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！
We retreated slowly。 My father and Pappy talked to Miguel and the Mexicans。 They were ready to leave； either to go home or to another farm where the cotton could be picked。 Who could blame them？ I hung around； just close enough to listen。 It was decided that Pappy would go with them to the back forty； where the ground was slightly higher； and there they would try to pick for a while。 The cotton was wet； but if the sun broke through； then maybe they could get a hundred pounds each。
My father would go to town； for the second day in a row； and check with the Co…op to see if there was another farm where our Mexicans might work。 There was much better land in the northeastern part of the county； higher fields away from creeks and away from the St。 Francis。 And there had been rumors that the folks up near Monette had not received as much rain as those of us in the southern end of the county。
I was in the kitchen with the women when my father relayed the new plans for the day。
〃That cotton's soakin' wet；〃 Gran said with disapproval。 〃They won't pick fifty pounds。 It's a waste of time。〃
Pappy was still outside and didn't hear these ments。 My father did； but he was in no mood to argue with his mother。 〃We'll try and move them to another farm；〃 he said。
〃Can I go to town？〃 I asked both parents。 I was quite anxious to leave because the alternative might be a forced march with the Mexicans to the back forty； where I'd be expected to drag a picking sack through mud and water while trying to pluck off soaked cotton bolls。
My mother smiled and said； 〃Yes； we need some paint。〃
Gran gave another look of disapproval。 Why were we spending money we didn't have on house paint when we were losing another crop？ However； the house was about half and half…a striking contrast between new white and old pale brown。 The project had to be finished。
Even my father seemed uneasy about the idea of parting with more cash； but he said to me； 〃You can go。〃
〃I'll stay here；〃 my mother said。 〃We need to put up some okra。〃
Another trip to town。 I was a happy boy。 No pressure to pick cotton； nothing to do but ride down the highway and dream of somehow obtaining candy or ice cream once I arrived in Black Oak。 I had to be careful； though； because I was the only happy Chandler。
The St。 Francis seemed ready to burst when we stopped at the bridge。 〃Reckon it's safe？〃 I asked my father。
〃Sure hope so。〃 He shifted into first； and we crept over the river； both of us too afraid to look down。 With the weight of our truck and the force of the river； the bridge shook when we reached the middle。 We picked up speed and were soon on the other side。 We both exhaled。
Losing the bridge would be a disaster。 We'd be isolated。 The waters would rise around our house； and we would have no place to go。 Even the Latchers would be better off。 They lived on the other side of the bridge； the same side as Black Oak and civilization。
We looked at the Latchers' land as we drove past。 〃Their house is flooded；〃 my father said； though we couldn't see that far。 Their crops were certainly gone。
Closer to town； there were Mexicans in the fields； though not as many as before。 We parked by the Co…op and went inside。 Some grim…faced farmers were sitting in the back； sipping coffee and talking about their problems。 My father gave me a nickel for a Coca…Cola； then he joined the farmers。
〃Y'all pickin' out there？〃 one asked him。
〃Maybe a little。〃
〃How's that creek？〃
〃She came over last night。 Moved more than half a mile before sunrise。 The lower forty's gone。〃
They observed a moment of silence for this terrible news； each of them staring at the floor and feeling pity for us Chandlers。 I hated farming even more。
〃I guess the river's holdin'；〃 another man said。
〃It is out our way；〃 my father said。 〃But it won't be long。〃
They all nodded and seemed to share this prediction。 〃Anybody else got water over the banks？〃 my father asked。
〃I hear the Tripletts lost twenty acres to Deer Creek； but I ain't seen it myself；〃 said one farmer。
〃All the creeks are backin' up；〃 another said。 〃Puttin' a lot of pressure on the St。 Francis。〃
More silence as they contemplated the creeks and the pressure。
〃Anybody need some Mexicans？〃 my father finally asked。 〃I got nine of 'em with nothin' to do。 They're ready to head home。〃
〃Any word from number ten？〃
〃Nope。 He's long gone； and we ain't had time to worry about him。〃
〃Riggs knows some farmers up north of Blytheville who'll take the Mexicans。〃
〃Where's Riggs？〃 my father asked。
