"Robert Reed - To Church With Mr. Multhiford" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

plants died before August. "You know, there are old reports of circles. Older
than him. Some date back to the 1890s."

"Made by flying saucers," I snapped.

"Have you heard Mr. Multhiford ever mention UFOs?"

How could I? I didn't have conversations with him, and I wasn't going to start
now. "He makes the circles," I maintained. "People have seen him doing it."

"People see him driving at night, yes. They find him watching their fields, I
agree. But nobody has ever caught him flattening anyone's crop." Dad shook his
head. "It's got to be a fungus."

"That loves his farm best?"

"He has the perfect soil and the best hybrids. You see? It's just a matter of
chance."

I'd had enough. I stood and asked, "Why should Multhiford care about me? I'll go
to college, or I won't, and it's not his business."

Dad seemed to agree, but his voice trailed off before it got started. He sighed,
glanced at his open hands, then sighed again. "I'm jealous of the man."

"Of who?"

"You know who." He looked straight at me. "Really, of all the people I know ...
I don't know anyone happier than Clarence Multhiford "

"He's crazy, Dad. Lead-poisoned nuts."

"Fine. Maybe that's the answer." Dad looked up at the ceiling, then asked both
of us, "Can you imagine anything more terrible? Two human beings hope a third
human is mentally ill, and why? Because he's too happy and too different for
their tastes."

He gave me a sad little smile. Dad's got one of those faces that aren't real
comfortable with happiness.

"Isn't that a horrible way to think?" he asked me. "Can't you feel even a little
shame, John?"

"I know exactly who you are," Multhiford warned me. He didn't sound like a
particularly happy man, but then again, he didn't sound angry, either. I saw the
big double-barreled shotgun in one hand, then his flashlight found my eyes,
blinding me. "Stand on up, John. Please."

He did recognize me. One hope was dashed.