"Dalmas,.John.-.Lion.Of.Farside.2.-.Bavarian.Gate.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

bank in '31, when he couldn't make the mortgage payments. "A casualty of the
Hard Times," Ferris called himself, without apparent rancor. On Saturdays he
left right after supper, and came back late Sunday. As Charley saw it, Ferris
would leave when times got better-he'd want a place of his own again but Frank's
boy already liked to work with his Grampa Macurdy on the farm, when school let
out in Salem. Said he wanted to be a farmer.
The first Sunday, Curtis went to church with his parents. He'd have preferred
not to, but he knew it would please his mother. Folks looked askingly at him,
but after the service they simply shook his hand, commenting on how good he
looked. Pastor Fleming asked how old he was now, and told him he looked as young
and strong as he ever had. The young part was ridiculous, Curtis told himself,
considering the reverend had known him since he was fourteen.
As young as ever. A foretaste of problems to come.
Max and Julie and their kids came for dinner after church that day, and Julie,
being Julie, asked questions his parents never would have, like "what country
was it?", meaning where Varia came from. He thought of answering "Hungary"-that
would do it-but he was tired of lying. "Yuulith," he told her instead, adding
"that's their name for it." She'd look it up when she got home, he knew, and not
finding it, would probably let be. Macurdies, even Julie, were pretty good at
letting be.


He got more and more settled in, and stayed longer than he'd thought he might
until one day Bob Hammond, who farmed Will's old place on shares, decided to
sell his sheep. Said he "couldn't face another week of Baaaah! Baaaah!
twenty-four hours a day." He hired Curtis to help him haul them to the railroad
in Salem, unfinished lambs and all, and load them onto a car. It took all
day-three trips-and when they'd finished, Hammond took his wallet out of his
overalls to pay him. Curtis knew the man couldn't afford the two dollars he'd
promised, so he said he'd just take one, and eat supper with them that evening:
likely boiled potatoes and stuff from the cellar-home-canned beef, green beans,
maybe fruit pie--a good twenty-five-cent meal.
On the way, they drove past Charley and Edna's, and there was a big expensive
Packard in the side yard. Curtis stared as they passed it. "Whose car is that?"
he asked.
"Darned if I know. Never saw it before." The tenant pursed his lips worriedly.
It looked like a banker's car, and more often than not, bankers meant trouble
these days. Though he didn't think Charley had any mortgage to worry about: The
Macurdy land had been in the family for generations.
It seemed to Curtis it would be one of Varia's Sisterhood: maybe Idri. He wasn't
afraid of Idri by herself, but she wouldn't be alone, and he wasn't altogether
sure he could handle the men she'd have with her. Besides, this wasn't Yuulith;
they might carry guns. And if they killed him, they'd kill his parents as
witnesses.
He wasn't very good company for the Hammonds at supper. Half his attention
stayed on whoever might have driven up in the Packard. He'd come close on the
food: It was canned pig hocks and boiled potatoes, with pork gravy, canned green
beans, and peach pie for dessert. Seemed like Miz Hammond kept her family pretty
well fed. The coffee was weak of course, but coffee had to be bought.
When he'd finished, he paid his respects and left, walking east toward home. But