cwilleford.cockfighter-第6部分

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　　I　settled　backed　fortably；　and　Ed　pointed　the　nose　of　the　big　car　toward　Orlando。
　　
　　
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　　Ed　Middleton　is　one　of　my　favorite　people。　He　is　in　his　early　sixties；　and　if　I　happen　to　live　long　enough；　I　want　to　be　exactly　like　him　someday。　He　is　a　big　man　with　a　big　voice　and　a　big　paunch。　Except　for　a　bumpy　bulbous　nose　with　a　few　broken　blood　vessels　here　and　there　on　its　bright　red　surface；　his　face　is　smooth　and　white；　with　the　shiny　licked　look　of　a　dog's　favorite　bone。
　　Against　all　the　odds　for　a　man　his　age；　Mr。　Middleton　still　has　his　hair。　It　is　a　shimmering　silvery　white；　and　he　always　wears　it　in　a　thick　bushy　crew　cut。　A　ghost　of　a　smile…as　though　he　is　thinking　of　some　secret　joke…usually　hovers　about　the　corners　of　his　narrow　lips。　In　southern　cockfighting　circles；　or　anywhere　in　the　world　where　cockers　get　together　for　chicken　talk；　his　name　is　respected　as　the　man　who　bred　the　Middleton　Gray。　Properly　conditioned；　the　purebred　MIddleton　Gray　is　a　true　money　bird。
　　Despite　his　amiable　manner；　Ed　can　get　as　hard　as　any　man　when　the　time　to　get　tough　presents　itself；　and　he　wears　the　coveted　Cocker　of　the　Year　medal　on　his　watch　fob。
　　〃Lost　your　car　and　trailer；　eh　Frank？〃
　　I　nodded。　Bad　news　has　a　way　of　traveling　faster　than　good　news。
　　〃Tough　luck；　Frank。〃　Mr。　Middleton　laughed　aloud。　〃But　I　don't　worry　about　you　landing　on　your　feet。　If　I　know　you；　you've　probably　got　a　rooster　hidden　away　somewhere　that'll　give　Jack　Burke　his　lumps。〃
　　I　smiled　ruefully；　made　an　〃0〃　with　the　thumb　and　forefinger　of　my　left　hand　and　showed　it　to　him。
　　〃I　sure　didn't　suspect　that；　Frank；〃　Mr。　Middleton　said　sympathetically。
　　I　opened　a　fresh　package　of　cigarettes；　offered　them　to　Ed　and　he　waved　them　away。　He　was　silent　for　more　than　ten　minutes；　and　then　he　fingered　his　lower　lip　and　squirmed　about　slightly　in　the　seat。　The　signs　were　easily　recognized。　He　wanted　to　confess　something；　a　problem　of　some　kind　was　on　his　mind。　Two　or　three　times　he　opened　his　mouth；　started　to　speak　his　mind；　and　then　shook　his　head　and　clamped　his　lips　together。　But　he　would　get　it　out　sooner　or　later；　whatever　it　was。　Since　my　vow　of　silence　I　had　bee；　unwillingly；　a　man　who　listened　to　confessions。　Now　that　I　couldn't　talk；　or　wouldn't　talk…no　one；　other　than　myself；　knew　the　truth　about　my　muteness…people　often　told　me　things　they　would　hesitate　to　tell　to　a　priest；　or　even　to　their　wives。　At　first；　it　had　bothered　me；　learning　things　about　people　I　didn't　want　or　need　to　know；　but　now　I　just　listened…not　liking　it；　of　course；　but　accepting　the　confessions　as　an　unwele　part　of　the　deal　I　had　made　with　myself。
　　We　sailed　through　the　little　town　of　Canal　Point　and　hit　Highway　441　bordering　Lake　Okeechobee。
　　From　time　to　time；　when　the　roadbed　was　higher　than　the　dike；　I　got　a　glimpse　of　the　calm　mysterious　lake；　which　was　actually　a　huge　inland　sea。　Small　herds　of　Black　Angus　cattle　were　spotted　every　few　miles　between　the　lake　and　the　highway；　eating　lush　gama　grass；　but　there　were　very　few　houses　along　the　way。　Lake　Okeechobee；　with　its　hundreds　of　fish　and　clear　sweet　water；　is　a　sportsman's　paradise；　but　the　great　flood　of　the　early　twenties；　when　thousands　of　people　were　drowned；　had　discouraged　realestate　development；　I　supposed。　No　plush　resort　hotels　or　motels　had　ever　been　built　near　its　banks。
