"Alan Dean Foster - Lost and Found" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

a specific interest in Janey Haskell.

тАЬThe lady and I are having a conversation.тАЭ While the crowd continued to ignore the looming
confrontation, the bartender did not. She was watching them closely. Not closely enough, he knew, to
get a cop out here soon enough to put a halt to any real trouble. Besides which, in a violent conflict, any
resident gendarme would be more than likely to side with the natives. Even worse than maybe getting
beaten up, Walker knew that if he could not get back to his camp in time to make his morning video call,
he would lose his bet. And with only two days left to go.

Instead of responding, Snakeyes turned to the increasingly tipsy Haskell. тАЬBeats me, Janey, how you
havenтАЩt fallen off a roof yet and killed yourself.тАЭ He indicated one of the two bookending quasi-
cowboys. тАЬRick, how about you drive Janey home?тАЭ The big blond nodded.

тАЬMaybe your girlfriend doesnтАЩt want to go home just yet.тАЭ Setting his drink aside, Walker straightened
on the bar stool. As always, he was conscious of the fact that his once football-toughened physique
continued to give would-be troublemakers pause. Whether that would be sufficient to deter the three
intruders remained to be seen.

тАЬSheтАЩs not my girlfriend,тАЭ Snakeyes informed him tersely. тАЬSheтАЩs my sister.тАЭ

тАЬEven more reason to find out whatshe wants to do.тАЭ Walker, sturdily braced by the amount of vodka he
had consumed, wasnтАЩt about to let himself be intimidated by a brace of mountain bumpkins, even if it
meant the possible sacrifice of his nearly won bet with his friends.

тАЬWhatshe wants to do, dude, is keep the doctorтАЩs appointment sheтАЩs got scheduled for tomorrow.тАЭ He
eyed the woman, who by now had to be helped off her bar stool by her erstwhile driver, with
unconcealed distaste. тАЬHer test is due back in the morning.тАЭ


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 LostandFound

тАЬDoctorтАЩs appointment? Test?тАЭ Taken aback, Walker struggled for clarification amid the haze that
seemed to have settled on his brain. тАЬShe sick or something?тАЭ

тАЬOr something.тАЭ Seeing that the visitor was not about to further challenge HaskellтАЩs departure, Snakeyes
relented a little. тАЬMight be pregnant.тАЭ

All of the proverbial chips Walker had collected that evening evaporated like the metaphor they were.
Neither of the two blonds was the womanтАЩs husband. Snakeyes was the womanтАЩs brother. Which
suggested strongly that the probable daddy of the satellite TV installerтАЩs possibly imminent offspring
was likely not to be found in the immediate vicinity. Perhaps not even in the great state of California.
Clearly, the situation thus implied was not one to make for lasting familial bliss.

Walker found himself longing for the harsh comfort and isolation of the sleeping bag lying in the tent he
had set up on the south shore of Cawley Lake.

тАЬSorrynoharmintended,тАЭ he blurted hastily as he slid off the stool and whipped out his wallet in one
motion. He ended up overtipping the impassive bartender, but there was no way he was going to wait
around for his change.