cwilleford.cockfighter-第22部分

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r；　you　and　I；　Frank。　We　can　get　a　book　on　phonetics　and　you…〃
　　As　she　constructed　these　impossible　feminine　castles　I　got　restless。　I　pulled　away　from　her；　clambered　up　on　the　opposite　bank　and　began　to　dress；　without　waiting　to　get　dry。
　　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　she　said　sharply。
　　As　she　could　see　for　herself；　I　was　putting　my　clothes　on。
　　〃You　haven't　listened　to　a　single　word；　have　you？〃
　　I　grinned；　and　buckled　the　straps　on　my　jodhpur　boots。
　　〃If　you　leave；　now；〃　she　shouted；　〃you　needn't　e　back！　We're　through；　d'you　hear？　Through！　I　won't　be　treated　this　way！〃
　　When　a　woman　starts　to　scream　unreasonably；　it's　time　to　leave。　I　snatched　a　cold　fried　chicken　leg　out　of　the　basket；　draped　my　coat　over　my　arm　and　started　down　the　trail。　Mary　Elizabeth　didn't　call　after　me。　Too　mad；　I　reckoned。
　　Mary　Elizabeth　was　stubborn。　That　was　her　problem。　Anytime　she　truly　wanted　to　get　married；　all　she　had　to　do　was　say　so。　But　it　had　to　be　on　my　terms。　I　loved　her；　and　she　was　a　respectable　woman　with　a　good　family　background。　I　knew　she　would　make　me　a　good　wife；　too；　once　she　got　over　this　foolishness　of　wanting　me　to　give　up　cockfighting　and　settle　down　in　some　dull　occupation　in　Mansfield。　We　had　been　over　this　ground　too　many　times；　and　I　had　a　new　season　of　cockfighting　to　get　through。　Nothing　would　have　pleased　me　more　than　to　have　Mary　Elizabeth　as　a　bride　at　my　Ocala　farm；　preparing　meals　and　keeping　my　clothes　clean。　And；　until　she　became　pregnant；　what　would　keep　her　from　teaching　school　in　Ocala；　if　that　was　what　she　wanted　to　do？　As　soon　as　she　came　around　to　seeing　things　my　way；　and　quit　trying　to　tell　me　what　I　could　and　couldn't　do；　we'd　be　married　quick　enough。　And　she　knew　it。
　　I　grinned　to　myself；　and　tossed　the　chicken　bone　in　the　general　direction　of　an　ant　nest。　Mary　Elizabeth　had　a　sore　point　on　those　postcards。　I'd　have　to　do　better　than　that。　When　I　got　back　to　Ocala；　I'd　write　her　a　nice；　interesting　letter；　a　long　newsy　one　for　a　change。
　　When　I　crossed　through　Wright's　yard　to　the　state　road；　I　looked　about　apprehensively　to　see　if　he　had　returned；　but　he　hadn't　e　back　from　town。　Every　time　Wright　caught　me　alone；　he　attempted　to　goad　me　into　a　fight。　For　Mary　Elizabeth's　sake；　I　had　always　refused　to　fight　him。　It　would　have　given　me　a　good　deal　of　pleasure　to　knock　a　little　sense　into　his　thick　head；　but　I　knew　that　as　soon　as　we　started　fighting　he　would　whip　out　his　knife；　and　then　I　would　have　to　kill　him。
　　I　walked　down　the　asphalt　road。　My　biggest　problem　now　was　how　to　retrieve　my　shaving　kit　from　the　dresser　in　my　room。　If　I　returned　to　the　house　to　get　it；　Randall　would　be　curious　as　to　why　I　was　leaving　so　soon。　If　I　wrote　a　note　informing　him　I　was　going　to　take　my　rightful　property　and　have　him　and　Frances　tossed　out；　he　would　attempt；　with　his　trained　lawyer's　logic；　to　argue　me　out　of　my　convictions。　As　I　remembered；　I　had　never　really　bested　him　in　an　oral　argument。　The　only　way　I　had　ever　won　an　argument　with　Randall　was　by　resorting　to　force。　And　besides；　Frances　would　bawl　and　carry　on　like　crazy。
　　By　the　time　I　was　level　with　the　house；　I　decided　the　hell　with　the　shaving　kit；　and　continued　on　down　the　road。　It　would　be　less　trouble　all　the　way　around　if！　bought　another　razor　and　a　toothbrush　when　I　got　back　to　Jacksonvifie。
