"Jacquelyn Hooper - Home On The Range" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hooper Jacquelyn)

If he had married before, then he had liked women once. Who was to say he could
not do it again?

Me, Chris thought. He touches her, I'll kill him.

"Corner of the sky, southwest," Paladin said. His voice was supposed to be a
whisper, but it was a sonic boom in Chris's ear.

Chris adjusted the microphone bar under his chin so it was below his mouth.
"What is it?"

"Coming in, three and three. Ready the rifle, stay low."

Chris glanced up at the light blue sky. The sun was alone: no clouds, no
satellites, no ships. Virgin blue, the pilots called it. Like the surface of the
ocean, there was nothing to see.

But the wind changed. Hot dust and grain shafts blew into Chris's face. He could
hear the sound of shrieks. Metal twisting in the wind, the coming of a tornado,
or dust storm.

These shrieks were harmonious, and coming from the direction Paladin had noted
before, corner of the sky, southwest.

The natives had wings. Their bodies were covered with fine feathers, instead of
hair. Tear-shaped eyes, dull and flat like pressed gold, scanned the grain for
movement. reddish-blond hair was atop their heads. Their faces were dreamily
beautiful, almost lethargic in expression and movement.

They landed in the field, five in all, squatting before standing semierect. Two
stood next to the damaged atmostat post. Hands with sharp talons picked at the
twisted wires.

One chirped to the other four. Two removed jagged strips of sheet metal from
their backs. The other two removed large shoulder sacks. They began to harvest
the grain.

Chris noted the metal, the sacks. They were cheap materials, the type used by
homesteaders who did not know any better. The natives were hacking at the grain,
chopping stalks and shafts. They had no idea what they were doing, either.
They just know we eat it, Chris thought. He wondered how they'd gotten the
materials. Stolen, after some observation, most likely. Someone was going to
have to pay the New river Territory Emporium too much money to get them
replaced.

Except, as he watched, the natives got better. The experimental swings were
building a rhythm. The shrieks were replaced with pure notes, singing along with
the tempo of the cuts.

"Now," Paladin said.