"Scott O'Dell - Sing Down The Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'dell Scott)

Nehana led the way along a trail that wound downward toward a small pine forest. We had not gone far when we saw a fire burning at the edges oг the trees. Nehana pulled in her horse and sat watching.
"Woodcutters use this trail," she said. "One of them must be camped there now. It is not good if he sees us. But we cannot go back. Nor can we get through the forest without using the trail."
Slowly she rode on and we followed her. "If he tries to stop us," Nehana said, "we will continue. Whatever he does, we will continue."
We followed the trail for a short way into the pine grove, until we came to the fire. A man stood up and spoke a word of greeting, which Nehana answered.
"You travel late," the man said softly.
His eyes shone in the firelight. He glanced at each of us, at the three horses and their silver bits.
"We have a long way to go," Nehana answered.
"You have good horses," the man said, still speaking softly. "They can take you far and at a good
pace." He rubbed his forehead. "The horses I have seen before. One belongs to Don Roberto. The small one to Senor Gomez. The third I am not sure about, though I think it was ridden by Francisco Roa."
The man stirred the fire so that it shone brighter. He walked over to the horse Nehana was riding and looked closely at its bridle.
"So I thought," he said. "The initial R. R. tar Roa."
Nehana backed her horse away from the man, but he reached out and grasped hold of the bit.
"What shall I say to those who come this way?" he asked. "To Sefior Gomez and Don Roberto and Francisco Roa? They will wish to know where their horses have gone."
"Say what pleases you," Nehana told him, glancing at me and making a motion with her head.
Running Bird and I picked up our reins, ready to flee.
"If you go south," the man said, "I can tell them that you have gone to the north, to the east, to the west. It is simple. All I ask in return is a bridle and a bit. They are for my poor burro who has neither."
"I cannot ride this horse without a bit," Nehana said.
She said no more, but spurred her horse, throwing the man aside into the grass. She circled the fire and we followed her down the woodcutter's trail, leaving the man behind us shouting.
Near dawn we left the pine grove for country
which was open and slanted toward the rising sun. Nehana gave her horse a nudge with her bare heels. We did the same and the horses broke into a trot. Neither Running Bird nor I knew how to ride a horse, but we had learned a little from our journey with the Spaniards and during the long night just past.
Soon we came to a slow-running stream where we watered the horses. As they drank and began to crop the grass along the bank, I kept looking back at the pine grove and the hill beyond, fearful that I would see the Spaniards.
"They have found our trail now that the sun is up," Nehana said, "They will ride faster than we did, having the daylight to go by. Yet they cannot reach this place before the sun is overhead."
She spread a blanket on the grass, as if we were at a fiesta, and laid out some corncakes for us to eat. Running Bird and I were not hungry, so Nehana ate all the cakes. Then she fell asleep. We walked up and down, listening to her breathe, listening for the sound of hoofs, watching the trail we had come along.
Nehana did not move. She lay on her back with her lips half-parted, breathing peacefully.
"Let us take our horses and go," Running Bird said.
"We would not go far," I said. "We are lost without her."
"The Spaniards will find us here," Running Bird said.
The sound of a blue jay fluttering into a tree made me jump. The stream sounded like men's voices speaking. Then I saw five figures on the hill beyond the pine grove. They were deer coming down to drink at the stream, but I shouted anyway. At my cry Nehana jumped to her feet. She looked in the direction I pointed.
"Deer," she said scornfully.
But she did not lie down again. She got on her horse and we followed her. The stream had a sandy bottom and we rode along between its banks.
"They will follow our tracks to the stream," Nehana said. "They will decide that we rode north, for that is the shortest way."
We rode until midmorning, never leaving the stream. The current washed away all signs of our passage. We came to a wide meadow and Nehana led us across it, and, doubling back, we climbed a high ridge. Near the crest where a few trees grew she stopped and got off her horse, motioning us to follow. We crawled through the brush and rocks until we came to the highest part of the ridge.
Below us lay the country we had traveled that morning-the stream winding northward, the clump of budding cottonwoods where we had watered the horses and Nehana had gone to sleep. Near noon, as we crouched among the trees, three horsemen rode down the hill where I had seen the deer.
The sun glinted on their silver bridles. They rode back and got down from their horses and stood around for a while under the cottonwoods.
Then they jumped into their saddles and started off at a quick trot, two on one side of the stream and one on the other, not hi the direction Nehana had said they would ride but down the stream, toward us.
"We go," Nehana said. "We go fast and for our lives."
We crawled back to our horses. Keeping below the crest of the ridge, we rode its length through heavy brush. We rode down into a wide canyon and headed north, back in the direction of the cot-tonwood grove. We rode fast. We knew that the Spaniards would find our tracks where we had left the stream and crossed the meadow and climbed the ridge.
Night was falling as we again reached the stream and the grove of budding cottonwoods. We had seen no sign of the Spaniards during the afternoon, but they were not far behind us.
Our horses had begun to stumble, so we watered them and went a short way and rode into a draw that was hidden from the stream.
"We will rest here until the moon rises," Ne-hana said. "It is too dark now for the Spaniards to see our tracks. Lie down and sleep. I will keep watch."
Running Bird and I bathed our faces in the stream and ate some of the tortillas she had brought. Then we went back where the horses were tied and laid down. I slept for a while and had a bad dream and awoke to the sound of my black dog barking.
He was standing beside me in the grass, faced toward the stream. Running Bird was already on her feet trying to quiet him. I reached out and put my hand over his muzzle, but he squirmed away and kept barking. I ran toward the horses, which Nehana had untied.
"He may be barking at a wild animal," I said.
"It is time to go," Nehana said.
The moon was rising over the hill behind us. But it was dark night in the draw where we were hidden. There was no other way out of the draw save the narrow way we had come. We started toward the stream where the moonlight glittered on the water and the cottonwoods. My black dog was still barking.
Nehana said, "I would rather die than be captured again."
I felt the same as Nehana did. I followed her closely and Running Bird followed me. The three of us rode out of the draw, gripping the horses' reins. We were ready to flee at the first sight of the Spaniards.
Before we reached the stream, two horsemen came out of the trees into the moonlight. Something about them-the size of their horses and the way they rode-made me think they were Indians. We were not more than a dozen paces apart. Still I was not certain.
The black dog rushed at them and stopped. Then one of the horsemen shouted to us, a single word in Navaho. I knew the voice. I would know it anywhere. Quietly I answered him.
I think Tall Boy was more surprised than I was, for he rode up slowly and sat there on his horse staring at me. Mando, his friend, also stared at me.