cwilleford.cockfighter-第31部分

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　broken！
　　Don't　write　and　tell　me　what　your　decision　is。　If　you　do　write；　I　won't　open　your　letters。　Two　seats　will　be　reserved　in　your　name　at　the　Milledgeville　Tourney　（bring　your　brother　if　you　like）　from　March　15　to　March　16。　I　won't　write　again；　and　will　pray　daily　to　the　good　Lord　above　that　you　will　TRY…and　please　let　your　heart　decide…to　be　there　at　Milled　geville。
　　I　love　you。　I　always　have　and　always　will！
　　Frank
　　
　　
　　I　read　the　letter　twice　before　sealing　it　into　an　envelope；　and　I　thought　it　was　a　damned　good　letter。　The　little　religious　touches　were　particularly　well　done；　and　so　was　the　part　about　going　to　Puerto　Rico　for　our　honeymoon。　There　are　many　luxury　hotels　in　San　Juan；　and　March　is　a　good　time　to　see　slasher　fights　at　the　Valla　Piedros。　The　pit　opens　daily　at　two　p。m。　and　the　cockfights　are　continuous　until　the　cocktail　hour。　After　dinner　we　could　hit　the　casinos；　shoot　craps　or　even　play　a　little　blackjack。
　　Of　course；　there　was　always　the　chance　that　Omar　and　I　wouldn't　win　the　tourney。　With　ten　entries　scheduled；　a　lot　of　things　could　happen；　but　the　main　idea　of　the　letter　was　to　ensure　Mary　Elizabeth's　physical　presence　at　the　pit。　Once　she　saw　for　herself　how　well　organized　the　tourney　was；　and　how　fair　the　pit　decisions　were；　I　was　positive　she　would　like　the　sport。　A　lot　of　ministers　follow　cockfighting　zealously　without　conflict　with　their　religious　beliefs。　After　all；　the　cock　that　crowed　after　Peter　denied　Jesus　Christ　thrice　was　a　gamecock！　That　was　right　in　the　Bible　and　a　damned　good　point。
　　I　considered　rewriting　the　letter　and　mentioning　this　fact　to　Mary　Elizabeth；　but　it　was　too　late。　I　had　already　sealed　the　envelope。　A　better　idea；　perhaps；　would　be　to　introduce　her　to　a　couple　of　the　ministers　who　attended　the　Mifiedgeville　Tourney　every　year　and　let　them　talk　to　her。　I　knew　little　about　the　Bible　and　hadn't　read　any　scripture　in　fifteen　years；　maybe　more。
　　Suppose　she　didn't　show　up？　My　stomach　tightened　at　the　thought。　I　had　to　risk　it。　If　she　couldn't　see　my　side　of　things　after　reading　a　letter　like　that；　there　was　no　hope　left　for　the　two　of　us　anyway。　Feeling　better　about　our　relationship　than　I　had　in　months；　I　picked　up　the　guitar　again　and　strummed　it　gently；　enjoying　the　amplified　sounds。
　　The　tablet　was　still　on　the　table；　and　I　decided　to　write　Bernice　Hungerford　a　letter。　She　was　entitled　to　a　thankyou　note　after　giving　me　such　an　expensive　gift。　A　letter　was　the　least　I　could　do。　Perhaps　Bernice　would　like　to　see　the　tournament？　She　thought　I　was　some　kind　of　modernday　minstrel。　What　a　terrific　surprise　it　would　be　for　her　to　learn　that　I　was　a　professional　cockfighter！
　　
　　
　　Dear　Bernice：
　　
　　What　a　wonderful　surprise；　what　a　wonderful　guitar！　There　is　only　ONE　way　you　could　have　pleased　me　more；　and　I　intend　to　get　into　that　later。　This　may　e　as　a　shock　to　you；　but　I'm　a　professional　cockfighter；　not　a　musician。　For　the　next　few　months　I'll　be　out　on　the　circuit　and　won't　be　able　to　see　you；　but　two　seats　will　be　reserved　for　you　at　the　Milled　geville；　Georgia；　S。C。　T；　March　l5…16。　Please　e。　Bring　your　nephew；　Tommy；　along　to　keep　you　pany；　because　I'll　be　too　busy　during　the　meet　to　sit　with　you。　I　know　it's　a　long　time　off　and　I　don't　know　how　I'll　be　able　to　wait　that　long　without　seeing　you　again；　but　I　must。
