jg.paintedhouse-第9部分

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d　attacked　the　first　boll　of　cotton。　It　was　damp　from　the　dew；　and　that　was　one　reason　we　started　so　early。　For　the　first　hour　or　so；　before　the　sun　got　too　high　and　baked　everything；　the　cotton　was　soft　and　gentle　to　our　hands。　Later；　after　it　was　dumped　into　the　trailer；　it　would　dry　and　could　be　easily　ginned。　Cotton　soaked　with　rainwater　could　not　be　ginned；　something　every　farmer　had　learned　the　hard　way。
　　　I　picked　as　fast　as　possible；　with　both　hands；　and　stuffed　the　cotton　into　the　sack。　I　had　to　be　careful；　though。　Either　Pappy　or　my　father；　or　possibly　both　of　them；　would　inspect　my　row　at　some　point　during　the　morning。　If　I　left　too　much　cotton　in　the　bolls；　then　I　would　be　reprimanded。　The　severity　of　the　scolding　would　be　determined　by　how　close　my　mother　was　to　me　at　that　particular　moment。
　　　As　deftly　as　I　could；　I　worked　my　small　hands　through　the　maze　of　stalks；　grabbing　the　bolls；　avoiding　if　possible　the　burrs　because　they　were　pointed　and　could　draw　blood。　I　bobbed　and　weaved　and　inched　along；　falling　farther　behind　my　father　and　Pappy。
　　　Our　cotton　was　so　thick　that　the　stalks　from　each　row　intertwined。　They　brushed　against　my　face。　After　the　incident　with　the　rat　snake；　I　watched　every　step　around　our　farm；　especially　in　the　fields；　since　there　were　cottonmouths　near　the　river。　I'd　seen　plenty　of　them　from　the　back　of　the　John　Deere　when　we　were　plowing　and　planting。
　　　Before　long　I　was　all　alone；　a　child　left　behind　by　those　with　quicker　hands　and　stronger　backs。　The　sun　was　a　bright　orange　ball；　rising　fast　into　position　to　sear　the　land　for　another　day。　When　my　father　and　Pappy　were　out　of　sight；　I　decided　to　take　my　first　break。　Tally　was　the　nearest　person。　She　was　five　rows　over　and　fifty　feet　in　front　of　me。　I　could　barely　see　her　faded　denim　bonnet　above　the　cotton。
　　　Under　the　shade　of　the　stalks；　I　stretched　out　on　my　cotton　sack；　which　after　an　hour　was　depressingly　flat。　There　were　a　few　soft　lumps；　but　nothing　significant。　The　year　before；　I'd　been　expected　to　pick　fifty　pounds　a　day；　and　my　fear　was　that　this　quota　was　about　to　be　increased。
　　　Lying　on　my　back；　I　watched　through　the　stalks　the　perfectly　clear　sky；　hoped　for　clouds；　and　dreamed　of　money。　Every　August　we　received　by　mail　the　latest　edition　of　the　Sears；　Roebuck　catalog；　and　few　events　were　more　momentous；　at　least　in　my　life。　It　came　in　a　brown　wrapper；　all　the　way　from　Chicago；　and　was　required　by　Gran　to　be　kept　at　the　end　of　the　kitchen　table；　next　to　the　radio　and　the　family　Bible。　The　women　studied　the　clothes　and　the　home　furnishings。　The　men　scrutinized　the　tools　and　auto　supplies。　But　I　dwelt　on　the　important　sections…toys　and　sporting　goods。　I　made　secret　Christmas　lists　in　my　mind。　I　was　afraid　to　write　down　all　the　things　I　dreamed　of。　Someone　might　find　such　a　list　and　think　I　was　either　hopelessly　greedy　or　mentally　ill。
　　　On　page　308　of　the　current　catalog　was　an　incredible　ad　for　baseball　warm…up　jackets。　There　was　one　for　almost　every　professional　team。　What　made　the　ad　so　amazing　was　that　the　young　man　doing　the　modeling　was　wearing　a　Cardinals　jacket；　and　it　was　in　color。　A　bright　Cardinal　red；　in　some　type　of　shiny　fabric；　white　buttons　down　the　front。　Of　all　the　teams；　someone　with　uncanny　wisdom　at　Sears；　Roebuck　had　picked　the　Cardinals　to　display。
　　　It　cost　7。50；　plus　shipping。　And　it　came　in　children's　sizes；　which　presented　another　quandary　because　I　was　bound　to　grow　and　I　wanted　to　wear　the　jacket　for　the　rest　of　my　life。
　　　Ten　days　of　hard　labor；　and　I'd　have　enough　money　to　purchase　the　jacket。　I　was　certain　nothing　like　it　had　ever　been　seen　in　Black　Oak；　Arkansas。　My　mother　said　it　was　a　bit　gaudy；　whatever　that　meant。　My　father　said　I　needed　boots。　Pappy　thought　it　was　a　waste　of　money；　but　I　could　tell　he　secretly　admired　it。
　　　At　the　first　hint　of　cool　weather　I　would　wear　the　jacket　to　school　every　day；　and　to　church　on　Sundays。　I　would　wear　it　to　town　on　Saturdays；　a　bolt　of　bright　red　amid　the　drearily　clad　throngs　loitering　on　the　sidewalks。　I　would　wear　it　everywhere；　and　I'd　be　the　envy　of　every　kid　in　Black　Oak　（and　a　lot　of　adults；　too）。
