Raintree County (132 page)

—Hell, I forgot this boy ain't even weaned yet! Flash said. Flash's toadies laughed.

—You goin' to let him git away with that, young Shawnessy? one of them said.

—Heck, no! Johnny said. I can beat this man running or drinking. Come on.

Flash Perkins gave a great laugh and hit Johnny between the shoulderblades.

—Come on, Garwood! he yelled. It's O.K. now, ain't it, boy?

Garwood didn't say anything, but followed Johnny and the rest of the crowd into the Saloon, as Flash walked through the batwing doors without bothering to put out his hand. Johnny and Flash went over to the bar and each put a foot on the brass rail. Half a hundred men shoved into the Saloon and crowded around the two competitors. Everyone was talking at once.

—Johnny Shawnessy is goin' to drink with Flash Perkins, a citizen said.

—Hell, he can't do that, another citizen said. Ain't nobody in Raintree County can drink with that crazy buck glass for glass.

—Say, it'd be smart, a third citizen said, to take a little more of Carney's money. They say this Shawnessy kid is fast as greased lightnin', but that whiskey'll kill 'im.

—What'll it be, boys? Jake the barkeep said.

He was a nervous young man in a white apron.

—You name it, and I'll drink it, Flash said to Johnny.

—What have you got? Johnny said.

—Here's a couple bottles bourbon, the barkeep said. Raw stuff. Right out a the still.

He got two water tumblers and opened both bottles.

—Each boy can have a bottle, he said.

Just then two men in the
Clarion
crowd grabbed Cash Carney and pulled him out of the ring and began to talk bets at two to one. Meanwhile, the barkeep poured one of the tumblers full, set it down in front of Flash, took the other bottle, and started to pour for Johnny.

—Just a minute there! boomed an authoritative voice.

Garwood Jones leaned over the counter, pointed to the bottle, and said,

—Let's have those drinks poured from the same bottle.

The barkeep looked at Johnny, and Johnny looked around for Cash, but Cash was clear out of sight. The barkeep hesitated and smiled a queer smile. He tried to bluff.

—You mean to say——he began in a small voice.

—I mean to say, Garwood said in his doublebass, full volume, that I don't want any shenanigans around here. Let's have it fair and square and both boys drinking from the same bottle.

The barkeep shrugged his shoulders, put the bottle back on a shelf. He took the first bottle and poured a short tumblerful for Johnny.

—Fill it up! Garwood said, the trace of a laugh coming into his voice. Fill that goddam glass up!

The barkeep shrugged his shoulders and complied. He set the glass down in front of Johnny.

Johnny looked at the tumblerful of whiskey. It was a beautiful amber fluid with a few clear bubbles at the edges. A dense wall of sweaty male bodies and flushed faces shut him in.

—Jesus, boy! a man whispered, you better quit right now. Flash Perkins was weaned on that stuff.

Johnny looked around for Cash and saw him waving his cigar from the corner.

—You all right, John? he yelled.

—I guess so, Johnny said weakly.

Everybody laughed. Garwood's eyes were innocent and remote as he boomed,

—All right, drink up, boys! Let's get started here. I'll have a little of that myself, Jake, but make mine just half. I can't stick it with these Cold Water Army people.

Everybody laughed. Flash Perkins took his glass and stuck it into his grinning beard. It gurgled in his throat like water. Johnny Shawnessy picked up the tumbler and . . .

ROUND ONE

(Epic Fragment from the
Mythic Examiner
)

Without more ado, the referee withdrew and the bruising contest began. Nervous but plucky, the fairhaired hope from the Upper
Shawmucky advanced with a tentative left hand while the Champion, serenely confident, took the opening gambit in stride. He seemed not to be conscious of the stiff wallop that caught him flush in the puss. The Challenger on the other hand was seen to absorb a jolt in the midsection that staggered him and made him stare and hang on. The remainder of the first round was without incident, and . . .

—How did it go, John? Garwood said, after everyone had stopped laughing and the tears had left Johnny's eyes.

Johnny stood holding the empty glass.

—Nothing to it, he said.

—Come on, Flash yelled. Here, give us another glass. I'm thirsty.