　　I　have　reason　to　hope　that　my　voice　will　e　back　within　the　next　few　months。　A　letter　is　not　the　best　way　to　tell　you　how　I　feel　about　you…I　would　prefer　to　tell　you　in　person；　whispering　into　your　pretty　ear！　Perhaps　I've　written　too　much　already；　but　you　should　have　a　FAIR　idea　of　how　I　feel　about　you。　All　my　love…till　March　15。
　　
　　Frank
　　
　　P。S。　The　Milled　geville　pit　is　north　of　town。　Check　at　any　gas　station　in　town　for　directions。
　　
　　
　　After　sealing　and　addressing　the　envelope　to　Bernice；　it　occurred　to　me　that　she　might　not　know　anything　about　cockfighting　or　what　the　initials　S。C。T。　stood　for…most　of　the　people　in　the　U。S。　thought　that　because　cockfighting　was　illegal　it　had　been　abolished。　I　should　have　spelled　it　out　in　detail；　I　supposed。　But　if　she　made　any　inquiries　at　all；　she　could　find　out　about　it　easily　enough。　Her　nephew　could　do　the　investigating　for　her；　and　my　name　was　certainly　well　known　in　cockfighting　circles。　The　letter　was　better　this　way。　If　she　attended　the　Milledgeville　meet；　I'd　be　able　to　determine　if　she　was　as　interested　in　me　as　she　appeared　to　be。
　　I　walked　down　the　gravel　road　to　the　highway　and　put　the　two　letters　and　some　change　for　stamps　into　my　R。ED。　mailbox。　The　night　was　warm　and　soft　for　late　September；　and　a　gentle　breeze　blew　steadily　across　the　fields。　There　was　a　steady　hum　from　a　million　insects　municating　with　each　other　in　their　own　little　ways。
　　When　I　switched　on　the　overhead　lights　in　the　cockhouse　to　check　the　chickens；　the　Mellhorn　Blacks　jumped　up　and　down　nervously　in　their　coops；　clucking　and　crowing　almost　in　unison。　They　were　all　hungry；　and　I　intended　to　keep　them　that　way。　I　filled　the　water　dips　with　water　and　returned　to　my　shack。　Without　turning　on　the　lights　again；　I　sat　in　the　dark　strumming　away　on　my　new　guitar　until　way　past　midnight。
　　This　was　one　of　the　most　pleasant　evenings　I　have　ever　spent　by　myself。　Although　I　was　tired　after　three　hectic　days　on　the　road　with　Omar；　I　was　much　too　happy　to　sleep。
　　
　　
　　
　　12
　　
　　We　were　unable　to　make　the　first　Southern　Conference　meet；　October　15；　at　Greenville；　Mississippi；　but　there　was　ample　time　to　prepare　our　gamecocks　for　the　sixcock；　November　10　derby　in　Tifton；　Georgia。
　　During　the　interim；　Omar　wrote　to　Pete　Chocolate　at　Pahokee　and　arranged　a　hack　match　at　the　Ocala　cockpit　to　be　held　on　a　Sunday　afternoon　in　two　weeks。　Pete　Chocolate　was　a　worthy　opponent；　although　he　was　eccentric　in　many　ways。　He　was　a　top　cockfighter　and　a　longtime　Southern　Conference　regular　and　usually　fought　Spanish　game　fowl　and　Spanish　crosses。　He　also　had　the　distinction　of　being　the　first　Seminole　Indian　to　graduate　from　the　University　of　Florida　with　a　master's　degree　in　Asian　Studies。　I　don't　know　why　he　wanted　a　degree　in　Asian　Studies；　but　I　know　how　he　got　it。　A　rich　Chinese　pawnbroker　who　had　made　all　his　money　in　Miami　left　an　annual　scholarship　to　the　university　in　Asian　Studies　for　any　Seminole　who　wanted　to　take　it。　The　Chinaman　had　been　dead　for　more　than　fifteen　years；　and　Pete　Chocolate　had　been　the　first　and　only　Seminole　to　take　advantage　of　the　free　degree。
　　Another　peculiarity　about　Pete　was　his　habit　of　wearing　a　black　tuxedo　suit　at　all　times；　even　when　he　handled　in　the　pit。　He　didn't　always　wear　a　white　shirt　and　black　tie　with　the　tuxedo。　Sometimes　he　did；　but　he　occasionally　wore　a　sport　shirt；　a　blue　work　shirt；　or；　as　often　as　not；　no　shirt　at　all。