　　〃Frank；〃　Ed　Middleton　said　at　last；　lowering　his　voice　to　conspiratorial　tones；　〃today's　pitting　at　Belle　Glade　was　my　last　appearance　at　a　cockpit。　Surprises　you；　doesn't　it？〃
　　It　did　indeed。　I　reached　up　and　twisted　the　rear…view　mirror　into　position　so　Ed　could　look　at　my　face　without　taking　his　eyes　off　the　highway　too　much。　I　looked　seriously　into　the　mirror　and　widened　my　eyes　slightly。
　　〃Nobody　can　keep　a　secret　long　in　this　business；　Frank；　but　I've　kept　my　plans　to　myself　to　avoid　the　usual　arguments。　I've　argued　the　pros　and　cons　of　cockfighting　thousands　of　times；　and　you　know　I've　always　been　on　the　pro　side。　If　there's　a　better　way　of　life　than　raising　and　fighting　game　chickens；　I　haven't　found　it　yet；〃　he　said　grimly。　〃But　I'm　a　married　man；　Frank；　and　you　aren't。　That's　the　difference。　I'm　happily　married；　and　I　have　been　for　more　than　thirty　years；　but　I　can　still　envy　a　man　like　you。　There　aren't　a　dozen　men　in　the　United　States　who've　devoted　their　lives　solely　to　cockfighting　like　you　have；　that　is；　without　earning　their　living　in　some　other　line　of　business。
　　〃I　suppose　I've　known　you　for　ten　years　or　more　and；　as　a　single　man；　you've　got　the　best　life　in　the　world。　You've　earned　the　admiration　and　respect　of　all　of　us；　Frank。〃
　　I　was　embarrassed　by　the　praise。
　　〃That　was　a　clever　trick　you　pulled　this　afternoon；　Frank！〃
　　I　started　with　surprise；　and　Mr。　Middleton　guffawed　loudly。
　　〃I　haven't　seen　anyone　pull　that　stunt　with　the　cracked　bill　to　raise　the　odds　in　about　fifteen　years。　Don't　blame　yourself　for　losing　the　fight。　Write　it　off　to　bad　luck；　or　face　up　that　Jack　Burke　had　the　better　chicken。　But　that　isn't　what　I　wanted　to　talk　about。
　　〃Martha　has　been　after　me　to　quit　for　years；　and　I　finally　gave　in。　I'm　not　too　old；　but　I　certainly　don't　need　the　money。　I've　got　enough　orange　trees　in　Orlando　to　take　care　of　my　wants　for　three　lifetimes。　If　Martha　shared　my　enthusiasm　for　the　game；　it　would　be　different。　But　she　won't　go　on　the　road　with　me。　This　business　of　living　alone　in　motel　rooms　doesn't　appeal　to　me　anymore。　The　two　months　I　spent　refereeing　in　Clovis；　New　Mexico；　last　spring　were　the　loneliest　weeks　of　my　entire　life。
　　〃Anyway；　I've　sold　all　my　Grays。　Made　a　deal　for　the　lot　with　a　breeder　in　Janitzio；　Mexico；　and　shipped　out　the　last　crate　of　April　trios　last　week。　If　he　fights　my　Grays　as　slashers；　he'll　lose　his　damned　camisa；　but　at　any　rate；　they　won't　be　fighting　in　the　States。
　　〃If　you　wonder　why　I　refereed　today's　fight；　it　was　because　I　promised　Captain　Mack　a　year　ago。　But　that　was　my　last　appearance　in　the　pit；　and　you　won't　see　me　in　the　pits　again；　either　as　a　referee　or　spectator。〃　Ed　sighed　deeply；　his　confession　pleted。　〃Like　the　lawyer　feller　says；　Frank；　'Further　deponent　sayeth　not。〃
　　Several　dissuading　arguments　came　immediately　to　my　mind；　but　I　remained　silent；　of　course。　As　far　as　I　was　concerned；　what　Ed　Middleton　did　was　his　business；　not　mine；　but　his　loss　to　the　game　would　be　felt　in　the　South。　We　needed　men　like　him　to　keep　the　sport　clean　and　honest。　But　I　didn't　say　anything　because　of　my　self…imposed　vow　of　silence。
　　Up　to　this　moment　I've　never　told　anyone　why　I　made　the　vow。　What　I　do　is　my　business；　but　the　silver　medal　on　Ed　Middleton's　watch　fob　held　the　answer。　Money　had　nothing　to　do　with　my　decision　to　keep　my　mouth　shut。
