cwilleford.cockfighter-第40部分

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d　a　wristwatch　by　the　pit　officials　as　the　Most　Sportsmanlike　Handler　in　the　Bioxi　derby。　My　partner　was　as　pleased　with　this　award　as　I　was；　but　he　wouldn't　admit　it。　I　knew　that　Omar　was　proud　of　the　award　because　he　put　his　Rolex　away；　and；　from　that　day　forward；　wore　the　wristwatch　he　was　given　at　Bioxi…a　cheap；　16。50　Timex。
　　My　partner　didn't　attend　the　Alabama　meet　with　me。　The　meet　at　Auburn　on　January　29　coincided　with　his　wife's　annual　visit　to　Florida。　I　never　met　the　woman；　but　I　had　seen　a　half…dozen　snapshots　she　had　mailed　to　him　that　had　been　taken　at　Fire　Island。　In　the　photos；　all　six　of　them　taken　in　a　crocheted　bikini；　she　looked　brittle；　thin　and　febrile…eyed。　She　didn't　look　particularly　sexy　to　me；　but　inasmuch　as　it　was　costing　my　partner　more　than　twelve　thousand　a　year　to　keep　her　in　New　York　City；　I　couldn't　begrudge　him　a　week　in　bed　with　her。　He　was　entitled　to　that　much；　I　figured。
　　Johnny　Norris　of　Birmingham　won　the　Auburn　derby；　and　I　came　in　third。　Four　of　my　Allen　Roundheads　were　killed　during　the　meet；　but　I　won　two　thousand　five　hundred　dollars。　A　carload　of　arsenal　employees　drove　over　from　Huntsville；　Alabama；　and　I　won　most　of　my　money　from　them。　When　it　came　to　cockfighting；　these　rocket　makers　didn't　know　which　way　was　up。　In　a　post…derby　hack；　I　pitted　Icky　against　an　Arkansas　Traveler　that　ran　like　a　gazelle　in　the　second　pitting。
　　Our　veterans　took　every　fight　in　the　February　24　Ocala　derby。　They　fought　in　the　familiar　pit　as　though　they　were　defending　their　home　territory　and　hens　against　invaders　from　outer　space。　Out　of　fourteen　pit　battles；　I　only　carried　out　one　bird。　In　order　to　get　bets；　Omar　was　forced　to　give　three…to…one　odds　on　every　fight；　but　we　stifi　made　eighteen　hundred　dollars　on　the　Ocala　derby　and　hacks。
　　
　　
　　As　the　weeks　passed；　I　kept　as　busy　as　possible。　My　personal　life；　perhaps；　may　have　seemed　dull；　but　I　loved　the　way　I　lived。　On　my　way　home　at　night；　after　a　day　of　conditioning　at　Omar's　farm；　I　often　selected　a　book　out　of　my　partner's　library。　Like　a　lot　of　businessmen　in　New　York；　he　had　always　wanted　to　read　books；　but　never　had　enough　time。　When　he　moved　permanently　to　Florida；　he　ordered　a　plete　set　of　the　Modern　Library；　including　the　Giants。　Starting　at　the　lowest　number；　I　was　gradually　working　my　way　through　them。　By　March；　I　was　up　to　The　Plays　of　Hen　rik　Ibsen。
　　Not　only　did　I　get　up　with　the　chickens；　I　went　to　bed　with　them　as　well；　but　I　still　had　time　for　reading　and　for　playing　my　guitar。　My　partner　had　asked　me　to　stay　at　his　house；　but　I　declined。　I　liked　Omar；　everybody　did；　but　we　were　together　all　day；　and　that　was　enough。　Both　of　us　were　entitled　to　privacy；　and　I　think　he　was　relieved　when　I　decided　to　sleep　at　my　own　farm。
　　Omar　Baradinsky；　like　any　man　who　has　strong　opinions；　liked　to　talk　about　the　things　he　was　interested　in。　This　was　understandable；　and　most　of　the　time　I　enjoyed　the　insight　he　revealed　on　many　subjects。　However；　to　listen　to　him　every　night；　especially　when　he　got　a　little　high　on　John　Jameson；　was　too　much。　Unable　to　talk　back；　I　had　to　grit　my　teeth　sometimes　to　prevent　myself　from　setting　him　straight　when　he　got　off　the　track。
