jg.paintedhouse-第69部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


he　approved　or　not；　and　I'm　not　sure　that　it　mattered　anymore。　There　was　no　spring　in　his　step；　no　purpose　to　his　movement。　Pappy　was　just　another　beaten　farmer　in　the　midst　of　losing　yet　another　cotton　crop。
　　　My　parents　returned　from　the　garden　with　the　baskets　laden　with　produce。　〃Well；　if　it　isn't　Tom　Sawyer；〃　my　mother　said　to　me。
　　　〃Who's　he？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃I'll　tell　you　the　story　tonight。〃
　　　They　placed　the　baskets　on　the　porch；　careful　to　avoid　the　painting　area；　and　went　inside。　All　the　adults　were　gathered　in　the　kitchen；　and　I　wondered　if　they　were　talking　about　me　and　the　Mexicans。　Gran　appeared　with　a　pitcher　of　iced　tea　and　a　tray　of　glasses。　That　was　a　good　sign。　The　Mexicans　took　a　break　and　enjoyed　their　tea。　They　thanked　Gran；　then　immediately　started　bickering　over　who　got　the　brushes。
　　　The　sun　battled　the　clouds　as　the　afternoon　passed。　There　were　moments　when　its　light　was　clear　and　unbroken　and　the　air　was　warm；　almost　summerlike。　Inevitably；　we　would　look　up　at　the　sky　in　hopes　that　the　clouds　were　finally　leaving　Arkansas；　never　to　return；　or　at　least　not　until　the　spring。　Then　the　earth　turned　dark　again；　and　cooler。
　　　The　clouds　were　winning；　and　we　all　knew　it。　The　Mexicans　would　soon　be　leaving　our　farm；　just　as　the　Spruills　had。　We　couldn't　expect　people　to　sit　around　for　days；　watching　the　sky；　trying　to　stay　dry；　and　not　getting　paid。
　　　The　paint　was　gone　by　late　afternoon。　The　rear　of　our　house；　including　the　porch；　was　finished；　and　the　difference　was　astounding。　The　brilliant；　shiny　boards　contrasted　sharply　with　the　unpainted　ones　at　the　corner。　Tomorrow　we　would　attack　the　west　side；　assuming　I　could　somehow　negotiate　more　paint。
　　　I　thanked　the　Mexicans。　They　laughed　all　the　way　back　to　the　barn。　They　would　fix　and　eat　their　tortillas；　go　to　bed　early；　and　hope　they　could　pick　cotton　tomorrow。
　　　I　sat　in　the　cool　grass；　admiring　their　work；　not　wanting　to　go　inside　because　the　adults　were　not　in　good　spirits。　They　would　force　a　smile　at　me　and　try　to　say　something　amusing；　but　they　were　worried　sick。
　　　I　wished　I　had　a　brother…younger　or　older；　I　didn't　care。　My　parents　wanted　more　children；　but　there　were　problems　of　some　sort。　I　needed　a　friend；　another　kid　to　talk　with；　play　with；　conspire　with。　I　was　tired　of　being　the　only　little　person　on　the　farm。
　　　And　I　missed　Tally。　I　tried　valiantly　to　hate　her；　but　it　simply　wasn't　working。
　　　Pappy　walked　around　the　corner　of　the　house　and　inspected　the　new　coat　of　paint。　I　couldn't　tell　if　he　was　upset　or　not。
　　　〃Let's　ride　down　to　the　creek；〃　he　said；　and　without　another　word　we　walked　to　the　tractor。　He　started　it；　and　we　followed　the　ruts　in　the　field　road。　Water　was　standing　where　the　tractor　and　cotton　trailer　had　gone　many　times。　The　front　tires　splashed　mud　as　we　chugged　along。　The　rear　tires　chewed　up　the　ground　and　made　the　ruts　deeper。　We　were　slogging　through　a　field　that　was　fast　being　a　marsh。
　　　The　cotton　itself　looked　pitiful。　The　bolls　sagged　from　the　weight　of　the　rainfall。　The　stalks　were　bent　from　the　wind。　A　week　of　blazing　sunshine　might　dry　the　ground　and　the　cotton　and　allow　us　to　finish　picking；　but　such　weather　was　long　gone。
　　　We　turned　north　and　crept　along　an　even　soggier　trail；　the　same　one　Tally　and　I　had　walked　a　few　times。　The　creek　was　just　ahead。
　　　I　stood　slightly　behind　Pappy；　clutching　the　umbrella　stand　and　the　brace　above　the　left　rear　tire；　and　I　watched　the　side　of　his　face。　His　jaws　were　clenched；　his　eyes　were　narrowed。　Other　than　the　occasional　flare　of　temper；　he　was　not　one　to　show　emotion。　I'd　never　seen　him　cry　or　even　e　close。　He　worried　because　he　was　a　farmer；　but　he　did　not　plain。　If　the　rains　washed　away　our　crops；　then　there　was　a　reason　for　it。　God　would　protect　us　and　provide　for　us　through　good　years　and　bad。　As　Baptists　we　believed　God　was　in　control　of　everything。
　　　I　was　certain　there　was　a　reason　the　Cardinals　lost　the　pennant；　but　I　couldn't　understand　why　God　was　behind　it。　Why　would　God　allow　two　teams　from　New　York　to　play　in　the　World　Series？　It　pletely　baffled　me。
