cwilleford.cockfighter-第25部分

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ced　me　when　I　had　needed　it。　I　turned　around；　and　drove　slowly　until　I　reached　a　shopping　center　that　had　a　florist's　shop。　I　parked；　entered　the　shop；　and　selected　a　dozen　yellow　roses　out　of　the　icebox。　The　stems　were　at　least　two　feet　long。
　　〃These　wifi　make　a　beautiful　arrangement；〃　the　grayhaired　saleswoman　smiled。　〃Do　you　want　to　include　a　card？〃
　　When　I　nodded　she　gave　me　a　small　white　card　and　a　tiny　envelope　that　went　with　it。　I　scrawled　a　short　note：
　　
　　Dear　Bernice：
　　Drop　me　a　line　sometime。　RFD　#1。　Ocala；　Fla。
　　Frank　Mansfield
　　
　　Whether　Bernice　would　write　to　me　or　not　I　didn't　know。　I　did　feel；　however；　that　the　roses　and　thirty　dollars　in　cash　would　make　up　for　my　abrupt　leave…taking　without　saying　good…bye。　And　I　did　like　the　woman。　I　tucked　the　money　inside　the　little　envelope；　together　with　the　card；　and　licked　the　flap。
　　〃And　where　do　you　wish　these　delivered；　sir？〃　the　saleswoman　asked；　handing　me　a　pink　bill　for　twenty…five　dollars　and　fifty　cents。　I　put　the　money　on　the　counter；　and　tugged　at　my　lower　lip。　By　having　them　delivered　I　could　save　time。
　　〃We　deliver　free；　of　course；〃　the　woman　smiled。
　　That　settled　it。　I　had　to　deliver　the　roses　and　the　note　myself。　The　woman　was　too　damned　anxious。　Her　gray　hair　and　kindly；　crinkle…faced　smile　didn't　fool　me。　I　had　selected　the　twelve　yellow　roses　with　care。　If　I　had　allowed　them　to　be　delivered　she　would　have　either　switched　them　for　older　roses；　or　changed　them　for　carnations　or　something。　After　pocketing　my　change；　I　pointed　to　the　stack　of　green　waxed　paper　and　made　a　circular　motion　with　my　hand　for　the　woman　to　wrap　them　up。
　　When　I　reached　111　Melrose　Avenue；　I　rang　the　bell　several　times；　but　there　was　no　one　at　home。　I　waited　impatiently　for　five　minutes；　and　then　left　the　flowers　at　the　door。　I　slipped　the　note　containing　the　money　under　the　door。　Maybe　it　was　better　that　way。
　　The　next　move；　if　any；　would　be　up　to　Bernice。　If　she　had　been　home；　I　probably　would　have　stayed　overnight　with　her　and　lost　another　day。　There　was　too　much　work　ahead　of　me　to　waste　time　romancing　a　wealthy　widow。
　　The　old　pickup　drove　well　on　the　highway；　but　I　was　afraid　to　drive　more　than　forty　miles　an　hour。　When　I　revved　it　up　to　fifty；　the　front　wheels　shimmied。　Long　before　reaching　Orlando　I　was　remorseful　about　the　grand　gesture　of　giving　the　roses　and　thirty　bucks　to　Bernice　Hungerford。　It　would　have　been　wiser　to　wait　until　I　was　flush　again。　The　damned　money　was　dripping　through　my　fingers　like　water；　and　I'd　have　to　win　some　fights　before　any　more　came　in。　But　when　I　pictured　the　delighted　expression　on　Bernice's　jolly　face　when　she　discovered　the　flowers　at　her　front　door；　I　felt　better。
　　I　reached　Orlando　before　midnight。　I　saved　eight　dollars　by　driving　through　town　to　Ed　Middleton's　private　road；　and　by　sleeping　in　the　back　of　the　truck　in　his　orange　grove。　The　excitement　had　drifted　out　of　my　mind；　and；　as　tired　as　I　was；　I　slept　as　well　in　the　truck　as　I　would　have　slept　in　a　motel　bed。
　　The　next　morning；　when　I　parked　in　his　carport；　and　knocked　on　his　kitchen　door　at　six　a。m。；　Ed　wasn't　happy　to　see　me。　Martha　Middleton；　however；　appeared　to　be　overjoyed　by　my　early　morning　appearance。　She　cracked　four　more　eggs　into　the　frying　pan　and　decided　to　make　biscuits　after　all。
