jg.paintedhouse-第18部分

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al。　We'd　knock　off　an　hour　early。　I　wanted　to　ask　him　if　we　were　going　to　work　on　Sunday；　too；　but　I'd　said　enough　on　Thursday　night。　He　was　ignoring　me　and　I　was　ignoring　him。　This　type　of　pouting　could　go　on　for　days。
　　　So　we　went　back　to　the　fields　instead　of　going　to　Black　Oak。　Even　the　Mexicans　seemed　irritated　by　this。　When　the　trailer　stopped；　we　took　our　sacks　and　slowly　disappeared　into　the　cotton。　I　picked　a　little　and　stalled　a　lot；　and　when　things　were　safe；　I　found　a　spot　and　went　down　for　a　nap。　They　could　banish　me　from　town；　they　could　force　me　into　the　fields；　but　they　couldn't　make　me　work　hard。　I　think　there　were　a　lot　of　naps　that　Saturday　afternoon。
　　　My　mother　found　me；　and　we　walked　to　the　house；　just　the　two　of　us。　She　was　not　feeling　well；　and　she　also　knew　the　injustice　that　was　being　inflicted　upon　me。　We　gathered　some　vegetables　from　the　garden；　but　only　a　few　things。　I　suffered　through　and　survived　the　dreaded　bath。　And　when　I　was　clean；　I　ventured　into　the　front　yard；　where　Trot　was　spending　his　days　guarding　Camp　Spruill。　We　had　no　idea　what　he　did　all　day；　no　one　really　cared。　We　were　too　busy　and　too　tired　to　worry　about　Trot。　I　found　him　sitting　behind　the　wheel　of　their　truck；　pretending　he　was　driving；　making　a　strange　sound　with　his　lips。　He　glanced　at　me　and　returned　to　his　driving　and　sputtering。
　　　When　I　heard　the　tractor　ing；　I　went　into　the　house；　where　I　found　my　mother　lying　on　her　bed；　something　she　never　did　during　the　day。　There　were　voices　around；　tired　voices　in　the　front；　where　the　Spruills　were　unwinding；　and　in　the　rear；　where　the　Mexicans　were　dragging　themselves　to　the　barn。　I　hid　in　Ricky's　room　for　a　while；　a　baseball　in　one　hand；　a　glove　on　the　other；　and　I　thought　of　Dewayne　and　the　Montgomery　twins　and　the　rest　of　my　friends　all　sitting　in　the　Dixie　watching　the　Saturday　feature　and　eating　popcorn。
　　　The　door　opened　and　Pappy　appeared。　〃I'm　goin'　to　Pop　and　Pearl's　for　a　few　things。　You　wanna　go？〃
　　　I　shook　my　head　no；　without　looking　at　him。
　　　〃I'll　buy　you　a　Coca…Cola；〃　he　said。
　　　〃No　thanks；〃　I　said；　still　staring　at　the　floor。
　　　Eli　Chandler　wouldn't　beg　for　mercy　in　front　of　a　firing　squad；　and　he　wasn't　about　to　plead　with　a　seven…year…old。　The　door　closed；　and　seconds　later　the　truck　engine　started。
　　　Wary　of　the　front　yard；　I　headed　for　the　back。　Near　the　silo；　where　the　Spruills　were　supposed　to　be　camping；　there　was　a　grassy　area　where　baseball　could　be　played。　It　wasn't　as　long　and　wide　as　my　field　in　the　front；　but　it　was　open　enough　and　ran　to　the　edge　of　the　cotton。　I　tossed　pop　flies　as　high　as　I　could；　and　I　stopped　only　after　I'd　caught　ten　in　a　row。
　　　Miguel　appeared　from　nowhere。　He　watched　me　for　a　minute；　and　under　the　pressure　of　an　audience；　I　dropped　three　in　a　row。　I　tossed　him　the　ball；　gently；　because　he　had　no　glove。　He　caught　it　effortlessly　and　snapped　it　back　to　me。　I　bobbled　it；　dropped　it；　kicked　it；　then　grabbed　it　and　threw　it　back　to　him；　this　time　a　little　harder。
　　　I　had　learned　the　previous　year　that　a　lot　of　Mexicans　played　baseball；　and　it　was　obvious　that　Miguel　knew　the　game。　His　hands　were　quick　and　soft；　his　throws　sharper　than　mine。　We　tossed　the　ball　for　a　few　minutes；　then　Rico　and　Pepe　and　Luis　joined　us。
　　　〃You　have　a　bat？〃　Miguel　asked。
　　　〃Sure；〃　I　said；　and　ran　to　the　house　to　get　it。
　　　When　I　returned；　Roberto　and　Pablo　had　joined　the　others；　and　the　group　was　flinging　my　baseball　in　all　directions。　〃You　bat；〃　Miguel　said；　and　he　took　charge。　He　put　a　piece　of　an　old　plank　on　the　ground；　ten　feet　in　front　of　the　silo；　and　said；　〃Home　plate。〃　The　others　scattered　throughout　the　infield。　Pablo；　in　shallow　center；　was　at　the　edge　of　the　cotton。　Rico　squatted　behind　me；　and　I　took　my　position　on　the　right　side　of　the　plate。　Miguel　performed　a　fierce　windup；　scared　me　for　a　second；　then　tossed　a　soft　one　that　I　swung　at　mightily　but　missed。