　　　The　water　was　suddenly　deeper　in　front　of　us；　six　inches　up　the　front　tires。　The　trail　was　flooded；　and　for　a　moment　I　was　puzzled　by　this。　We　were　near　the　creek。　Pappy　stopped　the　tractor　and　pointed。　〃It's　over　the　banks；〃　he　said　matter…of…factly；　but　there　was　defeat　in　his　voice。　The　water　was　ing　through　a　thicket　that　once　sat　high　above　the　creek　bed。　Somewhere　down　there　Tally　had　bathed　in　a　cool；　clear　stream　that　had　disappeared。
　　　〃It's　flooding；〃　he　said。　He　turned　off　the　tractor；　and　we　listened　to　the　sounds　of　the　current　as　it　came　over　the　sides　of　Siler's　Creek　and　ran　onto　the　bottomland　that　was　our　lower　forty　acres。　It　got　lost　between　the　rows　of　cotton　as　it　crept　down　the　slight　valley。　It　would　stop　somewhere　in　the　middle　of　the　field；　about　halfway　to　our　house；　at　a　point　where　the　land　began　a　gentle　slope　upward。　There　it　would　gather　and　gain　depth　before　spreading　east　and　west　and　covering　most　of　our　acreage。
　　　I　was　finally　seeing　a　flood。　There　had　been　others　but　I'd　been　too　young　to　remember　them。　All　of　my　young　life　I'd　heard　tall　tales　of　rivers　out　of　control　and　crops　submerged；　and　now　I　was　witnessing　it　for　myself；　as　if　for　the　first　time。　It　was　frightening　because　once　it　started　no　one　knew　when　it　would　end。　Nothing　held　the　water；　it　ran　wherever　it　wanted。　Would　it　reach　our　house？　Would　the　St。　Francis　spill　over　and　wipe　out　everyone？　Would　it　rain　for　forty　days　and　forty　nights　and　cause　us　to　perish　like　the　ones　who'd　laughed　at　Noah？
　　　Probably　not。　There　was　something　in　that　story　about　the　rainbow　as　God's　promise　to　never　again　flood　the　earth。
　　　It　was　certainly　flooding　now。　The　sight　of　a　rainbow　was　almost　a　holy　event　in　our　lives；　but　we　hadn't　seen　one　in　weeks。　I　didn't　understand　how　God　could　allow　such　things　to　happen。
　　　Pappy　had　been　to　the　creek　at　least　three　times　during　the　day；　watching　and　waiting　and　probably　praying。
　　　〃When　did　it　start？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃I　reckon　an　hour　ago。　Don't　know　for　sure。〃
　　　I　wanted　to　ask　when　it　would　stop；　but　I　already　knew　the　answer。
　　　〃It's　backwater；〃　he　said。　〃The　St。　Francis　is　too　full；　there's　no　place　for　it　to　go。〃
　　　We　watched　it　for　a　long　time。　It　poured　forth　and　came　toward　us；　rising　a　few　inches　on　the　front　tires。　After　a　while　I　was　anxious　to　head　back。　Pappy；　however；　was　not。　His　worries　and　fears　were　being　confirmed；　and　he　was　mesmerized　by　what　he　was　seeing。
　　　In　late　March；　he　and　my　father　had　begun　plowing　the　fields；　turning　over　the　soil；　burying　the　stalks　and　roots　and　leaves　from　the　previous　crop。　They　were　happy　then；　pleased　to　be　outdoors　after　a　long　hibernation。　They　watched　the　weather　and　studied　the　almanac；　and　they　had　begun　hanging　around　the　Co…op　to　hear　what　the　other　farmers　were　saying。　They　planted　in　early　May　if　the　weather　was　right。　May　15　was　an　absolute　deadline　for　putting　the　cotton　seeds　in　the　ground。　My　contribution　to　the　operation　began　in　early　June；　when　school　was　out　and　weeds　began　sprouting。　They　gave　me　a　hoe；　pointed　me　in　the　right　direction；　and　for　many　hours　a　day　I　chopped　cotton；　a　task　almost　as　hard　and　mind…numbing　as　picking　the　stuff。　All　summer　as　the　cotton　and　the　weeds　around　it　grew；　we　chopped。　If　the　cotton　bloomed　by　July　4；　then　it　was　going　to　be　a　bumper　crop。　By　late　August　we　were　ready　to　pick。　By　early　September　we　were　searching　for　hill　people　and　trying　to　line　up　some　Mexicans。
　　　And　now；　in　mid…October；　we　were　watching　it　get　swept　away。　All　the　labor；　the　sweat　and　sore　muscles；　all　the　money　invested　in　seed　and　fertilizer　and　fuel；　all　the　hopes　and　plans；　everything　was　now　being　lost　to　the　backwaters　of　the　St。　Francis　River。
　　　We　waited；　but　the　flood　did　not　stop。　In　fact　the　front　tires　of　the　tractor　were　half…covered　with　water　when　Pappy　at　last　started　the　engine。　There　was　barely　enough　light　to　see。　The　trail　was　covered　with　water；　and　at　the　rate　the　flood　was　spreading　we'd　lose　the　lower　forty　by　sunrise。
　　　I　had　never　witnessed　such　silence　over　supper。　Not　even　Gran　could　find　anything　pleasant　to　say。　I　played　with　my　bu