　　Against　the　day　when　my　vow　was　over　and　I　could　talk　again；　I　made　little　entries　in　a　notebook。　Someday；　Old　Boy；　I　thought；　I'm　going　to　set　you　straight　on　every　one　of　these　topics。　If　we　hadn't　separated　every　evening；　our　partnership　probably　wouldn't　have　lasted　the　entire　season。　As　it　happened；　we　were　still　friends　after　more　than　five　months。　Because　we　were　friends；　I　was　worried。　We　were　leaving　the　next　morning　and　I　didn't　want　to　hurt　my　partner's　feelings　or　interfere　in　any　way　with　his　individuality。　But　when　it　came　to　the　Milledgeville　Tourney；　Omar　had　a　serious　problem；　and　it　was　up　to　me　to　explain　it　to　him。
　　On　the　afternoon　of　March　13　we　sat　across　from　each　other　at　the　big　oak　table　in　Omar's　living　room　going　over　the　ledger　and　our　accumulated　records　in　preparation　for　the　tourney。　We　had　received　a　telegram　the　week　before　from　Senator　Foxhall　reconfirming　our　joint　entry　in　the　tournament　and　acknowledging　receipt　of　our　five…　hundred…dollar　entry　fee。　The　wire　also　told　us　that　there　would　be　only　eight　entries　instead　of　the　ten　originally　scheduled。　Two　entries　had　forfeited。
　　〃It's　going　to　make　a　big　difference；　Frank；〃　Omar　said；　rereading　the　telegram　for　the　tenth　time　that　day。　His　initial　delight　over　our　joint…acceptance…which　in　my　mind　had　never　been　in　doubt…had　gradually　turned　to　concern　about　whether　we　would　win　the　tourney　or　not。
　　〃I　know　we　won't　need　as　many　cocks　as　we　figured　on；〃　he　continued；　〃but　neither　will　the　other　seven　entries。　Every　cock　in　the　tourney　will　be　a　topflight　Ace。〃
　　I　nodded　understandingly。　Omar's　concern　was　justified。　With　only　eight　entries　instead　of　ten　the　petition　would　be　a　lot　stiffer。　In　parison　with　a　derby；　a　major　tournament　is　a　plicated　ordeal。　The　matchmaker　for　a　tourney　has　a　pounded　headache。　In　setting　up　the　matches　for　a　derby；　the　matchmaker　only　has　to　match　the　cocks　to　be　shown　at　the　closest　possible　weights。
　　In　a　tournament；　every　entry　must　meet　each　other　at　least　once。　Not　only　is　the　matchmaking　more　plicated；　each　tourney　entry　must　have　an　Ace　for　every　weight…　that　is；　if　he　expects　to　win。
　　I　wanted　to　win　the　tourney　just　as　much　as　Omar　did；　but　this　was　my　fifth　try　against　my　partner's　first；　and　I　refused　to　worry　about　winning。　There　was　nothing　more　either　one　of　us　could　do　except　pray。　We　had　to　fight　the　gamecocks　we　had；　and　they　were　in　the　peak　of　condition。　To　worry　needlessly　about　winning　was　foolhardy。
　　〃Do　you　think　we've　selected　the　right　cocks？〃
　　I　nodded。
　　〃That's　it；　then。〃　Omar　closed　the　ledger。　〃I'm　not　taking　our　entire　bankroll；　Frank。　Four　thousand　is　in　the　bank；　and　I'm　leaving　it　there。　That　way；　if　we　lose；　we'll　still　have　two　thousand　apiece　to　show　for　the　season。　I'm　taking　eight　thousand　in　cash　to　the　tourney；　and　I'm　going　to　lay　it　fight　by　fight　instead　of　putting　it　all　down　on　the　oute。　No　matter　what　happens；　we'll　stifi　have　a　fifty…fifty　chance　of　ing　home　with　a　bundle。　Now；　just　in　case　we　win　the　tourney；　how　much　do　we　stand　to　win？〃
　　I　wrote　the　information　on　a　tablet；　and　shoved　it　across　the　polished　table。
　　
　　Not　counting　our　separate　bets…
　　8　entries　@　500　each 4；000
　　Sen。　Foxhall　purse 2；000
　　Total 6；000
　　
　　If　I　win　the　Cockfighter　of　the　Year　Award；　that'll　be
　　another　1；000
　　
　　Omar　dragged　a　hand　through　his　beard　as　he　looked　at　the　figures。　〃Doesn't　Senator　Foxhall　take　a　percentage　of　the　entry　fees　like　the　derby　promoters？〃　he　asked。
