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Show 55 a mark on him and he grinning like he'd just won an Olympics gold medal. Wearing an open-necked sport shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he combed his hair with both hands, one to smooth, and his biceps bunched up against the rolled sleeves as if to split them. Somebody said the fight had been over Buck's sister, something some CCC boy had said about her or to her, and I drifted on until I found the boy inside another group, they like trainers in his corner. His khaki uniform was dirty, his long straight lank hair was down in his face, pale and sick looking, and he was crying and bending over and holding his crotch. He looked dumb enough to get mixed up with Buck; he looked dumb enough to pat the wrong end of a wild horse. What surprised me was that Loretta was there, her yellow hair in ringlets down to her shoulders, her face round and smooth and pleasant in a coarse way, and with a round-hipped and bouncy-breasted body that made me stare, and she had one arm around that guy's shoulders to hold him up against her, brushing the hair out of his eyes, calling him honey and telling him not to worry, everything was going to be all right. God, what a stupid mess. Arcadia had a ladies' room even with plumbing, often criticized, but the men were expected to go out back and add their bit to the swamp, the banks of which were slick with urine, and later when I had to go, I found myself next to three CCC boys standing in a row, one a tall guy at least six-four with a rangy frame and an iron face. "It ain't none of your business, Slip," a shorter one said to him. "I'm making it my business. Nobody kicks my buddy in the nuts and gets away with it." He had a faint southern accent, maybe Texas. "Better watch out for that deputy." "You watch out for him. I'm gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch." He moved off and the other two hurried to button up. "He will kill him too. We'd better stop him." |