　　I　walked　about　four　miles　before　I　was　picked　up　by　a　kid　in　a　hot　rod　and　taken　the　rest　of　the　way　into　Mansfield。　When　he　let　me　out　at　a　service　station；　I　walked　through　the　shady　residential　streets　to　Judge　Brantley　Powell's　house　on　the　upper　side　of　town。　He　only　went　to　his　office　in　the　mornings；　and　I　was　certain　I　could　catch　him　at　home。　When！　rapped　with　the　wrought…iron　knocker；　I　only　had　to　wait　a　minute　before　Raymond；　his　whitewooled　Negro　servant；　opened　the　door。　Raymond　peered　at　me　blankly　for　a　moment　or　so　before　he　recognized　me；　and　then　he　smiled。
　　〃Mr。　Frank；〃　he　said　cordially；　〃e　in；　e　in！〃
　　It　was　dark　in　the　musty　hallway　when　he　closed　the　door。　Raymond　took　my　hat；　led　the　way　into　the　dim　living　room　and　raised　the　shades　to　let　in　some　light。
　　〃The　judge　he　takin'　his　nap　now；　Mr。　Frank；〃　he　said　uneasily。　〃I　don't　like　to　wake　him　'less　it's　somethin'　important。〃
　　I　considered。　What　was　important　to　me　probably　wouldn't　be　considered　important　by　the　old　judge。　I　waved　my　right　hand　with　an　indifferent　gesture；　and　settled　myself　in　a　leather　chair　to　wait。
　　〃You　goin'　to　wait；　Mr。　Frank？〃
　　I　nodded；　picked　up　an　old　Life　magazine　from　the　table　beside　the　chair　and　leafed　through　it。　Raymond　left　the　room　silently；　and　returned　a　few　minutes　later　with　a　glass　of　ice　cubes　and　a　pitcher　of　lemonade。　A　piece　of　vinegar　pie　acpanied　the　lemonade。　Firm；　tart　and　clear；　with　a　flaky；　crumbly　crust；　it　was　the　best　piece　of　vinegar　pie　I　had　ever　eaten。
　　It　was　almost　five　before　the　judge　came　downstairs。　Evidently　Raymond　had　told　him　I　was　waiting　on　him　because　he　addressed　me　by　name　when　he　entered　the　room　and　apologized　for　sleeping　so　late。　Judge　Powell　had　aged　considerably　in　the　four　or　five　years　that　had　gone　by　since　I　had　last　talked　to　him。　He　must　have　been　close　to　eighty。　His　head　wobbled　and　his　hands　trembled　as　he　talked。　I　handed　him　the　list　of　instructions　I　had　written；　and　he　sat　down　in　a　chair　close　to　the　window　to　read　them。　He　looked　through　the　papers　a　second　time；　as　if　he　were　searching　for　something；　and　then　removed　his　glasses。
　　〃All　right；　Frank；〃　he　said　grimly。　〃I'll　handle　this　for　you。　Your　Daddy　was　a　stubborn　man；　and　I　told　him　he　was　wrong　when　he　changed　his　will。〃
　　I　picked　up　my　hat　from　the　table　where　Raymond　had　placed　it。
　　〃One　more　thing；　Frank。　How　long　do　you　expect　to　be　at　the　Jeff　Davis　Hotel　in　Jax？〃
　　I　shrugged；　mentally　totaled　my　remaining　money；　and　then　held　up　four　fingers。
　　〃You'll　hear　from　me　before　then。　And　when　you　get　your　money；　Frank；　I　hope　you'll　settle　down。　A　dog　has　fun　chasing　his　own　tail；　but　he　never　gets　anywhere　while　he's　doing　it'
　　I　shook　hands　with　the　old　man　and　he　walked　me　to　the　front　door。　〃Can　you　stay　for　dinner；　son？〃
　　I　shook　my　head　and　smiled　my　thanks；　but　when　I　opened　the　door　he　grasped　my　sleeve。
　　〃There're　all　kinds　of　justice；　Frank；〃　he　said　kindly；　〃and　I've　seen　most　of　them　in　fifty　years　of　practice。　But　poetic　justice　is　the　best　kind　of　all。　To　measure　the　night；　a　man　must　fill　his　day；〃　he　finished　cryptically。
　　I　nodded　knowingly；　although　I　didn't　know　what　he　meant；　and　I　doubt　very　much　whether　he　did　either。　When　a　man　manages　to　live　as　long　as　Judge　Powell　has；　he　always　thinks　he's　a　sage　of　some　kind。