　　〃I　didn't　expect　you　back　so　soon；〃　Ed　said　gruffly；　after　he　filled　my　cup　with　coffee。
　　I　grinned　at　his　disfiture；　took　the　money　out　of　my　jacket；　and　peeled　off　five　hundred　dollars　on　the　breakfastnook　table。　Ed　glared　at　the　stack　of　bills。　Martha　stayed　close　to　her　stove；　pursing　her　lips。　I　drank　half　my　coffee；　and　started　in　on　my　fried　eggs　before　Ed　Middleton　said　a　word。　In　the　back　of　my　mind；　I　was　more　or　less　hoping　he　would　change　his　mind　and　renege　on　the　deal。　Icarus　was　a　mighty　fine　rooster；　but　five　hundred　dollars　was　a　lot　of　money；　and　I　needed　every　cent　I　could　get　at　that　moment。
　　〃Well；〃　Ed　said　thoughtfully。　He　counted　the　money　twice；　removed　the　top　five　twenty…dollar　bifis　and　shoved　the　remaining　four　hundred　dollars　back　across　the　table。
　　〃Here！〃　he　said　angrily。　〃I　won't　hold　you　to　the　ridiculous　price　we　agreed　on；　Frank。　I'll　just　take　a　hundred　as　a　token　payment。　Besides；　I'm　sick　of　looking　at　game　chickens。　I'm　tired　of　the　whole　business！　e　on；　let's　go　get　your　damned　rooster！〃
　　By　the　time　Ed　finished　talking；　he　was　almost　shouting　and　out　of　the　nook　and　fumbling　at　the　doorknob；
　　〃Can't　you　wait　until　Frank　finishes　his　breakfast？〃　Martha　said；　with　quiet　good　humor。
　　〃Sure；　sure；〃　Ed　managed　to　get　the　door　open。　〃Take　your　time；　Frank；〃　he　said　contritely。　〃I'll　go　on　out　to　the　runs　and　put　Icarus　in　your　aluminum　coop。　Also；　those　two　battered　Grays　are　in　good　shape　again。　You　can　have　them　and　the　game　hen；　too。　I'll　have　them　all　in　coops　by　the　time　you　finish　eating。〃　The　door　banged　shut。
　　I　wiped　some　egg　yolk　off　the　top　twenty　with　a　napkin　and　returned　the　money　to　my　inside　jacket　pocket。　The　kitchen　door　opened　again；　and　Ed　stuck　his　head　in。　〃Can　you　use　some　corn？　Barley？〃
　　I　nodded。
　　〃Good。　There're　about　three　or　four　partly　used　sacks　of　both　in　the　feed　shack。　But　if　you　want　'em；　you'll　have　to　carry　'em　to　the　truck　yourself。　I'll　be　goddamned　if　I'm　going　to　do　it！〃　The　door　slammed　again。
　　I　wanted　to　follow　him　out　the　door　but　thought　it　best　to　finish　my　breakfast　and　let　Ed　cool　off　a　little　bit。　He　had　never　really　expected　me　to　show　up　with　five　hundred　dollars　for　his　pretty　pet　gamecock。　But　his　astonishment　was　in　my　favor。　He　had　been　shamed　into　returning　four　hundred　dollars；　and　now　I　was　way　ahead　of　the　game。　The　Middleton　Gray　game　hen　was　valuable　for　breeding；　and　the　two　Gray　gamecocks　were　worth　at　least　fifty　dollars　apiece。
　　〃Don't　you　pay　any　mind　to　Ed's　bluster；　Frank；〃　Martha　said　gently。　〃He's　just　upset　and　doesn't　mean　half　of　what　he　says。　I　know　how　much　store　he　sets　by　those　chickens。　Someday；　he'll　thank　me；　Frank。　You　think　I'm　unreasonable；　I　know；　making　him　give　up　his　chickens　and　stopping　him　from　following　fights　all　over　the　country；　but　I'm　not　really。　Ed's　had　two　heart　attacks　in　the　last　eighteen　months。　After　the　last　one　he　was　in　bed　for　two　weeks　and　the　doctor　told　him　not　to　do　anything　at　all。　Nothing。〃　She　shook　her　head。
　　〃He　isn't　supposed　to　pick　so　much　as　an　orange　up　off　the　ground。　Why；　the　last　time　the　doctor　came　out　and　saw　that　the　roosters　were　still　out　there　he　had　a　fit！　Now　go　out　and　get　your　chickens；　Frank；　and　don't　let　Ed　help　you　lift　anything〃
　　I　slid　out　from　the　table　and　patted　Martha　on　the　shoulder。　Ed　Middleton　certainly　knew　how　to　keep　a　secret。　I　hadn't　known　anything　about　his　ailing　heart。
