"Kathleen O' Neal & Michael W. Gear - People 3 - People Of The Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'Neal Kathleen)

plume.

Despite the intrusive construction, the eternal presence of the pale,
sun-washed land couldn't be ignored. From the infinite enamel-blue sky
to the erosion-scarred buttes that hemmed the distance, the land
dominated. It waited--sere, windswept, populated only by sagebrush,
greasewood, salt bush, and endless patches of glaring white clay. Here
and
there the desert-tan humps of sand dunes stood out, their scraggly
vegetation a little greener where it robbed the sand traps of moisture.
Distant blue-green mountains rose to the north and seemed to float on
the polished-silver sheen of the hot basin mirage.

Skip took a deep breath and inhaled the pungent odor of dust and
sagebrush, and with it, the soul of the barren earth. He squinted
irritably over the flat desolation as he drummed his fingertips on the
steering wheel and muttered, "Hell of a country. Why'd I ever leave
Louisiana?"

He turned onto the construction site and wove past two belly dumps and
around the gray-green prefab building that housed the temporary
offices. He pulled up and slipped the transmission into park as the
dust settled over the pickup. The big Ford idled roughly--probably
because the damn air filter was plugged up again. Gas mileage had been
like shit for the last week. What the hell, it was company gas.

Red Swenson stepped out of the dust-streaked office door and nodded as
he started for Skip's truck. Swenson wore faded Levi's and a
sun-bleached checked shirt that had been red once. The sleeves had
been ripped off, and dust had caked under the man's armpits. A yellow
hard-hat rested at a jaunty angle over the burly cat skinner sunburned
face.

"Hear you wanted to see me," Skip called out the pickup window as he
leaned his arm on the sill.

Swenson nodded, swirling a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the
other. Sun and desert air had left his lips chapped and peeling. "Got
a minute? It's over by the compressor pad. I'm doing the dirt work
for the foundation."

Skip checked his watch. "I got a minute--but that's about all. There's
a meeting with the engineers in half an hour." He glanced up. "This
important?"

Swenson nodded before he glanced out at the construction site; a dust
devil ravaged the torn soil. "Yeah. First off I thought I'd just
cover it up, but I know them archaeologist guys have been poking
around. Didn't want my tit in a ringer, so I thought I'd better talk
to you. You're the one that's in charge of this shindig."