　　I　cut　across　town　to　the　U。S。　Highway　and　ate　dinner　in　a　trucker's　cafe　about　a　mile　outside　the　city　limits。　Two　hours　later　I　was　riding　in　the　cab　of　a　diesel　truck　on　my　way　back　to　Jacksonville。　I　had　the　feeling　inside　that　I　had　finally　burned　every　bridge；　save　one；　to　the　past。　But　I　didn't　have　any　regrets。　To　survive　in　this　world；　a　man　has　got　to　do　what　he　has　got　to　do。
　　
　　
　　
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　　I　was　tired　when　I　reached　Jacksonville；　but　I　wasn't　sleepy。　I　had　hoped　to　get　some　sleep　in　the　cab　of　the　truck　on　the　long　drive　down；　but　the　driver　had　talked　continuously。　As　I　listened　to　him；　dumbly；　my　eyes　smarting　from　cigarette　smoke　and　the　desire　to　close　them；　he　poured　out　the　dull；　intimate　details　of　his　boring　life…his　military　service　with　the　First　Cavalry　Division　in　Vietnam；　his　courtship；　his　marriage　and　his　plans　for　the　future　（he　wanted　to　be　a　truck　dispatcher　so　he　could　sit　on　his　ass）。　He　was　still　going　strong　when　we　reached　Jax。　To　finish　his　autobiography；　he　parked　at　a　drive…in　and　bought　me　ham　and　eggs　for　breakfast。
　　After　shaking　hands　with　the　voluble　truck　driver；　who　wasn't　really　a　bad　guy；　I　caught　a　bus　downtown　and　checked　into　the　Jeff　Davis　Hotel。　One　look　at　the　soft　double　bed　and　I　became　wide　awake；　If　my　plan　was　successful；　I　would　know　within　three　days；　and　I　didn't　have　time　to　sleep　all　day。　I　had　to　proceed　with　a　confidence　I　didn't　actually　have；　as　though　there　could　be　no　doubt　of　the　oute。
　　After　I　shaved；　I　prepared　a　list　for　Doc　Riordan。　These　were　supplies　I　would　need；　and　I　intended　to　take　advantage　of　our　agreement。　It　would　take　a　long　time　to　use　up　eight　hundred　dollars　worth　of　cocker's　supplies。
　　One。　Conditioning　powder。　Doc　made　a　reliable　conditioning　powder…a　concoction　containing　iron　for　vigor；　and　Vitamin　Bi。　This　powder；　mixed　with　a　gamecock's　special　diet；　is　a　valuable　aid　to　developing　a　bird's　muscles　and　reflexes。　I　put　down　an　order　for　three　pounds。
　　Two。　Dextrose　capsules。　A　dextrose　capsule；　dropped　down　a　gamecock's　throat　an　hour　before　a　fight；　gives　him　the　same　kind　of　fresh　energy　a　candy　bar　provides　to　a　mountain　climber　halfway　up　a　mountain。　On　my　list　I　put　down　an　order　for　a　twenty…four…gamecock　season　supply。
　　Three。　Doc　Riordan's　Blood　Builder。　For　many　years　Doc　had　made　and　sold　a　blood　coagulant　that　was　as　good　as　any　on　the　market。　If　he　didn't　have　any　on　hand　he　could　make　more。　This　was　a　blood　builder　in　capsule　form　containing　Vitamin　K；　the　blood　coagulating　vitamin；　whole　liver　and　several　other　secret　ingredients。　Who　can　judge　the　effectiveness　of　a　blood　coagulant？　I　can't。　But　if　any　blood　coagulants　worked；　and　I　don't　leave　any　loopholes　when　it　es　to　conditioning；　I　preferred　to　use　Doc　Riordan's。　Again　I　marked　down　enough　for　a　twenty…fourgamecock　supply。
　　Four。　Disinfectants。　Soda；　formaldehyde；　sulfur；　carbolic　acid；　oil　of　tansy；　sassafras；　creosote；　camphor　and　rubbing　alcohol。　Insects　are　a　major　problem　for　cockfighters。　Lice　are　almost　impossible　to　get　rid　of　pletely；　but　a　continuous　fight　against　them　must　be　fought　if　a　man　wants　to　keep　healthy　game　fowl。　Give　me　a　plentiful　supply　of　all　these；　I　wrote　on　my　list。
　　Five。　Turpentine。　Five　gallons。　The　one　essential　fluid　a　cocker　must　have　for　survival。　God　has　seen　fit　to　subject　chickens　to　the　most　loathsome　diseases　in　the　world…pip；　gapes；　costiveness；　diarrhea；　distemper；　asthma；　catarrh；　apoplexy；　cholera；　lime　legs；　canker　and　many　others。　Any　one　of　these　sic