　　〃I　know　you　won't　say　anything；　Frank；〃　Martha　said；　smiling；　〃but　don't　look　anything；　either！〃　Despite　her　smile　and　the　humor　in　her　voice；　there　were　sparks　of　terror　in　her　eyes。　〃Ed　hasn't　told　a　soul　about　his　bad　heart；　and　I　know　he　wouldn't　want　me　to　tell　you。　He　tries　to　pretend　he's　as　strong　as　he　ever　was。〃
　　I　wanted　to　say　something；　anything　that　would　fort　the　woman；　but　I　couldn't。　He　was　going　to　die　soon。　I　could　tell　by　her　eyes。
　　I　smiled；　nodded　and　left　the　kitchen。　The　moment　I　was　outside；　I　lit　out　around　the　little　lake　at　a　dead　run　to　get　my　prize　rooster　before　Ed　Middleton　could　change　his　mind。
　　
　　
　　
　　10
　　
　　The　scarlet　cock；　my　lord　likes　best；
　　And　next　to　him；　the　gray　with　thistle…breast。
　　This　knight　is　for　the　pile；　or　else　the　Black。
　　A　third　cries　no　cock　like　the　dun；　yellow　back。
　　The　milk…white　cock　with　golden　legs　and　bill。
　　Or　else　the　Spangle；　choose　you　as　you　will。
　　The　King　he　swears　（of　all）；　these　are　the　best。
　　They　heel；　says　he；　more　true　than　all　the　rest。
　　But　this　is　all　mere　fancy；　and　no　more；
　　The　color's　nothing；　as　I've　said　before！
　　
　　
　　This　anonymous　English　cocking　poem　was　thumbtacked　to　the　wall　beside　my　bed。　I　had　copied　it　in　longhand　and　stuck　it　there　as　a　reminder　that　experience；　rather　than　experiment；　would　be　my　best　teacher。　This　poem　must　have　been　more　than　two　hundred　years　old；　and　yet　it　still　held　a　sobering　truth。　The　best　gamecock　has　to　be　of　a　proven　game　strain。　Crossed　and　recrossed；　until　the　color　of　the　feathers　resemble　mud；　if　a　cock　can　be　traced　to　a　legitimate　game　strain　on　both　sides；　he　will　fight　when　he　is　pitted　and　face　when　he　is　hurt。　This　old　poem　contained　a　particularly　worthwhile　truth　to　remember；　now　that　I　possessed　Icky；　the　most　gaily　plumaged　cock　I　had　ever　owned。　The　bettors　at　every　pit　on　the　circuit　would　be　anxious　to　back　him　because　of　his　bright　blue　color；　and　he　would　have　to　be　good；　because　of　the　odds　I'd　be　forced　to　give　on　him。
　　While　I　poured　coffee　into　cups　at　the　gate…legged　table；　Omar　Baradinsky；　his　hairy　fingers　clasped　behind　his　back；　studied　the　poem　on　the　wall。　He　must　have　read　it　three　or　four　times；　but　if　he　moved　his　lips　when　he　read；　I　wouldn't　have　known　about　it。　Omar's　pale　face；　which　no　amount　of　exposure　to　the　Florida　sun　could　tan；　was　almost　pletely　covered　by　a　thick；　black；　unmanageable　beard。　This　ragged　hirsute　growth；　wild　and　tangled；　began　immediately　below　his　circular；　heavily　pouched　brown　eyes；　and　ended　in　tattered　shreds　halfway　down　his　chest。　A　thick；　untrimmed　moustache；　intermingled　with　his　beard；　covered　his　mouth　pletely。　When　he　talked；　and　Omar　liked　to　talk；　his　mouth　was　only　a　slightly　darker　hole　in　the　center　of　the　jet…black　tangle　of　face　hair。　Out　of　curiosity；　I　had　asked　Omar　once　why　he　wore　the　beard；　and　his　answer　had　been　typical　of　his　new　way　of　life。
　　〃I'll　tell　you；　Frank；〃　he　had　boomed。　〃Did　you　ever　eat　baked　ham　with　a　slice　of　glazed　pineapple　decorating　the　platter？〃
　　When　I　admitted　that　I　had；　he　had　pulled　his　fingers　through　his　beard　fondly　and　continued。　〃Well；　that's　what　my　face　looked　like　when　I　went　to　the　office　every　day　in　New　York。　Like　a　slab　of　glazed；　fried；　reddish　pineapple！　For　me；　shaving　once　a　day　wasn't　enough。　The　whiskers　grew　too　fast。　I　shaved　before　leaving　home　in　the　morning；　again　at　noon；　and　i