jg.paintedhouse-第12部分

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owing　him　every　Saturday　up　and　down　Main　Street；　and　always　asking　if　he　would　sit　by　her　at　the　movies。
　　　Dewayne　despised　her。　When　a　pack　of　Mexicans　walked　by；　we　got　lost　in　the　middle　of　them。
　　　A　fight　erupted　behind　the　Co…op；　a　popular　spot　for　the　older　boys　to　gather　and　trade　punches。　It　happened　every　Saturday；　and　nothing　electrified　Black　Oak　like　a　good　fight。　The　crowd　pushed　its　way　through　a　wide　alley　next　to　the　Co…op；　and　in　the　rush　I　heard　someone　say；　〃I'll　bet　it's　a　Sisco。〃
　　　My　mother　had　warned　me　against　watching　fights　behind　the　Co…op；　but　it　wasn't　a　strict　prohibition　because　I　knew　she　wouldn't　be　there。　No　proper　female　would　dare　to　be　caught　watching　a　fight。　Dewayne　and　I　snaked　our　way　through　the　mob；　anxious　to　see　some　violence。
　　　The　Siscos　were　dirt…poor　sharecroppers　who　lived　less　than　a　mile　from　town。　They　were　always　around　on　Saturday。　No　one　was　sure　how　many　kids　were　in　the　family；　but　they　could　all　fight。　Their　father　was　a　drunk　who　beat　them；　and　their　mother　had　once　whipped　a　fully　armed　deputy　who　was　trying　to　arrest　her　husband。　Broke　his　arm　and　his　nose。　The　deputy　left　town　in　disgrace。　The　oldest　Sisco　was　in　prison　for　killing　a　man　in　Jonesboro。
　　　The　Sisco　kids　didn't　go　to　school　or　church；　so　I　managed　to　avoid　them。　Sure　enough；　when　we　got　close　and　peeked　through　the　spectators；　there　was　Jerry　Sisco　punching　a　stranger　in　the　face。
　　　〃Who's　that？〃　I　asked　Dewayne。　The　crowd　was　yelling　for　each　fighter　to　hurry　up　and　maim　the　other。
　　　〃Don't　know；〃　Dewayne　said。　〃Probably　a　hillbilly。〃
　　　That　made　sense。　With　the　county　full　of　hill　people　picking　cotton；　it　was　only　logical　that　the　Siscos　would　start　a　fight　with　someone　who　didn't　know　them。　The　locals　knew　better。　The　stranger's　face　was　puffy；　and　there　was　blood　dripping　from　his　nose。　Jerry　Sisco　ripped　a　sharp　right　to　his　teeth　and　knocked　the　man　down。
　　　A　whole　gang　of　Siscos　and　their　ilk　were　in　one　corner；　laughing；　and　probably　drinking。　They　were　shaggy　and　dirty　with　ragged　clothes　and　only　a　few　had　shoes。　Their　toughness　was　legendary。　They　were　lean　and　hungry　and　fought　with　every　dirty　trick　in　the　hook。　The　year　before；　Billy　Sisco　had　almost　killed　a　Mexican　in　a　fight　behind　the　gin。
　　　On　the　other　side　of　the　makeshift　arena　was　a　group　of　hill　people；　all…yelling　for　their　man…〃Doyle；〃　it　turned　out…to　get　up　and　do　something。　Doyle　was　rubbing　his　chin　when　he　jumped　up　and　made　a　charge。　He　managed　to　ram　his　head　into　Jerry　Sisco's　stomach；　sending　both　of　them　to　the　ground。　This　brought　a　cheer　from　the　hill　people。　The　rest　of　us　wanted　to　cheer；　too；　but　we　didn't　want　to　upset　the　Siscos。　This　was　their　game；　and　they'd　e　after　anybody。
　　　The　two　fighters　clutched　and　clawed　and　rolled　around　in　the　dirt　like　wild　animals；　as　the　yelling　got　louder。　Doyle　suddenly　cocked　his　right　hand　and　landed　a　perfect　punch　in　the　middle　of　Jerry　Sisco's　face；　sending　blood　everywhere。　Jerry　was　still　for　a　split　second；　and　we　were　all　secretly　hoping　that　perhaps　a　Sisco　had　met　his　match。　Doyle　was　about　to　land　another　punch　when　Billy　Sisco　abruptly　charged　from　the　pack　and　kicked　Doyle　square　in　the　back。　Doyle　shrieked　like　a　wounded　dog　and　rolled　to　the　ground；　where　both　Siscos　were　immediately　on　him；　kicking　and　pounding　him。
　　　Doyle　was　about　to　be　slaughtered。　Though　there　was　nothing　fair　about　it；　it　was　simply　the　risk　you　ran　if　you　fought　a　Sisco。　The　hill　people　were　silent；　and　the　locals　watched　without　taking　a　step　forward。
　　　Then　the　two　Siscos　dragged　Doyle　to　his　feet；　and　with　all　the　patience　of　an　executioner；　Jerry　kicked　him　in　the　groin。　Doyle　screamed　and　dropped　to　the　ground。　The　Siscos　were　delirious　with　laughter。