〃He'll be back directly。〃
Hill people were leaving in droves； and the conversation settled on them and the Mexicans。 The exodus of labor was further evidence that the crops were finished。 The dreary mood in the rear of the Co…op grew even darker； so I left to check on Pearl and perhaps cajole a Tootsie Roll out of her。
Pop and Pearl's grocery store was closed； a first for me。 A small sign gave its hours as nine to six； Monday through Friday； and nine to nine on Saturday。 Closed on Sundays； but that went without saying。 Mr。 Sparky Dillon； the mechanic down at the Texaco place； came up behind me and said； 〃Ain't open till nine； son。〃
〃What time is it？〃 I asked。
〃Eight…twenty。〃
I'd never been in Black Oak at such an early hour。 I looked up and down Main Street； uncertain as to where I should shop next。 I settled on the drugstore； with the soda fountain in the rear； and I was walking toward it when I heard traffic。 Two trucks were approaching from the south； from our end of the county。 They were obviously hill people； going home； with their belongings stacked high and strapped to the frames of the trucks。 The family in the first truck could have passed for the Spruills； with teenagers squatting on an old mattress and gazing sadly at the stores as they passed。 The second truck was much nicer and cleaner。 It； too； was loaded with wooden boxes and burlap bags； but they were packed neatly together。 The husband drove； and the wife sat in the passenger's seat。 From the woman's lap a small child waved at me as they passed。 I waved back。
Gran always said that some of the hill people had nicer homes than we did。 I could never understand why they packed up and came down from the Ozarks to pick cotton。
I saw my father go into the hardware store； so I followed him。 He was in the back； near the paint； talking with the clerk。 Four gallons of white Pittsburgh Paint were on the counter。 I thought about the Pittsburgh Pirates。 They had finished last again in the National League。 Their only great player was Ralph Kiner； who'd hit thirty…seven home runs。
Someday I would play in Pittsburgh。 I would proudly wear my Cardinal red and crush the lowly Pirates。
It had taken all the paint we had left to finish the rear of the house the day before。 The Mexicans were about to leave。 To me it made sense to buy more paint and take advantage of the free labor present on our farm。 Otherwise they'd be gone； and I'd once again get stuck with the entire project。
〃That's not enough paint；〃 I whispered to my father as the clerk added the bill。
〃It'll do for now；〃 he said with a frown。 The issue was money。
〃Ten dollars plus tax of thirty…six cents；〃 the clerk said。 My father reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin roll of bills。 He slowly counted them out； as if he didn't want to let go。
He stopped at ten…ten one…dollar bills。 When it was painfully clear he didn't have enough； he faked a laugh and said； 〃Looks like I just brought ten bucks。 I'll pay you the tax next time I'm in。〃
〃Sure； Mr。 Chandler；〃 the clerk said。
They carried two gallons each and loaded the paint into the back of our truck。 Mr。 Riggs was back at the Co…op； so my father went to have their talk about our Mexicans。 I returned to the hardware store and went straight to the clerk。
〃How much is two gallons？〃 I asked。
〃Two…fifty a gallon； total of five dollars。〃
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my money。 〃Here's five；〃 I said as I handed him the bills。 At first he didn't want to take it。
〃Did you pick cotton for that money？〃 he asked。
〃Yes sir。〃
〃Does your daddy know you're buyin' paint？〃
〃Not yet。〃
〃What're y'all paintin' out there？〃
〃Our house。〃
〃Why you doin' that？〃
〃 'Cause it ain't never been painted。〃
He reluctantly took my money。 〃Plus eighteen cents for tax；〃 he said。 I handed him a dollar bill and said； 〃How much does my daddy owe for the tax？〃
〃Thirty…six cents。〃
〃Take it out of this。〃
〃Okay。〃 He gave me the change； then loaded two more gallons into our truck。 I stood on the sidewalk watching our paint as if someone might try to steal it。
Next to Pop and Pearl's I saw Mr。 Lynch Thornton； the postmaster； unlock the door to the post office and step inside。 I walked toward him； keeping a watchful eye on the truck。 Mr。 Thornton was usually a cranky sort； and many believed that this was because he was married to a woman who had a problem with whiskey。 All forms of alcohol were frowned upon by almost everyone in Black Oak。 The county was dry。 The nearest liquor store was in Blytheville； though there were some bootleggers in the area