jg.paintedhouse-第65章
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lse。 Her daughter hadn't been kidnapped； she'd run off with a Mexican； and she was going to marry him。
〃They gonna stay in Chicago？〃 Stick asked。
〃Don't say。 Just says up North。〃
The Spruills began drifting away； backpedaling in retreat。 My father thanked Stick and the other deputy for bringing our truck home。
〃You're gettin' more rain than most folks；〃 Stick said as he opened the door to his patrol car。
〃It's wet all over；〃 Pappy shot back。
〃River's risin' to the north；〃 Stick said； as if he were an expert。 〃More rain's on the way。〃
〃Thanks； Stick；〃 Pappy said。
Stick and the other deputy got into the patrol car； Stick settling himself behind the wheel。 Just as he was about to close the door he jumped out and said； 〃Say； Eli； I called the sheriff up at Eureka Springs。 He ain't seen the big one； Hank。 The boy shoulda been home by now； don't you think？〃
〃I reckon。 He left a week ago。〃
〃Wonder where he is？〃
〃Ain't none of my concern；〃 Pappy said。
〃I ain't through with him； you know。 When I find him； I'm gonna put his big ass in the jail in Jonesboro； and we're gonna have us a trial。〃
〃You do that； Stick；〃 Pappy said； then turned around。 〃You do that。〃
Stick's bald tires slipped and spun in the mud； but he finally got to the road。 My mother and Gran returned to the kitchen to start cooking。
Pappy got his tools and spread them on the tailgate of the truck。 He opened the hood and began a thorough inspection of the engine I sat on the fender； handing him wrenches； watching every move。
〃Why would a nice girl like Tally want to marry a Mexican？〃 I asked。
Pappy was tightening a fan belt。 There was little doubt that Cowboy hadn't bothered to stop； open the hood； and meddle with the engine while he was fleeing with Tally； but Pappy nonetheless was pelled to adjust and fix and tinker as if the vehicle had been sabotaged。 〃Women；〃 he said。
〃What do you mean？〃
〃Women do stupid things。〃
I waited for clarification； but his answer was plete。
〃I don't understand；〃 I finally said。
〃Neither do I。 Neither will you。 You're not supposed to understand women。〃
He removed the air filter and gazed with suspicion at the carburetor。 For a moment it looked as if he'd found evidence of tampering； but then he turned a screw and seemed content。
〃You think they'll ever find her？〃 I asked。
〃They ain't lookin'。 We got the truck back； so there's no crime； no police tryin' to find 'em。 I doubt if the Spruills'll go look for 'em。 Why bother？ If they got lucky and found 'em； what're they gonna do？〃
〃Can't they make her e home？〃
〃No。 Once she gets married； then she's an adult。 You can't make a married woman do a damned thing。〃
He cranked the engine and listened to it idle。 It sounded the same to me； but Pappy thought he heard a new rattle。 〃Let's take it for spin；〃 he said。 Wasting gasoline was a sin in Pappy's book； but he seemed anxious to burn a little of the free stuff Tally and Cowboy had left behind。
We got in and backed onto the road。 I was sitting where Tally had been； just hours earlier； when they'd sneaked away during the storm。 I thought of nothing but her； and I was as bewildered as ever。
The road was too wet and muddy to allow Pappy to reach his perfect speed of thirty…seven miles an hour； but he still thought he could tell that something was wrong with the engine。 We stopped at the bridge and looked at the river。 The gravel bars and sandbars were gone； there was nothing but water between the banks…water and debris from upriver。 It rushed by； faster than I had ever seen it。 Pappy's stick； his flood gauge； was long gone； washed away by the swirling currents。 We didn't need it to tell us that the St。 Francis was about to flood。
Pappy seemed mesmerized by the water and its noise。 I couldn't tell if he wanted to curse or cry。 Neither would've helped； of course； and I think that Pappy； for perhaps the first time； realized he was about to lose another crop。
Whatever was wrong with the engine had fixed itself by the time we returned home。 Pappy announced over supper that the truck was as good as ever； whereupon we launched into a long and creative discussion about Tally and Cowboy and where they might be and what they might be doing。 My father had heard that there were a lot of Mexicans up in Chicago； and he guessed that Cowboy and his new bride would simply blend into that vast city and never be seen again。
I was so worried about Tally that I could barely force down my food。
Late the next morning； with the sun trying its best to peek through the clouds； we returned to the fields to pick cotton。 We were tired of sitting around the house watching the skies。 Even I wanted to go to the fields。
The Mexicans were especially anxious to work。 They were； after all； two thousand miles from home and not getting paid。
But the cotton was too wet and the ground was too soft。 Mud caked on my boots； and it stuck to my picking sack； so that after an hour I felt as if I were dragging a tree trunk。 We quit after two hours and left for the house； a sad and dispirited group。
The Spruills had had enough。 It came as no surprise to see them breaking camp。 They did so slowly； as if they were only reluctantly admitting defeat。 Mr。 Spruill told Pappy that there was no use in their staying if they couldn't work。 They were tired of the rains and we couldn't blame them。 They'd been camping out for six weeks in our front yard。 Their old tents and tarps were sagging under the weight of all the rain。 The mattresses they slept on were half…exposed to the weather and splattered with mud。 I would've left a long time before。
We sat on the porch and watched them gather their junk and pack it all haphazardly into the truck and trailer。 There would be more room now with Hank and Tally gone。
I was suddenly frightened by their leaving。 They would be home soon； and Hank wouldn't be there。 They would wait； then search； then start asking questions。 I wasn't sure if and how this might one day affect me； but I was scared just the same。
My mother forced me into the garden； where we gathered enough food for twenty people。 We washed the corn； cucumbers； tomatoes； okra； and greens in the kitchen sink； then she carefully arranged it all in a cardboard box。 Gran put together a dozen eggs； two pounds of country ham； a pound of butter； and two quart jars of strawberry preserves。 The Spruills would not leave without food for the trip。
By mid…afternoon they had finished packing。 Their truck and trailer were hopelessly overloaded…boxes and burlap sacks clung to the sides； loosely secured by baling wire and destined to fall off。 When it was apparent they were about to leave； we walked as a family down the front steps and across the yard to say our farewells。 Mr。 and Mrs。 Spruill met us and accepted our food。 They apologized for leaving before the cotton was picked； but we all knew there was a good chance the crops were finished anyway。 They tried to smile and be gracious； but their pain was obvious。 Watching them； I couldn't help but think that they would always regret the day they decided to work on our farm。 If they had picked another one； Tally wouldn't have met Cowboy。 And Hank might still be alive； though given his lust for violence he was probably doomed to an early death。 〃He who lives by the sword dies by the sword；〃 Gran was fond of quoting。
I felt guilty about all the evil thoughts I'd held against them。 And I felt like a thief because I knew the truth about Hank； and they didn't。
I said good…bye to Bo and Dale； neither of whom had much to say。 Trot was hiding behind the trailer。 As the farewells were winding down； he shuffled toward me and mumbled something I did not understand。 Then he stuck out his hand and offered me his paintbrush。 I had no choice but to take it。
The exchange was witnessed by the adults； and for a moment nothing was said。
〃Over here；〃 Trot grunted； and he pointed to their truck。 Bo took the cue and reached for something just inside the tailgate。 He pulled forward a gallon of white enamel； a clean unopened bucket with a bright Pittsburgh Paint logo across the front。 He set it on the ground in front of me； then prod
