"Mary Rosenblum - Rainmaker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)MARY ROSENBLUM
THE RAINMAKER Mary Rosenblum is currently working on a mystery series set in Hood River, Oregon. The first novel Devil's Trumpet is due out in about six months. Mary calls this new story an example of "American Magic Realism," but it seems to me we need a better term, something akin to "Southern Gothic" that could apply to stories of the Pacific Northwest (like the recent novels of Nina Hoffman and Jack Cady). Hmm, that's a bit of a stumper. Fortunately for us all we don't need labels to enjoy poignant stories like this one that explore classic American myths. SO HE'S A FRAUD?" DAD SAID. "Well, have you ever heard of a genuine rain-maker?" Uncle Kenny cut a neat triangle out of his stack of pancakes. "Sandy, I swear these could be Mom's hotcakes. I never could get 'em right." "You'd say anything for a free breakfast, little brother." Mom ruffled his hair the way she does mine, and she flipped three more of the browned cakes onto a plate. "Better eat these, Donny, before your uncle talks me out of 'cm. So how come you don't arrest this man, if he's a fraud? You're 'the Sheriff." She planted her hands on her hips. "It's a crime, cheating folks around here. Who "We sure as hell don't." Dad pushed his chair back. "Got to check those heifers." He reached for his hat. "We're gonna run out of pasture in about two weeks," he said in a tired voice. "Guess I'll have to ship a bunch out, in spite of the beef prices. Once they start losing weight, I won't get squat for 'em anyhow." "Hey, you could hire this rainmaker." Uncle Kenny speared the last sticky forkful of pancake and wiped the syrup from his plate with it. "I kind of wish I could." Dad wasn't smiling. For a moment he held Uncle Kenny's narrow stare, then he turned away. My uncle shook his head. "John sounds like he wants to get religion." He laughed. Don't, Kenny." Morn was collecting dishes. "It's tough right now." "It's always tough for him, isn't it? This rainmaker dude is slick." He changed the subject abruptly. ',He doesn't promise anything. Not in writing, anyway. If folks want to be stupid and give him money, it's not a crime." "He's trading on faith." Mom's face had gotten tight. "That's a sin, even if it's not a crime." |
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