—Not that it affects me the least little bit, Johnny said, but I just don't see what you guys get out of it. It tastes awful.

The barkeep poured two more glasses. Johnny watched the thick stream gurgling into the bright white glass. His insides felt like fire.

ROUND TWO

(Epic Fragment from the
Mythic Examiner
)

Between rounds the Champion laughed and shook hands with his ringside followers. At the start of the second round he moved unconcernedly to the middle of the ring where he collided headon with his thoroughly aroused and determined antagonist. Both fighters absorbed hard belts to the body, and the Challenger seemed to get something the worst of it. But when he stepped back he was smiling and appeared not to know what had hit him. However, it was later remembered that at the close of this round he went to the wrong corner and had to be directed to his place. There are those who opine that from here on he had no idea what was taking place and . . .

—How do you feel, John?

It was Zeke who had shouldered his way into the crowd.

—I feel fine, Johnny said.

Zeke looked blurred and huge as he leaned over and smelled the glass.

—That's enough, Zeke said. This boy ain't use to strong liquor.

—Don't spoil the fun, Zeke, Garwood said. This boy dared Flash.

—Don't worry about me, Zeke, Johnny said. There's nothing to it. Just a burning sensation.

He felt heroically strong. The world was a place of laughing gods,
bathed in yellow fire. He knew now that he would win the race in the Court House Square and become the Hero of Raintree County.

Someone hit him between the shoulderblades.

—Fill 'em up! Flash Perkins yelled.

—Stand back and give the boy a chance! Garwood boomed. Fill 'em up, Jake, and let's have . . .

ROUND THREE

(Epic Fragment from the
Mythic Examiner
)

At the commencement of the third round, the Challenger threw all caution to the winds. He rushed wildly about, extending himself to the utmost. A series of lethal lunges from his veteran opponent left his face flushed and his eyes out of focus. Dead game, he was still slugging merrily at the bell and had to be carried more or less forcibly to his corner, where he insisted on struggling weakly to his feet and had to be held down by main . . .

—Hell's fire, Flash said, son, you're doin' all right for a youngster. Yippee!

Flash shoved a hole in the crowd and did a handspring in the middle of the Saloon. Someone gave an Indian yell and began to wardance on top of the bar. Looking into the mirror, Johnny Shawnessy perceived that it was himself. He sprang five feet straight up into the air and came down to the floor, where he found himself looking into Cash Carney's trim, serious face.

—Say, what the hell! Cash whispered. This is
some
act.

Cash picked up the glass and smelled it.

—Ouch! he said. What's goin' on around here?

A band began to play right in front of the Saloon, and Flash Perkins stood on his hands on the bar. He jumped from the bar, caught hold of a chandelier in the room, swung back and forth. Johnny took a running leap, went clear over a table in the middle of the room. Flash Perkins put one table on top of another, jumped over head first. Johnny followed him over. Someone picked him up, and he found himself standing at the bar again with another tumblerful of whiskey in his hand. Two tough-looking guys supervised by Garwood Jones were holding Cash Carney in a corner.

—Come on, Jack, Flash Perkins was saying, we'll show these folks
how
tew drink.

The band outside was playing ‘Yankee Doodle,' and a boy threw a lighted firecracker through the door.

—Jesus Christ! Cash yelled from the corner. Get him to stop, Zeke. It'll kill'im.

—Come on, boys! boomed the voice of Garwood Jones. Drink up! By the way, Cash, how would you like to take a little more of my money before . . .

ROUND FOUR

(Epic Fragment from the
Mythic Examiner
)

The fourth and final round of the famous exhibition beggared description. All eyes were focused on the Champion for whom it was clearly a case of now or never. He moved out menacingly, stalking his slender prey for the kill. But the boy somehow managed to evade the knockout wham until just a few seconds before the closing bell, at which time the Champion lifted one from somewhere around the far corner of the arena. The crowd could see it coming from way back, but the intended recipient of this Sabbath Sock seemed to be hypnotized. When it got there, it picked the brave form of the Hope of Danwebster gently off the floor and . . .

Flash Perkins completed a series of handsprings down the top of the bar landing feet first on a chair that folded up like matchwood under his feet.

—Let's see you do that, Jack.

