"Eric Flint - TOG 02 - 1824, The Arkansas War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

bit silly to be calling him a boy.тАЭ

Who else would even think that way? A black man was always a тАЬboyтАЭтАФand the colonelтАЩs was a slave,
to boot.

But the innkeeper wasnтАЩt about to argue the point. Not now, for a certainty, when he was trying to keep
his tavern from being turned into a shambles.

Where reason hadnтАЩt worked, perhaps outright pleading would.

тАЬColonelтАжJack BaxterтАЩs the meanest man in northern Kentucky. Just take my word for it. Been that
way since he was a kid. HeтАЩll pick a fight over anything. And, uhтАжтАЭ

HoustonтАЩs smile widened. тАЬAnd, in my case, heтАЩs got real grievances.тАЭ

тАЬI guess. Depending on how you look at it.тАЭ

тАЬWell, then!тАЭ Cheerfully, Houston came into the hallway, moving the innkeeper aside the way the tide
shifts seaweed. тАЬAs an of-fi-cial of the United States government, I figure itтАЩs my bounden duty to listen
to the complaints of a taxpayer.тАЭ

Over his shoulder, as he moved toward the stairs leading down to the tavernтАЩs main room: тАЬHedoes pay
taxes, doesnтАЩt he?тАЭ

тАЬAs little as he can,тАЭ the innkeeper muttered, hurrying after him. тАЬPlease, ColonelтАФтАЭ

тАЬOh, relax, will you?тАЭ HoustonтАЩs soft Tennessee accent thickened noticeably. тАЬI beanтАЩt a quarrelsome
man. In fact, my mama told me she almost named me Tranquility instead of Sam.тАЭ

He started down the stairs, not clumping as much as a man his size normally would. Partly because he
was wearing Cherokee-style boots to match the blanket he still had over his shoulders, but mostly
because he was very well coordinated. The innkeeper had been surprised by that the night before. There
were usually impromptu dances in the tavern of a Friday evening. Half drunkтАФbetter than halfтАФHouston
had still been able to dance better than anyone else. Any man, at least.

тАЬAlmost,тАЭ he added.

The innkeeper was following close behind. тАЬ тАШAlmostтАЩ is what IтАЩm worried about, Colonel.тАЭ

Houston chuckled. тАЬI told you, Ned, relax. Just have Mrs. Akins fry me up a steak.тАЭ

тАЬNo porridge?тАЭ

The chuckle came again. тАЬDonтАЩt think porridge would do the trick. At all.тАЭ
 By the time Ned Akins scurried into the kitchen, gave his wife the order, and got back into the main
room, the worst had happened. He was just in time to see Houston pull out a chair at the table in the
corner where Jack Baxter was having his breakfast. A moment later, the young colonel was sitting right
across from him.

Houston was smiling cheerfully. Baxter returned the smile with a glare.