　　　The　Siscos　were　in　the　process　of　picking　him　up　again　when　Mr。　Hank　Spruill；　he　of　the　tree…trunk　neck；　stepped　out　from　the　crowd　and　hit　Jerry　hard；　causing　him　to　fall。　Quick　as　a　cat；　Billy　Sisco　threw　a　left　jab　that　popped　Hank　in　the　jaw；　but　a　curious　thing　happened。　The　jab　didn't　phase　Hank　Spruill。　He　turned　around　and　grabbed　Billy　by　his　hair　and　without　any　apparent　effort　spun　him　around　and　flung　him　into　the　grouping　of　Siscos　in　the　crowd。　From　the　strewn　pack　came　a　new　Sisco；　Bobby；　aged　no　more　than　sixteen；　but　just　as　mean　as　his　brothers。
　　　Three　Siscos　against　Hank　Spruill。
　　　As　Jerry　was　getting　to　his　feet；　Hank；　with　unbelievable　speed；　kicked　him　in　the　ribs　so　hard　that　we　heard　cracking。　Then　Hank　turned　and　slapped　Bobby　with　the　back　of　his　hand；　knocking　him　down；　and　kicked　him　in　the　teeth。　By　this　time　Billy　was　making　another　lunge；　and　Hank；　like　a　circus　strongman；　lifted　the　much　skinnier　boy　into　the　air　and　flipped　him　into　the　side　of　the　Co…op；　where　he　crashed　loudly；　rattling　the　boards　and　windows；　before　falling　to　the　pavement　on　his　head。　I　couldn't　have　tossed　a　baseball　any　easier。
　　　When　Billy　hit　the　ground；　Hank　took　him　by　the　throat　and　dragged　him　back　into　the　center　of　the　arena；　where　Bobby　was　on　all　fours；　struggling　to　get　to　his　feet。　Jerry　was　crumpled　to　one　side；　clutching　his　ribs　and　whimpering。
　　　Hank　kicked　Bobby　between　the　legs。　When　the　boy　yelped；　Hank　let　out　a　hideous　laugh。
　　　He　then　clutched　Billy　by　the　throat　and　began　lashing　his　face　with　the　back　of　his　right　hand。　Blood　was　spurting　everywhere；　it　covered　Billy's　face　and　was　pouring　down　his　chest。
　　　Finally；　Hank　released　Billy　and　turned　to　the　rest　of　the　Siscos。　〃Anybody　want　some　more！〃　he　shouted。　〃e　on！　Get　you　some！〃
　　　The　other　Siscos　cowered　behind　one　another　while　their　three　heroes　floundered　in　the　dirt。
　　　The　fight　should've　been　over；　but　Hank　had　other　plans。　With　delight　and　deliberation；　he　kicked　each　of　the　three　in　their　faces　and　heads　until　they　stopped　moving　and　groaning。　The　crowd　began　to　disperse。
　　　〃Let's　go；〃　a　man　said　from　behind　me。　〃You　kids　don't　need　to　see　this。〃　But　I　couldn't　move。
　　　Then　Hank　found　a　broken　piece　of　an　old　two…by…four。　For　a　moment　the　crowd　stopped　its　exit　to　watch　with　morbid　curiosity。
　　　When　Hank　hit　Jerry　across　the　nose；　someone　in　the　crowd　said；　〃Oh　my　God。〃
　　　Another　voice　in　the　mob　said　something　about　finding　the　sheriff。
　　　〃Let's　get　outta　here；〃　an　old　farmer　said；　and　the　crowd　began　leaving　again；　this　time　a　little　quicker。
　　　Hank　still　wasn't　finished。　His　face　was　red　with　anger；　his　eyes　flashed　like　a　demon's。　He　kept　pounding　them　until　the　old　two…by…four　began　to　shatter　into　small　pieces。
　　　I　didn't　see　any　of　the　other　Spruills　in　the　crowd。　As　the　beating　became　a　butchering；　everyone　fled。　No　one　in　Black　Oak　wanted　to　tangle　with　the　Siscos。　And　now　nobody　wanted　to　face　this　madman　from　the　hills。
　　　When　we　were　back　on　the　sidewalk；　those　of　us　who'd　seen　the　fight　were　silent。　It　was　still　happening。　I　wondered　if　Hank　would　beat　them　until　they　were　dead。
　　　Neither　Dewayne　nor　I　said　a　word　as　we　darted　through　the　crowd　and　ran　toward　the　movie　house。
　　　
　　　The　Saturday　afternoon　movie　was　a　special　time　for　all　of　us　farm　kids。　We　didn't　have　televisions；　and　entertainment　was　considered　sinful。　For　two　hours　we　were　transported　from　the　harshness　of　life　in　the　cotton　patch　to　a　fantasy　land　where　the　good　guys　always　won。　Through　the　movies　we　learned　how　criminals　operated；　how　cops　caught　them；　how　wars　were　fought　and　won；　how　history　was　made　in　the　Wild　West。　It　was　even　through　a　movie　that　I　learned　the　sad　truth　that　the　South　had；　in　fact；　not　won　the　Civil　War；　contrary　to　what　I'd　been　told　both　at　home　and　at　school。
