"Douglas Smith - Spirit Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Douglas)

Spirit Dance
a short story by Douglas Smith

In the beginning of things, men were as animals and animals as men.
-- Cree legend
Vera made a warding sign as I entered the store, my hound Gelert trailing
behind. She pretended to wipe her hands on her faded blue apron, but I
caught the dance of her fingers.
"Hello, Vera. It's been a while," I said.
"Uh, yes, yes it has, Mr Blaidd," she said quickly, not returning my
smile. Turning from where she'd been refilling a food bin, she addressed
her husband. "I gotta check something in the back, Ed." Almost running,
she slipped behind the long wooden counter and into the storeroom.
Edward Two Rivers leaned on the counter beside the cash register, a
newspaper spread in front of him, his long gray hair spilling onto the
pages. He watched her leave then smiled at me.
"Ouch," I said.
"You still spook her," he chuckled.
"Are you going to run and hide too?" I asked, grinning.
The black eyes narrowed but his smile remained. "Vera's a white woman. My
people have told legends of the Herok'a for generations, Grey Legs. I grew
up with those stories. I've known others of your kind ... and I think I
still know you, even if it's been ... what?"
"Four years," I said.
"Four years since you left Wawa." He took my offered hand in a strong
grip.
"Good to see you, Ed," I said.
"You too, Gwyn." Leaning over the counter, he patted Gelert's huge head.
"And good to see you as well, you great beast." Gelert's tail wagged
furiously, threatening a display of pop cans. Ed looked back to me. "Did
you fly in?"
I nodded. "I landed on Deer's Pond, set up camp on the north shore, then
we hiked in. Get my fax?"
"Yeah. I made you up some supplies and a map to the truck driver's cabin."
He nodded toward a small pile of brown paper packages in the corner,
wrapped in twine.
"Thanks. What do I owe you?"
"I'll run a tab. You'll be here a while. Not the best homecoming for you,
I guess."
"Could be better. Any word of Robert?"
Ed nodded. "I showed your friend's picture around. He was definitely here
in Wawa for the funerals, but kept to himself pretty much. Found someone
who talked to him, though. She said he left town about two days ago, but
he'd be back. Something about unfinished business here."
"Any idea where he went?"
"Just a guess, but I'd say the Muskokas."
"Why?" I asked frowning. The Muskokas were a cottage and resort district a
two-hour drive north of Toronto, and a good 700 kilometers from Wawa.
He held up a finger for an answer and started flipping through the
newspaper. Gelert curled beside our supplies. I waited, sifting through