"Patricia Matthews - Goatman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matthews Patricia)

No purpose would be served by going over it again; the recrimination, the
terrible, wounded silences, the soul and mind-ripping cry of, why? Why did you
marry me?

Dr. Speegler had helped her understand it, and deal with it, and now she
needed
peace, peace and quiet, and isolation, so that she could learn to live with
it.

She felt the touch of Victor's hand on her arm. "Moira, are you sure you'll be
all right alone? It's like the end of the Earth out here, and the cabin's
falling apart. Nobody has lived here since Aunt Ida died."

She smiled, and touched his face. "Dear Victor. Of course. I've always loved
it
here, you know that. Besides, I have Tray for company."

Of course he had gone away still not understanding, for how could she have
explained the appeal that this primitive simplicity had for her. She knew that
in his own, rather unsteady way, her brother loved her and worried about her,
and she appreciated his caring, but she needed to, had to, be alone just now.

Supper over, and the dishes put away, she put more wood into the Franklin
stove,
turned up the flame on the kerosene lamp, and settled, with a book, into the
old
rocker. Tray lay at her feet, rump turned to the heat of the stove, drowsing.
The wind seemed stronger now that darkness had fallen, and Moira was conscious
of thumps and scratching sounds, as branches and twigs were blown against the
walls of the cabin. She tried to immerse herself in her book, but she found
the
sounds distracting.

Up until now, she had felt no fear of staying in the cabin alone. Tray was a
good watch dog, and somehow it had never occurred to her that there was any
reason to be afraid.

Tonight, however, she felt a touch of uneasiness. The sounds of the wind and
brush sounded disturbingly like someone, or something, was trying to get into
the cabin, and the words of the old woman kept coming back to her.

"Goatman." Who or what was he? Miss Rhode had seemed to assume that she would
know. He must be a piece of local legend. Something that everyone in this part
of the country knew about. Everyone but her, one of the "city-folk."

She let the book fall to her lap, bemused by the mystery of the name. The old
woman had said that she should protect herself, but against what? What kind of
danger did this Goatman represent?

She was started from her reverie by Tray's low growl, and found herself