　　　But　this　Saturday　the　Gene　Autry　western　bored　Dewayne　and　me。　Every　time　there　was　a　fistfight　on　the　screen；　I　thought　of　Hank　Spruill　and　could　see　him　still　out　there　behind　the　Co…op　hammering　the　Siscos。　Autry's　scuffles　were　tame　pared　to　the　real…life　carnage　we'd　just　witnessed。　The　movie　was　almost　over　before　I　mustered　the　courage　to　tell　Dewayne。
　　　〃That　big　hillbilly　we　saw　beat　the　Siscos？〃　I　whispered。　〃He's　working　on　our　farm。〃
　　　〃You　know　him？〃　he　whispered　back；　disbelieving。
　　　〃Yep。　Know　him　real　well。〃
　　　Dewayne　was　impressed　and　wanted　to　ask　more　questions；　but　the　place　was　packed　and　Mr。　Starnes；　the　manager；　enjoyed　patrolling　the　aisles　with　his　flashlight；　just　looking　for　trouble。　Any　kid　caught　talking　would　be　yanked　up　by　the　ear　and　ejected。　Also；　Brenda　with　the　freckles　had　managed　to　get　the　seat　directly　behind　Dewayne；　making　us　both　unfortable。
　　　There　were　a　few　adults　sprinkled　throughout　the　audience；　but　they　were　mostly　town　people。　Mr。　Starnes　made　the　Mexicans　sit　in　the　balcony；　but　it　didn't　seem　to　bother　them。　Only　a　handful　would　waste　money　on　a　picture　show。
　　　We　rushed　out　at　the　end；　and　within　minutes　we　were　behind　the　Co…op　again；　half…expecting　to　see　the　bloody　corpses　of　the　Sisco　boys。　But　no　one　was　there。　There　was　no　evidence　of　any　fight…no　blood；　no　limbs；　no　shattered　two…by…four。
　　　Pappy　held　the　opinion　that　people　with　self…respect　should　leave　town　on　Saturday　before　dark。　Bad　things　happened　on　Saturday　night。　Other　than　the　fights；　though；　I'd　never　witnessed　any　true　evil。　I'd　heard　there　were　drinking　and　dice　games　behind　the　gin；　and　even　more　fights；　but　all　that　was　kept　out　of　sight　and　was　engaged　in　by　very　few　people。　Still；　Pappy　was　afraid　we'd　somehow　be　contaminated。
　　　Ricky　was　the　hell…raiser　of　the　Chandler　family；　and　my　mother　told　me　that　he　had　the　reputation　of　staying　in　town　too　long　on　Saturday。　There　was　an　arrest　somewhere　in　the　recent　family　history；　but　I　could　never　get　the　details。　She　said　that　Pappy　and　Ricky　had　fought　for　years　over　what　time　they　should　leave。　I　could　remember　several　occasions　when　we　left　without　him。　I'd　cry　because　I　was　sure　I'd　never　see　him　again；　then　Sunday　morning　he　would　be　sitting　in　the　kitchen　drinking　coffee　as　if　nothing　had　happened。　Ricky　always　came　home。
　　　We　met　at　the　truck；　which　was　now　surrounded　by　dozens　of　other　vehicles　parked　haphazardly　around　the　Baptist　church　because　the　farmers　were　still　rolling　in。　The　crowd　was　thicker　along　Main　Street　and　seemed　to　be　congregating　near　the　school；　where　fiddlers　and　banjo　pickers　sometimes　broke　out　into　bluegrass　sessions。　I　didn't　want　to　leave；　and　in　my　opinion　there　was　no　hurry　to　get　home。
　　　Gran　and　my　mother　had　some　last…minute　business　inside　the　church；　where　most　of　the　women　found　something　to　do　on　the　day　before　the　Sabbath。　From　the　other　side　of　the　truck；　I　overheard　my　dad　and　Pappy　talking　about　a　fight。　Then　I　heard　the　name　Sisco；　and　I　became　very　still。　Miguel　and　some　of　the　Mexicans　arrived　and　wouldn't　stop　chattering　in　Spanish；　so　I　missed　any　further　gossip。
　　　A　few　minutes　later；　Stick　Powers；　one　of　Black　Oak's　two　deputies；　walked　over　from　the　street　and　said　hello　to　Pappy　and　my　father。　Stick　was　supposed　to　have　been　a　POW　in　the　war；　and　he　walked　with　a　limp；　which　he　claimed　was　the　result　of　abuse　in　a　German　camp。　Pappy　said　he'd　never　left　Craighead　County；　never　heard　a　shot　fired　in　anger。
　　　〃One　of　them　Sisco　boys　is　near　'bout　dead；〃　I　heard　him　say　as　I　moved　in　closer。　It　was　almost　dark　now；　and　no　one　was　watching　me。
　　　〃Nothing　wrong　with　that；〃