"Matthews, Patricia - Goatman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matthews Patricia)faced their studiously closed, but nonetheless expectant faces.
"I need some help," she said simply. "My dog has been killed. I need someone to help me bury him." Moira thought that she could sense contempt behind their blank eyes. Probably their women could bury a dog or kill and skin a hog, if necessary. She tried again. "I thought that since you gentlemen know about wild animals, maybe you could tell me what kind of animal killed him." Their faces softened a little. In the end all three of them came with her; Thompson putting up a "closed" sign against his rickety gas pump, and following her in his rain of a pickup. At the site of the death, they hunkered down around Tray, looking at him from every angle, examining the stuffed-up dust around the body. They examined the flower bed carefully, particularly the footprint Moira had protected. They chewed their wads of snuff, and talked quietly among themselves until Moira felt like an intruder. Then they buried Tray in back of the house, and wiped their red hands on the legs of their jeans, and prepared to leave. Moira realized that they were going to say nothing unless she directly him in the eye. "What killed him, Mr. Thompson? What killed Tray?" He kept his eyes studiously on the ground. "Oh, could have been a bear, I guess. Maybe a wolf. There's a few of them left, they say." The other men stood silently, scuffling their heavy boots in the dust. Moira bit her lip, then almost pleadingly touched Thompson's arm. "Miss Rhode said something about a Goatman . . ." Thompson at last looked up. "What'd she say?" "She said something about his killing a dog, another dog, and she said I should be careful and keep Tray close to the house." "Should of done," said Old Man Crowly, sharply. "Goatman has done for a lot of good dogs." Thompson gave the old man an angry glance, but to Moira's relief, Crowly went on. "She has a right to know, her a woman alone here. It's best that she knows." |
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