jg.paintedhouse-第20章
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〃You're wele to sit on the porch；〃 Pappy said； then returned to the kitchen table。 When he took his seat； the others began eating again。 I now had a knot in my throat the size of a baseball； and the fried chicken simply wouldn't go down。
〃Has he had lunch？〃 Gran whispered across the table。
Pappy shrugged as if he couldn't have cared less。 It was almost two…thirty。 If Stick hadn't found something to eat by then； why should we worry？
But Gran cared。 She stood and pulled a plate from the cabinet。 As we watched； she covered it with potatoes and gravy； sliced tomatoes and cucumbers； two biscuits that she carefully buttered； and a thigh and a breast。 Then she filled a tall glass with iced tea and took it to the back porch。 Again； we heard every word。
〃Here； Stick；〃 she said。 〃Nobody misses a meal around here。〃
〃Thanks； Miss Ruth； but I've already ate。〃
〃Then eat again。〃
〃I really shouldn't。〃
We knew that by then Stick's fleshy nostrils had caught a whiff of the chicken and the biscuits。
〃Thank you； Miss Ruth。 This is mighty kind。〃
We were not surprised when she returned empty…handed。 Pappy was angry but managed to hold his tongue。 Stick was there to cause trouble； to interfere with our farmhands； which meant he was threatening our cotton。 Why feed him？
We ate in silence； which allowed me a few moments to collect my thoughts。 Since I didn't want to act suspiciously； I forced the food into my mouth and chewed as slowly as possible。
I wasn't sure what the truth was； nor could I distinguish right from wrong。 The Siscos were ganging up on the poor hillbilly when Hank went to his rescue。 There were three Siscos； and Hank was alone。 He had quickly stopped them； and the fight should've been over。 Why did he pick up that piece of wood？ It was easy to assume the Siscos were always wrong； but Hank had won the fight long before he began clubbing them。
I thought about Dewayne and our secret pact。 Silence and ignorance were still the best strategies； I decided。
We didn't want Stick to hear us； so we said nothing throughout the entire meal。 Pappy ate slower than usual； because he wanted Stick to sit and wait and stew； and maybe get mad and leave。 I doubted if the delay bothered Stick。 I could almost hear him licking his plate。
My father gazed at the table as he chewed； his mind seemingly off on the other side of the world； probably Korea。 Both my mother and Gran looked very sad； which was not unusual after the verbal beating we received each week from Brother Akers。 That's another reason I always tried to sleep during his sermons。
The women had much more sympathy for Jerry Sisco。 As the hours passed； his death became sadder。 His meanness and other undesirable qualities were slowly forgotten。 He was； after all； a local boy； someone we knew； if only in passing； and he'd met a terrible end。
And his killer slept in our front yard。
We heard noises。 The Spruills were back from the river。
The inquest took place under our tallest pin oak； about halfway between the front porch and Camp Spruill。 The men gathered first； Pappy and my father stretching and rubbing their stomachs； and Stick looking particularly well fed。 He carried a sizable belly； which pulled his brown shirt at the buttons； and it was obvious that Stick did not spend his days in the cotton fields。 Pappy said he was lazy as hell and slept most of the time in his patrol car； under a shade tree near Gurdy Stone's hot dog stand on the edge of town。
From the other end of the yard came the Spruills； all of them； with Mr。 Spruill leading the pack and Trot bringing up the rear； twisting and snuffling along in his now familiar gait。 I walked behind Gran and my mother； peeking between them and trying to keep my distance。 Only the Mexicans were absent。
A loose huddle formed around Stick； the Spruills loitering on one side； the Chandlers hanging around the other； though when it came down to it； we were all on the same side。 I was not pleased to be allied with Hank Spruill； but the cotton was more important than anything else。