　　I　shook　my　head　and　smiled。　The　senator　wasn't　interested　in　money。　He　had　more　money　than　he　knew　what　to　do　with；　but　he　would　still　e　out　even　and　probably　ahead。　There　would　be　at　least　four　hundred　spectators　at　the　two…day　tourney　paying　a　ten…dollar　admission　fee　each　day。　And　the　senator　would　make　a　profit　from　his　restaurant；　too。　The　Milledgeville　cockpit　was　seven　miles　out　in　the　country。　Where　else　could　the　visitors　eat？
　　〃Do　you　have　to　win　the　tourney　to　get　the　Cockfighter　of　the　Year　award；　Frank？〃　Omar　asked　me。
　　I　spread　my　arms　wide　and　shrugged　my　shoulders。
　　I　didn't　really　know。　Senator　Foxhall　hadn't　given　the　award　to　anybody　in　three　years；　and　it　was　possible　that　he　wouldn't　give　the　medal　again　this　year。　All　I　knew　was　that　the　senator　awarded　the　medal　to　the　man　he　thought　deserved　it。　I　didn't　want　to　think　about　it。
　　I　studied　my　partner　across　the　table。　If　anything；　his　beard　was　blacker　and　more　unkempt　than　it　had　been　at　the　beginning　of　the　season。　He　still　wore　his　bib　overalls；　short…sleeved　work　shirt　and　high…topped　work　shoes。　During　our　association；　I　had　never　seen　him　dressed　differently。　He　was　a　free　American　and　entitled　to　dress　any　way　he　pleased。　Once　a　week；　when　he　took　a　bath；　he　changed　his　overalls；　but　he　wore　them　everywhere　he　went；　to　dinner　when　we　ate　in　Ocala；　and　downtown　when　we　had　fought　in　Bioxi。　Everywhere。　This　was　my　problem；　and　I　had　to　tell　him。　I　pulled　the　tablet　toward　me　and　began　to　write。
　　
　　
　　Here　are　some　things　about　the　tourney　I　have　to　tell　you。　As　official　entries；　we'll　be　put　up　in　Senator　Foxhall's　home；　and　eat　our　meals　there。　We　don't　have　to　wear　tuxes　for　dinner；　but　we　do　have　to　wear　coats　and　ties。　Entries　and　spectators　alike　are　not　admitted　to　the　pit　unless　they　wear　suits　and　ties。　This　is　a　custom　of　the　tourney　out　of　respect　to　Senator　Foxhall。　But　he's　really　a　good　man。　He　was　never　a　real　senator；　I　mean　in　Congress。　He　was　a　Georgia　state　senator　in　the　late　twenties。　But　for　whatever　it　means；　he's　a　gentleman　of　the　old　school　and　we　have　to　abide　by　the　customs。　I　don't　mind　wearing　a　suit　and　tie　in　the　pit　and　you　shouldn't　either；　because　it's　an　honor　to　fight　at　Milled　geville。
　　I　also　have　a　personal　problem；　two　of　them。　I've　made　seat　reservations　for　four　people。　My　fiancée　and　her　brother；　and　for　Mrs。　Bernice　Hungerford　and　her　nephew。　This　was　several　months　ago。　I　don't　know　if　they're　ing…neither　woman　has　written　or　wired　me。　I　don't　care。　Well；　I　won't　lie。　I　DO　care。　If　they　e；　help　me　entertain　them。　I'll　be　handling　most　of　the　time；　and　you　'll　have　to　give　them　some　attention　for　me。　Neither　woman　has　seen　a　cockfight　before。　My　fiancée's　name　is　Mary　Elizabeth　Gaylord　。　。　。
　　
　　I　looked　over　the　message；　which　had　taken　two　sheets　of　tablet　paper；　and　then　passed　it　to　Omar。　He　scanned　it　slowly；　folded　the　two　sheets；　put　them　carefully　in　his　shirt　pocket　and　entered　his　bedroom。
　　He　slammed　the　door　behind　him。
　　I　wanted　to　damn　Omar's　sensitive　soul；　but　I　couldn't。　The　custom　of　the　cockpit　wasn't　my　doing；　but　I　felt　ashamed。　To　dictate　a　person's　wearing　apparel　is　a　violation　of　every　human　right；　but　I　had　been　forced　to　tell　my　partner　about　the　custom　or　he　wouldn't　have　been　allowed　through　the　gate。
　　After　fifteen　minutes　had　passed；　and　Omar　still　didn't　reappear；　I　got　out　of　my　chair　and　knocked　softly　on　his　door。
　　〃I'll　be　out　in　a　minute；〃　he　cal