　　All　of　us　in　America　want　money　because　we　need　it　and　cannot　live　without　it；　but　we　don't　need　as　much　money　as　most　of　us　think　we　do。　Money　isn't　enough。　We　must　have　something　more；　and　my　something　more　was　the　Cockfighter　of　the　Year　award。
　　The　small　silver　coin　on　Ed's　watch　fob　was　only　worth；　in　cash；　about　ten　or　fifteen　dollars；　but　a　lot　of　men　have　settled　for　lesser　honors。　A　man　may　refuse　a　clerk's　job　with　a　loan　pany；　for　instance；　for　one　hundred　dollars　a　week。　But　if　this　same　man　is　put　in　charge　of　three　typists　and　is　given　the　exalted　title　of　office　manager；　the　chances　are　that　he　will　work　for　ninety　dollars　a　week。　In　business；　this　is　a　well…known　〃for　instance。〃
　　Unlike　Great　Britain；　we　don't　have　any　peerages　to　hand　out；　or　any　annual　Queen's　Honors　List；　so　most　of　us　settle　for　less；　a　hell　of　a　lot　less。　In　large　corporations；　the　businessman　has　reached　his　goal　in　life　when　he　gets　a　title　on　his　door　and　a　corner　office　with　two　windows　instead　of　one。　But　I'm　not　a　businessman。　I　am　a　full…time　cockfighter。
　　My　goal　in　life　was　that　little　silver　coin；　not　quite　as　large　as　a　Kennedy　half　dollar。　On　one　side　of　the　medal　there　is　an　engraved　statement：　Cockfighter　of　the　Year。　In　the　center；　the　year　the　award　is　given　is　engraved　in　Arabic　numerals。　At　the　bottom　of　the　coin　are　three　capital　letters：　S。C。T　These　letters　stand　for　Southern　Conference　Tournament。
　　To　a　noncocker；　this　desire　might　sound　childish；　but；　to　a　cockfighter；　this　award　is　his　ultimate　achievement　in　one　of　the　toughest　sports　in　the　world。　The　medal　is　awarded　to　the　man　Senator　Jacob　Foxhall　decides　to　give　it　to　at　the　pletion　of　the　annual　S。C。T。　held　in　Milledgeville；　Georgia。　However；　Senator　Foxhall　doesn't　always　see　fit　to　award　the　medal。　In　the　last　fifteen　years　he　has　only　awarded　the　medal　to　four　cockfighters。　Ed　Middleton　was　one　of　them。
　　In　addition　to　the　medal'　there　is　a　cash　award　of　one　thousand　dollars。　In　effect；　the　cocker　who　wins　this　award　has　the　equivalent　of　a　paid…up　insurance　policy。　He　can　demand　a　minimum　fee　of　one　hundred　and　fifty　dollars　a　day　as　a　referee　from　any　pit　operator　in　the　South；　and　the　operator　considers　it　an　honor　to　pay　him。　To　a　cocker；　this　medal　means　as　much　as　the　Nobel　Prize　does　to　a　scientist。　If　that　doesn't　convey　an　exact　meaning　of　the　award；　I　can　state　it　simpler。　The　recipient　is　the　best　damned　cockfighter　in　the　South；　and　he　has　the　medal　to　prove　it。
　　For　ten　years　this　medal　has　been　my　goal。　The　S。C。T。　is　the　toughest　pit　tourney　in　the　United　States；　and　a　cockfighter　can't　enter　his　game　fowl　without　an　invitation。　Only　top　men　in　the　game　receive　invitations；　and　I　had　been　getting　mine　for　eight　years…even　during　the　two　years　I　was　in　the　akmy　and　stationed　in　the　Philippine　Islands。
　　A　vow　of　silence；　however；　isn't　necessary　to　pete　for　the　award。　That　had　been　my　own　idea；　and　not　a　very　bright　idea　either；　but　I　was　too　damned　stubborn　to　break　it。
　　Three　years　before　I　had　been　riding　high　on　the　list　of　eligible　S。C。T。　cockfighters。　In　a　hotel　room　in　Bioxi；　I　had　gotten　drunk　with　a　group　of　chicken　men；　and　shot　off　my　big　mouth；　boasting　about　my　Ace　cock；　a　Red　Madigan　named　Freelance。
　　Another　drunken　breeder　challenged　me；　and　we　staged　the　fight　in　the　hotel　room。　Freelance　killed　the　other　cock　easily；　but　in　the　fight　he　received　a　slight　battering。　The　next　day　at　the　scheduled　S。C。T。　pitting；　I