"Michael McCollum - Man of Renaissance" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCollum Michael)

Phase One had gone as planned!

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Beckwith followed the aide to the upper part of the house and found himself in the same bedroom he had
occupied on his last visit. He busied himself unpacking the leather satchel he found in the room. He
noted signs of a hurried search of his belongings as he did so. A few quick glances inside the case
assured him that the seals on the false bottom that hid his "special equipment" were unbroken. He placed
his clothes on the pegs set into the adobe walls for the purpose. He had just finished laying out his
shaving kit when there came a quiet knock on his door.

He opened it to find Esperanza Galway standing in the hall with a load of linen. She curtsied politely and
brushed past him, all the while keeping her eyes averted as was considered prim and proper for a young
lady hereabouts. She placed the linen on the feather bed and turned to face him as he closed the door.

"It is good to see you again, Doctor Darol."

"And you, too, Espe. By the Great Gods of Fission, you are sprouting up like a weed! It won't be long
before the young grandees will be beating the doors down."

Espe blushed as Beckwith nodded approvingly. Gone was the gangly little girl whose arm he had set five
years ago. In her place was a blossoming young woman of nearly fifteen summers. Espe was one of
those lucky people who seemed to have extracted just the right characteristics from her mixed bag of
ancestors. She was fast becoming a beautiful young woman.

"How is your father?" Beckwith asked.

"Safe, as far as I know," Espe said. "He left for Taos to buy breeding stock last month and has not
returned."

"And your mother?"

"Very angry at the Mexicanos for tracking mud all through her house."

"Did that potion I left help her tuberculosis?"

"She is much improved."

"What of my other patients?"

"Carmen had her baby, a strong, young boy with healthy lungs that can be heard all over the pueblo.
And Aldo Finessa's arm has regenerated as good as new. Other than that, not much has happened
except for the Sonorans."

"What of old Manuel Vargas? Does he still suffer from shortness of breath?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" Beckwith asked. "I just got here, remember?"