　　　They　would　never　have　the　chance　to　play　for　the　Cardinals。　I；　on　the　other　hand；　would　bee　famous　in　St。　Louis。　It　was　important　to　start　looking　the　part。
　　　〃Lucas！〃　a　stern　voice　shot　through　the　stillness　of　the　fields。　Stalks　were　snapping　nearby。
　　　〃Yes　sir；〃　I　said；　jumping　to　my　feet；　keeping　low；　thrusting　my　hands　at　the　nearest　bolls　of　cotton。
　　　My　father　was　suddenly　standing　over　me。　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　he　asked。
　　　〃I　had　to　pee；〃　I　said；　without　stopping　my　hands。
　　　〃It　took　a　long　time；〃　he　said；　unconvinced。
　　　〃Yes　sir。　It's　all　that　coffee。〃　I　looked　up　at　him。　He　knew　the　truth。
　　　〃Try　to　keep　up；〃　he　said；　turning　around　and　walking　away。
　　　〃Yes　sir；〃　I　said　to　his　back；　knowing　I　could　never　keep　up　with　him。
　　　
　　　A　twelve…foot　sack　like　the　adults　used　held　about　sixty　pounds　of　cotton；　so　by　eight…thirty　or　nine　o'clock　the　men　were　ready　to　weigh。　Pappy　and　my　father　were　in　charge　of　the　scales；　which　hung　from　the　end　of　the　trailer。　The　sacks　were　hoisted　upward　to　one　of　them。　The　straps　were　looped　over　the　hooks　at　the　bottom　of　the　scales。　The　needle　sprang　around　like　the　long　hand　of　a　large　clock。　Everyone　could　see　how　much　each　person　picked。
　　　Pappy　recorded　the　data　in　a　small　book　near　the　scales。　Then　the　cotton　sack　was　shoved　even　higher　and　emptied　into　the　trailer。　No　time　for　a　rest。　You　caught　the　empty　sack　when　it　was　tossed　down。　You　selected　another　row　and　disappeared　for　another　two　hours。
　　　I　was　in　the　middle　of　an　endless　row　of　cotton；　sweating；　boiling　in　the　sun；　bending　at　the　shoulders；　trying　to　be　fast　with　my　hands；　and　stopping　occasionally　to　monitor　the　movements　of　Pappy　and　my　father　so　that　maybe　I　could　arrange　another　nap。　But　there　was　never　an　opportunity　to　drop　my　sack。　Instead；　I　plowed　ahead；　working　hard；　waiting　for　the　sack　to　get　heavy；　and　wondering　for　the　first　time　if　I　really　needed　the　Cardinals　jacket。
　　　After　an　eternity　alone　in　the　fields；　I　heard　the　John　Deere　fire　up；　and　I　knew　it　was　time　for　lunch。　Though　I　had　not　pleted　my　first　row；　I　didn't　really　care　about　my　lack　of　progress。　We　met　at　the　tractor；　and　I　saw　Trot　curled　in　a　knot　on　the　flat　deck　trailer。　Mrs。　Spruill　and　Tally　were　patting　him。　At　first　I　thought　he　might　be　dead；　then　he　moved　a　little。　〃The　heat　got　him；〃　my　father　whispered　to　me；　as　he　took　my　sack　and　whirled　it　around　over　his　shoulder　as　if　it　were　empty。
　　　I　followed　him　to　the　scales；　where　Pappy　quickly　weighed　it。　All　that　back…numbing　labor　for　thirty…one　pounds　of　cotton。
　　　When　the　Mexicans　and　Spruills　were　accounted　for；　we　all　headed　for　the　house。　Lunch　was　at　noon　sharp。　My　mother　and　Gran　had　left　the　fields　an　hour　earlier　to　prepare　it。
　　　From　my　perch　on　the　John　Deere；　I　clutched　the　umbrella　stand　with　my　scratched　and　sore　left　hand　and　watched　the　field　workers　bounce　along。　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Spruill　were　holding　Trot；　who　was　still　lifeless　and　pale。　Tally　sat　nearby；　her　long　legs　stretched　across　the　deck　of　the　trailer。　Bo；　Dale；　and　Hank　seemed　unconcerned　about　poor　Trot。　Like　everyone　else；　they　were　hot　and　tired　and　ready　for　a　break。
　　　On　the　other　side；　the　Mexicans　sat　in　a　row；　shoulder　to　shoulder；　feet　hanging　off　the　side　and　almost　dragging　the　ground。　A　couple　of　them　wore　no　shoes　or　boots。
　　　When　we　were　nearly　at　the　barn；　I　saw　something　that　at　first　I　couldn't　believe。　Cowboy；　sitting　at　the　very　end　of　the　short　trailer；　turned　quickly；　and　glanced　at　Tally。　She　seemed　to　have　been　waiting　for　him　to　look；　because　she　gave　him　one　of　her　pretty　little　smiles；　similar　to　the　ones　I'd　been　getting。　Though　he　didn't　return　the　smile；　it　was　obvious　he　was　pleased。
　　　It　happened　in　a　flash；　and　nobody　saw　it　but　me。
　
　
　Chapter　5
　　　
　　　According　to　Gran　and　my　mother；　conspiring　together；　the　early　afternoon　nap　was　crucial　to　the　proper　growth　of　a　child。　I　believed　this　only　when　we　were　picking　cotton。　For　the　rest　of　the　year；　I　fought　a　nap　with　as　much　vigor　as　I　put　into　planning　my　baseball　career。
　　　But　during　the