　　　I　also　missed　the　next　three；　then　ripped　a　couple。　The　Mexicans　cheered　and　laughed　when　I　made　contact；　but　said　nothing　when　I　didn't。　After　a　few　minutes　of　batting　practice；　I　gave　the　bat　to　Miguel　and　we　swapped　places。　I　started　him　with　fastballs；　and　he　didn't　appear　to　be　intimidated。　He　hit　line　drives　and　hot　grounders；　some　of　which　were　fielded　cleanly　by　the　Mexicans；　while　others　were　simply　retrieved。　Most　of　them　had　played　before；　but　a　couple　had　never　even　thrown　a　baseball。
　　　The　other　four　at　the　barn　heard　the　motion　and　they　wandered　over。　Cowboy　was　shirtless；　and　his　pants　were　rolled　up　to　his　knees。　He　seemed　to　be　a　foot　taller　than　the　rest。
　　　Luis　hit　next。　He　wasn't　as　experienced　as　Miguel；　and　I　had　no　trouble　fooling　him　with　my　change…up。　Much　to　my　delight；　I　noticed　Tally　and　Trot　sitting　under　an　elm；　watching　the　fun。
　　　Then　my　father　strolled　over。
　　　The　longer　we　played；　the　more　animated　the　Mexicans　became。　They　hollered　and　laughed　at　one　another's　miscues。　God　only　knew　what　they　were　saying　about　my　pitching。
　　　〃Let's　play　a　game；〃　my　father　said。　Bo　and　Dale　had　arrived；　also　shirtless　and　shoeless。　Miguel　was　consulted；　and　after　a　few　minutes　of　plotting；　it　was　decided　that　the　Mexicans　would　play　the　Arkansans。　Rico　would　catch　for　both　teams；　and　again　I　was　sent　to　the　house；　this　time　to　fetch　my　father's　old　catcher's　mitt　and　my　other　ball。
　　　When　I　returned　the　second　time；　Hank　had　appeared　and　was　ready　to　play。　I　was　not　happy　about　being　on　the　same　team　with　him；　but　I　certainly　couldn't　say　anything。　Nor　was　I　certain　where　Trot　would　fit　in。　And　Tally　was　a　girl。　What　a　disgrace：　a　girl　for　a　teammate。　Still；　the　Mexicans　had　us　outnumbered。
　　　Another　round　of　plotting；　and　it　was　somehow　determined　that　we　would　bat　first。　〃You　have　little　guys；〃　Miguel　said　with　a　smile。　More　planks　were　laid　around　as　bases。　My　father　and　Miguel　established　the　ground　rules；　which　were　quite　creative　for　such　a　misshapen　field。　The　Mexicans　scattered　around　the　bases；　and　we　were　ready　to　play。
　　　To　my　surprise；　Cowboy　walked　out　to　the　mound　and　began　warming　up。　He　was　lean　but　strong；　and　when　he　threw　the　ball；　the　muscles　in　his　chest　and　shoulders　bulged　and　creased。　The　sweat　made　his　dark　skin　shine。　〃He's　good；〃　my　father　said　softly。　His　windup　was　smooth；　his　delivery　seamless；　his　release　almost　nonchalant；　but　the　baseball　shot　from　his　fingers　and　popped　into　Rico's　mitt。　He　threw　harder　and　harder。　〃He's　very　good；〃　my　father　said；　shaking　his　head。　〃That　boy's　played　a　lot　of　baseball。〃
　　　〃Girls　first；〃　somebody　said。　Tally　picked　up　the　bat　and　walked　to　the　plate。　She　was　shoeless；　and　wearing　tight　pants　rolled　up　to　her　knees　and　a　loose　shirt　with　its　tail　tied　in　a　knot。　You　could　see　her　stomach。　At　first；　she　didn't　look　at　Cowboy；　but　he　was　certainly　staring　at　her。　He　moved　a　few　feet　toward　the　plate　and　tossed　the　first　pitch　underhanded。　She　swung　and　missed；　but　it　was　an　impressive　swing；　at　least　for　a　girl。
　　　Then　their　eyes　met　briefly。　Cowboy　was　rubbing　the　baseball；　Tally　was　swinging　the　bat；　nine　Mexicans　were　chattering　like　locusts。
　　　The　second　pitch　was　even　slower；　and　Tally　made　contact。　The　ball　rolled　by　Pepe　at　third；　and　we　had　our　first　base　runner。　〃Bat；　Luke；〃　my　father　said。　I　strolled　to　the　plate　with　all　the　confidence　of　Stan　Musial；　hoping　that　Cowboy　wouldn't　throw　the　hard　stuff　at　me。　He　let　Tally　hit　one；　surely　he'd　do　the　same　for　me。　I　stood　in　the　box；　listening　as　thousands　of　rabid　Cardinal　fans　chanted　my　name。　A　packed　house；　Harry　Caray　yelling　into　the　microphone…then　I　looked　at　Cowboy　thirty　feet　away；　and　my　heart　stopped。　He　wasn't　smiling；　nothing　close。　He　held　the　baseball　with　both　hands　and　looked　at　me　as　if　he　could　saw　my　head　off　with　a　fastball。
