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

"Yes, I can."
"A considerable sum is involved. Of course, there will be charges against it. My
fees, the advertising ..."
He waved a hand, smiling and showing all those teeth. "But what am I doing?
Talking business with a lovely young lady on her first trip to Philadelphia! We
should be planning to go out upon the town! Business can come later."
"I'd as soon tend to it now. I don't aim ... I mean, I don't intend to stay
longer than necessary. I'd like to get this over with."
"Of course you would! But I cannot be lacking in hospitality! You must let me
take you to one of our restaurants, where we can discuss business at leisure."
"No."
Startled, White stared at me with cold eyes. "You refuse? I assure youЧ"
"Not to be impolite, sir, but I think we should discuss business first. I must
return to the mountains. If you will just tell me how much is coming to me and
what remains to be done, we can get along with it."
White was irritated, and he concealed it poorly. What he had in mind, I had no
idea, but obviously getting down to business was not part of it.
Why was he delaying? Did he really intend to be hospitable? Or did he hope to
turn my head with entertainment and the glitter of the city? Although I was yet
to see much glitter in Philadelphia. It looked to me like a get-down-to-business
place, as befitted the greatest city in the land. There was much I wished to see
had there been time, but there was work to be done back home.
Was the money here? Had he, as my friend at Mrs. Sulky's suggested, deliberately
advertised in an unlikely publication?
James White leaned back in his chair and his eyes reminded me of something ...
Of a weasel. "You say your name is Sackett and you are from Tennessee?"
"You know my name. I wrote to you from Tennessee."
He seemed to be hesitating, trying to figure which trail to take. If he intended
to pay me the money, he had only to make sure who I was and hand it over. I
would sign for it, of course. It struck me as a straightforward proposition.
If he planned to steal the money, somehow something had thrown his plans out of
kilter. Maybe he had not expected anybody to see his advertisement or answer it.
Or maybe he had figured a sixteen-year-old mountain girl would be easy to deal
with. Whatever, he figured something had gone wrong for him or was going wrong.
"How did you happen to see the item in the Advocate?"
"It came wrapped around some goods we bought from the pack peddler." For the
first time an idea occurred to me. "Fact is, I believe the peddler saw that
notice and wrapped it around the goods a-purpose."
"Why would he do that?"
"So's we could read it. Mountain folks read everything that comes to hand. It
ain't muchЧisn't much, I should say. He would know that and he would know the
item concerned our kinfolk."
"Who is this peddler you speak of?"
"Never did know his name. I doubt if anybody knows, or where he comes from or
how old he is. He peddles goods in the mountains and he tinkers with things,
fixes guns, clocks, and the like, although nobody has much use for a clock
except as something to listen to when you're alone."
"How do you tell time?"
"We know when it's daylight and we know when it's dark. What else would be
needed?"