped　home；　back　to　where　he　could　cut　and　slash　all　he　wanted；　and　I'd　never　know　about　it。　And　sometime　next　summer；　when　plans　were　made　for　the　harvest；　I'd　make　sure　Miguel　and　his　band　of　Mexicans　were　not　hauled　back　to　our　county。
　　　I　wanted　my　mother　next　to　me；　with　my　father　nearby。　I　wanted　to　sleep；　but　when　I　closed　my　eyes　I　saw　Hank　and　Cowboy　on　the　bridge。　I　was　suddenly　hopeful　that　Hank　was　still　there；　still　in　Camp　Spruill　rummaging　for　a　biscuit；　still　throwing　rocks　at　the　barn　at　midnight。　Then　it　would　all　be　a　dream。
　
　
　Chapter　26
　　　
　　　I　clung　to　my　mother　throughout　the　day；　after　the　storm　passed；　after　lunch；　after　the　rest　of　them　went　to　the　fields　and　we　stayed　around　the　house。　There　were　whispers　between　my　parents　and　a　frown　from　my　father；　but　she　was　adamant。　There