"David Drake - Old Nathan (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

For whatever reason, the gelding calmed enough for Boardman to dismount and lash his reins to a
deadfall too heavy for the horse to drag. Panting with exertion, the young man followed Old Nathan on
foot as the cunning man walked slowly into the newground. The shadows thrown eastward by the taller
stumps were beginning to merge and drain the color from the soil.

Old Nathan tapped a stump with his toe-tip when Boardman had caught up with him. "Eight inches," he
said. "Not so very big fer a pine. This track's been cut over before, thin?"

"Vance Satterfield held it all on a Spanish patent," the younger man said, holding his arms tight and
crossed on his chest as if he feared something would poke him in the ribs. Down near the creek, Spanish
King's black hide was almost lost in the gathering darkness. The bull's white horns danced like fairy
wands, tossing and sweeping through the empty air while the beast explored the newground.

"Could be," the younger man continued with a shudder at something in his imagination, "that Satterfield er
kin t' him cleared the valley forty years back er so. Reckon somebody found bones, thet they give it the
name they did."

"Reckon they didn't settle long neither, thin," said the cunning man grimly.

Though to look at, it was a tolerable tract or even better. Well watered, and though the valley was
aligned east and west, it was shallow enough that the north slope would get enough sun to bring corn to
fruition.

"Hit'sgood land," Boardman said with a frustrated whine in his voice. "It must be there's an Injun curse
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on it." His tone became one of potentous certainty. "I reckon that's hit, all right. Injuns."

Spanish King was trotting up toward the two men. His hooves clopped like splitting mauls when they
struck on stumps or unburnt timber.

"Stick to yer own affairs, boy," Old Nathan gibed. "That is, effen ye hev sich. There's no curse onto this
valley, not Injun nor white neither."

"You say that now thet the sun's down," responded Boardman without, for a wonder, either bluster or
whimpering. "Come back by daylight'n tell me then there's no curse on my newground."

"I'll tear 'im up!" bellowed Spanish King, making the younger man jump. "I'll gore and I'llstomp 'im!"

"Tain't a curse, fer all thet," the cunning man explained. "This track, this's been forest fer a long time.
Onct, though, it wuz in grass. When ye cut the timber off 'n sun got t' the ground agin, ye brought back
somethin' as wuz here aforetimes."

Old Nathan hacked and spat into the darkness before he concluded, "Hain't a curse yer lookin at, John
Boardman. Hit's a ghost. And we figger t' stay here till we lays it, King 'n me."

"Tear 'im and toss 'im and gouge 'im t' tatters!" rumbled the black bull, and the night trembled.