　　　What　would　Musial　do？　Swing　the　damned　bat！
　　　The　first　pitch　was　also　underhanded；　so　I　started　breathing　again。　It　was　high；　and　I　didn't　swing；　and　the　Mexican　chorus　had　a　lot　to　say　about　that。　The　second　pitch　was　down　the　middle；　and　I　swung　for　the　fence；　for　the　left　field　wall；　350　feet　away。　I　closed　my　eyes　and　swung　for　the　thirty　thousand　lucky　souls　in　Sportsman's　Park。　I　also　swung　for　Tally。
　　　〃Strike　one！〃　my　father　yelled；　a　little　too　loud；　I　thought。　〃You're　tryin'　to　kill　it；　Luke；〃　he　said。
　　　Of　course　I　was。　I　tried　to　kill　the　third　pitch；　too；　and　when　Rico　threw　it　back；　I　was　faced　with　the　horror　of　being　down　two　strikes。　A　strikeout　was　unthinkable。　Tally　had　just　hit　the　ball　nicely。　She　was　on　first　base；　anxious　for　me　to　put　the　ball　in　play　so　she　could　advance。　We　were　playing　on　my　field；　with　my　ball　and　bat。　All　of　those　people　were　watching。
　　　I　stepped　away　from　the　plate　and　was　stricken　with　the　terror　of　striking　out。　The　bat　was　suddenly　heavier。　My　heart　was　pounding；　my　mouth　was　dry。　I　looked　at　my　father　for　help；　and　he　said；　〃Let's　go；　Luke。　Hit　the　ball。〃　I　looked　at　Cowboy；　and　his　nasty　smile　was　even　nastier。　I　did　not　know　if　I　was　ready　for　what　he　was　going　to　throw。
　　　I　stutter…stepped　back　to　the　plate；　gritted　my　teeth；　and　tried　to　think　of　Musial；　but　my　only　thoughts　were　of　defeat；　and　I　swung　at　a　very　slow　pitch。　When　I　missed　for　the　third　time；　there　was　total　silence。　I　dropped　the　bat；　picked　it　up；　and　heard　nothing　as　I　walked　back　to　my　team；　my　lip　quivering；　already　daring　myself　not　to　cry。　I　couldn't　look　at　Tally；　and　I　sure　couldn't　look　at　my　father。
　　　I　wanted　to　run　into　the　house　and　lock　the　doors。
　　　Trot　was　next；　and　he　held　the　bat　with　his　right　hand　just　under　the　label。　His　left　arm　hung　limp；　as　always；　and　we　were　a　little　embarrassed　at　the　sight　of　this　poor　kid　trying　to　swing。　But　he　was　smiling　and　happy　to　be　playing；　and　that　was　more　important　than　anything　else　at　the　moment。　He　hacked　at　the　first　two；　and　I　began　to　think　the　Mexicans　would　beat　us　by　twenty　runs。　Somehow；　though；　he　hit　the　third　pitch；　a　gentle　looping　fly　that　landed　behind　second　base；　where　at　least　four　Mexicans　managed　to　miss　it。　Tally　flew　around　second　and　made　it　to　third；　while　Trot　shuffled　down　to　first。
　　　My　humiliation；　already　enormous；　grew　even　greater。　Trot　on　first；　Tally　on　third；　only　one　out。
　　　Bo　was　next；　and　because　he　was　a　large　teenager　with　no　visible　handicaps；　Cowboy　stepped　back　and　threw　from　a　full　windup。　His　first　pitch　was　not　too　fast；　but　poor　Bo　was　already　shaking　by　the　time　the　ball　crossed　home　plate。　He　swung　after　Rico　caught　it；　and　Hank　roared　with　laughter。　Bo　told　him　to　shut　up；　Hank　made　some　response；　and　I　thought　we　might　have　a　Spruill　family　brawl　in　the　top　of　the　first　inning。
　　　The　second　pitch　was　a　little　faster。　Bo's　swing　was　a　little　slower。　〃Make　him　throw　it　underhand！〃　Bo　yelled　at　us；　trying　to　laugh　it　off。
　　　〃What　a　sissy；〃　Hank　said。　Mr。　and　Mrs。　Spruill　had　joined　the　spectators；　and　Bo　glanced　at　them。
　　　I　expected　the　third　pitch　to　be　even　faster；　so　did　Bo。　Cowboy　instead　threw　a　change…up；　and　Bo　swung　long　before　the　ball　arrived。
　　　〃He's　mighty　good；〃　my　father　said　of　Cowboy。
　　　〃I'm　hittin'　next；〃　Hank　announced；　stepping　in　front　of　Dale；　who　didn't　argue。　〃I'll　show　you　boys　how　it's　done。〃
　　　The　bat　looked　like　a　toothpick　as　Hank　hacked　and　chopped　with　his　practice　swings；　as　if　he　mi