Pappy introduced Stick to Mr。 Spruill； who awkwardly shook Stick's hand and then took a few steps back。 It looked like the Spruills were expecting the worst； and I tried to remember if any of them had witnessed the fight。 There'd been a large crowd and things had happened so fast。 Dewayne and I had been mesmerized by the bloodletting。 I couldn't recall really noticing the faces of the other spectators。
Stick worked a blade of grass that was protruding from one corner of his mouth； and with both thumbs hung in his pants pockets； he studied our hill people。 Hank leaned against the pin oak； sneering at anybody who dared to look at him。
〃Had a big fight in town yesterday behind the Co…op；〃 Stick announced in the direction of the Spruills。 Mr。 Spruill nodded but said nothing。 〃Some local boys got into it with a fella from the hills。 One of 'em； Jerry Sisco； died this mornin' in the hospital in Jonesboro。 Fractured skull。〃
Every Spruill began fidgeting； except Hank； who didn't move。 They obviously had not heard the latest on Jerry Sisco。
Stick spat and shifted his weight； and he seemed to enjoy being the man in the middle； the voice of authority with a badge and a gun。 〃And so I'm lookin' around； askin' questions； just tryin' to find out who was involved。〃
〃Ain't none of us；〃 Mr。 Spruill said。 〃We're peaceful folks。〃
〃Is that so？〃
〃Yes sir。〃
〃Did y'all go to town yesterday？〃
〃We did。〃
Now that the lying had started； I peeked from between the two women for a better look at the Spruills。 They were clearly frightened。 Bo and Dale stood close together； their eyes darting around。 Tally studied the dirt at her bare feet； unwilling to look at us。 Mr。 and Mrs。 Spruill seemed to be looking for friendly faces。 Trot； of course； was in another world。
〃You got a boy named Hank？〃 Stick asked。
〃Maybe；〃 Mr。 Spruill said。
〃Don't play games with me；〃 Stick growled with sudden anger。 〃I ask you a question； you give me a straight answer。 We got a jail over in Jonesboro with lots of room。 I can take the whole family in for questions。 You understand？〃
〃I'm Hank Spruill！〃 came a thunderous voice。 Hank strutted through the huddle and stood within striking distance of Stick； who was much smaller but managed to maintain his cockiness。
Stick studied him for a second； then asked； 〃Did you go to town yesterday？〃
〃I did。〃
〃Did you get in a fight behind the Co…op？〃
〃Nope。 I stopped a fight。〃
〃Did you beat up the Sisco boys？〃
〃I don't know their names。 There was two of 'em beatin' up a boy from the hills。 I stopped it。〃
Hank's face was smug。 He showed no fear； and I grudgingly admired him for the way he confronted the law。
The deputy looked around the crowd； and his eyes stopped with Pappy。 Stick was hot on the trail and quite proud of himself。 With his tongue he moved the blade of grass to the other corner of his mouth； then looked up at Hank again。
〃Did you use a stick of wood？〃
〃Didn't need to。〃
〃Answer the question。 Did you use a stick of wood？〃
Without hesitating； Hank said； 〃Nope。 They had a two…by…four。〃
This； of course； conflicted with what someone else had reported to Stick。 〃I guess I better take you in；〃 Stick said； but made no move for the handcuffs dangling from his belt。
Mr。 Spruill took a step forward and said to Pappy； 〃If he leaves； we leave； too。 Right now。〃
Pappy was prepared for this。 Hill people were noted for their ability to break camp and disappear quickly； and none of us doubted Mr。 Spruill meant what he said。 They would be gone in an hour； back to Eureka Springs； back to their mountains and their moonshine。 It would be virtually impossible to harvest eighty acres of cotton with just the Mexicans to help us。 Every pound was crucial。 Every hand。
〃Slow down； Stick；〃 Pappy said。 〃Let's talk about this。 You and I both know the Siscos are good for no thin'。 They fight often； and they fight dirty。 Seems to me they picked on the wrong fella。〃
〃I got a dead body； Eli。 You understand？〃
〃Two against one sounds like self…defense to me。 Nothin' fair about two against one。〃
〃But look how big
