"Nagle, Patti - Coyote Ugly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nagle Pati)

and went to her work table, taking out a new piece of cottonwood. It was silky
smooth under the bark, soft and pale. Two little knots right together reminded
her of eyes -- an owl?

She stroked it, and sighed. An owl was not Southwestern enough. People carved
owls back east. She set the wood back on the shelf and took up another piece.
This one was twisted, deformed. Like Santa Fe.

Joe belched.

"Go away, Joe. I can't concentrate."

"Listen to the big artist."

Eyes flared. "Shut up!"

"You haven't sold nothing since the Market."

"That's more than you've done. If you want any money you'd better leave me alone
to do my work."

"You should go back to the pueblo and get married."

"I mean it, Joe."

"'Cept nobody'd take you. You coyote ugly."

"Get out!"

The shifty look came back, and his eyes slid away from hers. He got up and
pitched his empty in the sink. Grabbed his denim jacket from a chair back, and
headed for the door with a parting shot.

"Women aren't supposed to work wood. Grandfather was crazy to teach you. A woman
should get married, have kids. That's what you're good for."

He dodged out as a whirlwind of pencils, dust, and small objects blasted across
the room and into the door behind him. Eva's anger drained and she blinked
stupidly at the mess. Then she got up to fetch the broom.

Coyote ugly -- you chew your arm off to get away the next morning rather than
wake her up.

Eva robbed her temples, then her eyes. The tiny light on her work table cast a
golden pool of brightness in the dim room. In the pool lay the twisted stick
she'd been trying to coax into life. It had a rattlesnake's head -- sharp fang
danger-- and the beginnings of rattles, but in between it was just a stick,
stripped of bark and with a few scales carved in.

Sighing Eva got up and went to the kitchenette, lit the stove and put the kettle