"Andre Norton - Cat Fantastic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

"Mrow." The cat was right below the steps.
"C'mon," Judith said encouragingly. "I'll help you. I promise I don't kick cats."
A scraggly head on a long, scrawny neck, both sapping and dripping, poked out from beneath the step.
"Farther," Judith encouraged. "I don't want to pick you up like a kitten. You're too big a cat for that to be
good for you."
The cat peered up, blinking. It inched out until Judith could get her hands around its body behind the front
legs. She reached down, "This could hurt," she warned the cat, not knowing whether the drenched animal
was really injured or not. "I'm only trying to help. Don't scratch."
She might have been picking up a fur stole that had been soaking in ice water for a week. Judith hissed.
"Poor thing," she murmured. As she slid a hand down to support the back half of the cat's body, she
realized that, hurt or not, the cat was certainly pregnant. Very pregnant.
"This is no weather to have kittens," Judith protested. "Let's see if I can at least get you warm and dry."
She carried odd things in the librarian's closet: her sleeping bag and knapsack, for example, because on
two of her routes she stayed overnight. The county paid twenty dollars toward lodging, but Judith could
use that twenty dollars. She didn't remember removing her swimming suit and towels, either. Those, she
carried all summer. Camps had pools, and several camps were regular Bookmobile stops. Yup.
Judith was worried about the cat. She didn't seem to be damaged, but the woman was no veterinarian,
and she couldn't be sure. By the time the animal was as dry as Judith could rub her and curled up on the
beach towel next to the heater vent, she was making a sound Judith interpreted as a rusty purr.
Better, anyway, she thought. She ducked out from under the dash and sat back. Odd. That marvelous,
dark feathery fur somehow masked the animalness of the cat-turned it into a blob of nothing in the
semidarkness. Pretty fur, really, black and a dozen shades of gray, with no distinct pattern. She petted
the cat's head. It purred again.
Caring for the cat had restored the blood supply to several places Judith had tensed it out of, relaxed her
amazingly, and made her feel a little less inadequate to the task of getting the Bookmobile down the
mountain in the dark. Only eight more winding, precipitous miles to the intersection with the state route,
another twenty-five across the flat, then the last long drive on the freeway into town. She'd called to say
she was going to try to beat the snow so the Bookmobile wouldn't get stuck on the mountaintop for who
knew how long. The dispatcher was appreciative, but she'd insisted that Judith call from the filling station
at the intersection, then again from the motel at the freeway. According to the weather report, the valley
floor should be clear. But if all did not go well, she wasn't to try to come into town tonight.
All did not go well. The rain became sleet. The temperature outside dropped too rapidly-the snowline
might be as far down the mountain as the motel. The roadway, not the best at any time, became actively
dangerous. If she hadn't been more scared to try to stop-this stretch hadn't a single pullout big enough for
the bus-than she was to drive, Judith would have given up. But damned fools acted as if they had nine
lives and none of them could be lost to the conditions tonight. She was passed by three vehicles-one
coming, two going-a four-wheel drive affair, a sports car, and a light truck. The latter two went swishing
around the bus at twice the speed Judith considered safe. The driver of the RV seemed to believe himself
late for his own wake, but he was also, obviously a professional driver. Moves Judith considered suicidal
proved to be only highly dangerous. She shook her head. "Well," she told the cat, "I guess if they can, I
can."
The filling station was already closed, and Judith didn't blame the high school kid who pumped gas on
weekends for going home a little early. She knew where the attendant hid the restroom keys, thank
heavens, but the public phone was almost unprotected. Judith was wet to the waist by the time she could
return to the warm Bookmobile. The cat indicated it wanted to go out, so Judith put it under her poncho
and took it to the least windy side of the building.
"Hurry up," she said, shivering. The cat hurried.
"Part of my funk is hunger," she told the cat. "I'll bet you're hungry, too." The cat meowed.
"Well, there should be something."
She changed into her camping clothes and dug into the emergency drawer. In addition to flashlights and