"Louis L'amour - sackett05 - Ride The River" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

included the provision in their wills as well, and for a while there had been
some association with the Sackett family. At last the event had taken place, and
a search for the youngest Sackett had begun.
Adam Brunn's conscientious search for the heirs discovered the Sackett family
living in Tennessee, and Brunn had drawn up an advertisement to appear in some
Tennessee newspapers just before he died. His widow was determined Brunn's
wishes be carried out, as apparently this was one facet of his business he had
discussed with her. White proceeded to advertise, but deliberately chose a paper
unlikely to be found in Tennessee.
The letter from Echo Sackett had come as a shock, for he was already devising
ways by which the money could remain in his hands. White's income varied between
six and seven hundred dollars per year, a goodly sum in 1840. The inheritance
came to something more than three thousand dollars, and in addition, there was a
small iron cube, a puzzle box of some sort, composed of many movable parts, each
one a small square with its own symbol or hieroglyphic.
That iron box or cube or whatever it was had become an irritation to White. It
must have some significance, for it was mentioned in the will and was obviously
important. He had worked over it, turning the various bits and pieces. Some of
the squares slid from place to place and could be realigned to make different
combinations of the symbols, but what they meant, he could not guess.
Tim Oats was vastly intrigued. "That there's valuable," he declared. "I began
life workin' with metals, worked for a jeweler, I did, an' whoever put that
thing together was a craftsman! He really knew what he was doin'!"
"It isn't Latin," White said irritably. "It isn't any language I know."
"It's old," Oats said, "but there's not a speck of rust. I heard tell of iron
like that made long ago in India."
"A children's toy," Brunn had written in his notes, "of only family interest."
James White, a devious man himself, did not accept that conclusion. In the weeks
since it had come into his possession, he had moved, twisted, and turned itЧbut
to no avail. If it had a secret, it was beyond him.
Since three thousand dollars represented four to five years of income for James
White, he had no intention of giving it up to any ignorant hillbilly girl. He
stared at the papers on his desk and swore bitterly. Three thousand dollars to
that impudent slip of a girl! It was preposterous!
Yet, suppose he had to pay it to her? What then? It was a long way back to
Tennessee, most of it by stage. White rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then brushed
his mustache with a forefinger.
Maybe ... just maybe ...
4
Finian Chantry entered the library of the club and looked about. He nodded here
and there to the regulars, men with whom he frequently had dealings, business or
political, most of whom he had known for years, and in some cases their fathers
before them. When his wife had been alive, they dined out often, but of late he
had become more and more of a recluse, preferring his books to most of the
conversation about matters whose conclusions were obvious.
The club was different. It was one place that held no memories of his wife. It
was a gathering place for men, and men only. As he grew older he liked less and
less to be involved in disagreements of any kind, and here, in the quiet
precincts of the club, over brandy and cigars, he had settled some of his most
difficult cases.