Cockfighter - Charles Ray Willeford [54]
Four. Disinfectants. Soda, formaldehyde, sulfur, carbolic acid, oil of tansy, sassafras, creosote, camphor and rubbing alcohol. Insects are a major problem for cockfighters. Lice are almost impossible to get rid of completely, but a continuous fight against them must be fought if a man wants to keep healthy game fowl. Give me a plentiful supply of all these, I wrote on my list.
Five. Turpentine. Five gallons. The one essential fluid a cocker must have for survival. God has seen fit to subject chickens to the most loathsome diseases in the world—pip, gapes, costiveness, diarrhea, distemper, asthma, catarrh, apoplexy, cholera, lime legs, canker and many others. Any one of these sicknesses can knock out a man's entire flock of game fowl before he knows what has happened to him. Fortunately, a feather dipped in turpentine and shoved into a cock's nostrils, or swabbed in his throat, or sometimes just a few drops of turpentine in a bird's drinking water, will prevent or cure many of these diseases. When turpentine fails, I destroy the sick chicken and bury him deep to prevent the spread of his disease.
When I completed my list I sealed it in a hotel envelope, wrote Doc Riordan's name on the outside, and headed for the drugstore where he had part-time work. Doc wasn't in, but the owner said he was expected at noon. Figuring that Doc would freely requisition most of the items on my list from the owner, I decided not to leave it, and to come back later.
I walked to the Western Union office and sent two straight wires. The first wire was to my neighbor and fellow cocker in Ocala, Omar Baradinsky:
HAVE LIGHTS AND WATER TURNED ON AT MY FARM. WILL
REIMBURSE UPON ARRIVAL. F MANSFIELD.
I knew Omar wouldn't mind attending to this chore for me in downtown Ocala and inasmuch as I didn't know what day or what time I would arrive at the farm, I wanted to be certain there was water and electricity when I got there.
The other wire was to Mr. Jake Mellhorn, Altamount, North Carolina. Jake Mellhorn bred and sold a game strain called the Mellhorn Black. It was a rugged breed, and I knew this from watching Blacks fight many times.
These chickens fought equally well in long and short heels, depending upon their conformation and conditioning, but they were unpredictable fighters—some were cutters and others were shufflers—and they had a tendency to alternate their tactics in the pit. As a general rule I prefer cutters over shufflers, but I needed a dozen Aces and a fair price. Jake Mellhorn had been after me for several years to try a season with his Blacks, and I knew that he would give me a fairly low price on a shipment of a dozen. If I won with his game strain at any of the major derbies, he would be able to jack the price up on the game fowl he sold the following season to other cockers. I could win with any hardy, farm-walked game strain that could stand up under my conditioning methods—Claret, Madigan, Whitehackle, Doms—but the excellent cocks I would need would cost too much, especially after putting out five hundred dollars for Icky. It wouldn't hurt anything to send a wire to Jake and find out what he had to offer anyway.
TO: JAKE MELLHORN, ALTAMOUNT, NC.
NEED TWELVE FARM-WALKED COCKS. NO STAGS, NO COOPWALKS
WANTED. PUREBRED MELLHORNS ONLY. NO CROSSES. SEND PRICE
AND DETAILS C/O JEFF DAVIS HOTEL, JACKSONVILLE, FLA.
F. MANSFIELD.
If I knew lake Mellhorn, and I knew the egotistic, self-centered old man well, I'd have a special delivery letter from him within a couple of days. And on my first order, at least, he would send me Aces.
I paid the girl for the wires, and then ate a hamburger at a little one-arm joint down the street before returning to Foster's Drugstore.
Now that the wires were on their way, I felt committed, even though they didn't mean anything in themselves. I felt like I was getting the dice rolling by forcing my luck.
I couldn't pay for the Mellhorns, no matter how good a price Jake gave me. I couldn't even repay