Johnny was on the bar and turning. The ceiling tipped and turned over, tipped and turned over, tipped and turned over. Something fell solidly on the back of his neck. He started to get up and the saloon floor came up gently and hit him a stunning wallop in the face. He sprang straight up in the air and found Zeke and Cash holding him.

—Take it easy, John! Cash said. Goddammit, do you realize that the Race is just half an hour away and that I got nearly a hundred dollars bet on you! Can you still run, boy?

—Can I run? Johnny said gently.

He smiled his affectionate smile and then like a great blithe bird shot out between the batwing doors. Head erect, coat flying, he ran on long, floating strides down the street with Cash Carney, Zeke Shawnessy, and half a hundred men and boys behind him.

—Catch 'im! Cash said.

—No one in the County can do that, Zeke said, stopping. Look at 'im go! He's turnin' the corner now. Let's wait here and catch him when he comes around.

Faces blurred past Johnny Shawnessy, as he ran on and on, drawing a bright circumference on bounding feet. The breath began to pump pleasantly in his lungs. He was going down the east side of the Square, he was leaning over for the corner, he was running down the north side, he was turning, he was running down the west side. But now he had a great weight sitting on his neck and dragging at his whole body. He turned again at the corner and started down the south side where the Saloon was. A crowd of faces and arms spread out, closed in around him, and caught his vaulting body.

—Let's get him upstairs here, Cash said.

Johnny came to, naked and gasping, as buckets of cold water hit him. Something had been aching in spasms.

—Keep throwing it on him, Cash said. And someone go down and get Flash as drunk as possible.

—No chance, someone said. Garwood's got him under control.

—But not till he run around the Square, someone said, to show he could do it as well as Johnny.

—We still got a chance, Cash said. Hell, if John had only saved that till the Race! Cuss that Garwood Jones! That was a mean, sneakin' trick he played. I reckon he knew all the time what we planned to do.

—Hell, he's down there now laughin' fit to kill, someone said. He says he took Jake's girl out the other night, got her drunk, and got the whole story out of her.

—And I'll bet that ain't all he got either, someone said.

—Goddam that Garwood! Cash said. Imagine playin' a trick like that on your best friend, and poor John here that never had a drink in his life before! Let me see, it's fifteen till. We still got a quarter hour to get this boy sober. How d'yuh feel, John?

Johnny sat up in the tub. The sickness was gone. He felt woozy and wonderful. He got up.

—Keep throwin' that water on him, Cash said. I hope they didn't puke Flash. I'm goin' down to see if I can delay the start.

He went over to the window and looked out.

—Jesus, lover of my soul, look at that crowd! he said. Must be two thousand people. They're all lined up along the course right now, and Susanna's on the platform. We should of charged admission. We can't delay it long, but I'll try. After all, they can't start the Race without the contestants.

Cash went out, but in five minutes he was back.

—Flash is rarin' to go, he said. He's beatin' his chest and yellin' for action. We got to get John down there.

—I'm all right, Johnny said.

He walked over to the window. People were beginning to clap and shout.

—We want Johnny! We want Johnny!

Their hands and voices beat excitement through him. His head wasn't clear, but he felt strong.

—Come on, he said. Let's go.

He dried himself and belted on a pair of white flannel trousers, except for which he was naked. He combed his hair back and went downstairs. Barefooted, he walked into the street with Cash Carney and . . .

OLYMPIC GAMES, 1859

(Epic Fragment from the
Mythic Examiner
)

Now they bring forward the young Athenian stripped for the contest. The young man shakes his tawny locks. His feet touch springing on thrown petals. His shoulders gleam in the sun. His supple back is straight as an upright spear. The muscles of his legs are clearly shown in the bright air as are the cupped breasts of chrystoelephantine Athena. . . .

—Yea, Flash, the crowd yelled. Looking back, Johnny saw . . .

OLYMPIC GAMES, 1859

(Epic Fragment from the
Mythic Examiner
)

That other, the bronzed Spartan, he too comes forward now for the running. Amazement takes the breath of the onlookers, to see the vast fashioning of his chest and shoulders. His muscles are like rocks left glistening from the sea. His brown hair waves in the wind. His great calves bulge, and the maidens blush to behold him. . . .