　　His　master's　degree　and　tuxedo　had　nothing　to　do　with　his　ability　as　a　cockfighter。　He　was　a　top　handler　and　feeder；　and　a　tough　opponent　to　face　in　the　pit。
　　The　check　weights　for　the　hacks　were　4：02；　5：00；　5：06　and　5：10。　This　early　in　the　season；　Pete　only　wanted　to　fight　these　weights；　and　we　had　to　meet　them　in　order　to　get　the　match。　Each　hack　was　to　be　a　separate　pit　battle；　and　we　were　to　put　up　fifty　dollars　a　fight。　With　the　wide　selection　of　cocks　we　had；　it　was　easy　to　meet　the　weights。　I　selected　two　of　Omar's　Roundheads；　one　Ace　Mellhorn　Black；　and　my　5：00　Middleton　Gray。　Although　Icky's　weight　was　only　4：02；　I　put　him　on　the　conditioning　program　too；　in　case　I　could　get　an　extra　hack　for　him。　Before　I　could　enter　Icky　in　the　Milledgeville　Tourney　against　my　old　rival　Jack　Burke；　he　had　to　win　at　least　four　fights。　In　my　opinion；　Icky　was　the　cock　to　beat　Burke's　Little　David。　With　this　eventual　goal　in　mind；　I　intended　to　select　Icky's　four　preliminary　matches　with　care。
　　For　the　first　few　days　of　our　partnership；　Omar　was　often　sullen；　but　he　gradually　came　around　to　my　way　of　conditioning。　To　prepare　a　gamecock　for　the　pit　is　tough　enough　if　he　is　in　good　feather　already；　but　if　the　conditioner　has　to　work　off　excess　fat　at　the　same　time；　his　task　is　doubly　difficult。　When　I　worked　out　a　regular　diet　for　Omar's　flock　of　Roundheads　and　Clarets；　he　objected　bitterly。
　　〃Damn　it；　Frank；〃　he　said；　shoving　my　list　of　feeding　instructions　back　into　my　hand；　〃I　feed　my　cocks　three　times　as　much　as　that！〃
　　We　were　looking　over　Omar's　chickens　at　the　runs　on　his　farm；　so　I　tried　to　show　him　why　the　new　feeding　schedule　was　necessary。　I　picked　one　of　his　Claret　roosters　out　of　a　nearby　coop；　felt　his　meaty　thighs　with　a　dour　expression　on　my　face；　handed　him　to　Omar；　and　nodded　for　him　to　do　the　same。
　　〃He's　hard　as　a　brick；〃　Omar　said　defensively；　squeezing　the　Claret's　legs。
　　I　shook　my　head；　picked　up　a　stick　and　printed　FAT！　on　the　ground　with　the　point　of　it。　Omar　rubbed　out　the　word　with　his　toe；　returned　the　cock　to　the　coop；　and　pawed　through　his　beard。
　　〃All　right。　If　you　say　so；　Frank。　But　he　doesn't　feel　fat　to　me！〃
　　Although　Omar　had　been　fighting　cocks　for　four　years；　it　was　evident　that　he　had　never　〃felt〃　a　truly　conditioned　game…cock。　The　right　feel　of　a　gamecock　is　indescribable。　Maybe　it　is　an　instinct　of　some　kind；　but　if　a　man　ever　gets　the　right　feel　of　a　perfectly　conditioned　gamecock　in　his　f　ingers；　his　fingers　never　forget。　The　exact　right　feel　is　an　incorporeal　knowledge；　and　once　the　fingers　memorize　it；　they　are　never　satisfied　until　they　find　it　again。　When　a　gamecock　has　the　right　feel；　it　is　ready　for　the　pit。　Omar　thought　my　regular　diet　was　drastic；　but　I　had　to　get　the　excess　fat　off　his　birds　before　I　could　put　them　on　my　special　conditioning　diet。
　　I　checked　the　list　again：　1　tablespoon　of　2/3　cracked　corn　and　1/3　whole　oats；　once　a　day；　tossed　into　scratch　pen。　One…fourth　of　an　apple　every　four　days。　Two　ounces　of　hamburger　every　ten　days。　Plenty　of　grit　and　oyster　shells　available　at　all　times。　Keep　the　water　cups　full。
　　This　was　a　good　diet；　a　practical　feed　I　had　learned　through　long　apprenticeship。　The　chickens　wouldn't　starve；　and　they　wouldn't　get　fat。　If　they　had　any　fat　when　they　were　put　on　it；　they　would　lose　it　in　a　hurry。　And　as　long　as　this　diet　was　maintained；　any　cock　could　be　s