"Thompson, Jim - Pop. 1280" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Jim)

I dashed on up into the next car and relieved myself--and believe me it was a relief. I was coming back down the aisle, looking for a seat in that car so's I wouldn't run into the checked-suit fella again, when I saw Amy Mason.
I was pretty sure that she'd seen me, too, but she let on that she didn't. I hesitated by the seat next to her for a minute, then braced myself and sat down.
No one knows it in Pottsville, because we were careful to keep it a secret, but me and Amy was mighty thick at onetime. Fact is, we'd've got married if her Daddy hadn't had such strong objections to me. So we waited, just waiting for the old gentleman to die. And then just a week or so before he did, Myra hooked me.
I hadn't seen Amy since except to pass on the street. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, and try to explain things to her. But she never gave me the chance. Whenever she saw me, she'd toss her head and look away. Or if I tried to stop her, she'd cross to the other side of the street.
"Howdy, Amy," I said. "Nice morning."
Her mouth tightened a little, but she didn't speak.
"It's sure nice running into you like this," I said. "How far you ridin', if you don't mind my asking?"
She spoke that time. Just barely. "To Clarkton. I'll be getting ready to leave any moment now."
"I sure wish you was riding further," I said. "I been wanting to talk to you, Amy. I wanted to explain about things."
"Did you?" She slanted a glance at me. "The explanation seems obvious to me."
"Aw, flaw, flaw," I said. "You know I couldn't like no one better'n you, Amy. I never wanted to marry anyone in my life but you, and that's the God's truth. I swear it is. I'd swear it on a stack of Bibles, honey."
Her eyes were blinking rapidly, like she was blinking back the tears. I got hold of her hand and squeezed it, and I saw her lips tremble.
"Th-then, why, Nick? Why did- y-you--"
"That's what I been wanting to tell you. It's a pretty long story, and--looky, honey, why don't I get off at Clarkton with you, and we can get us a hotel room for a couple hours and--"
It was the wrong thing to say. Right at that time it was the wrong thing.
Amy turned white. She looked at me with ice in her eyes. "So that's what you think of me!" she said. "That's all you want--all you ever wanted! Not to marry me, oh, no, I'm not good enough to marry! Just to get me in bed, and--"
"Now, please, honey," I said. "I--"
"Don't you dare honey me, Nick Corey!"
"But I wasn't thinking about that--what you think I was thinking about," I said. "It was just that it'd take quite a while to explain about me and Myra, and I figured we'd need some place to--"
"Never mind. Just never mind," she said. "I'm no longer interested in your explanations."
"Please, Amy. Just let me--"
"But I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Nicholas Corey, and you'd better pass the word along to the proper quarters. If I catch your wife's brother peeking in my windows, there's going to be trouble. Real trouble. I won't put up with it like the other women in Pottsville do. So you tell her that, and a word to the wise is sufficient."
I told her I hoped she didn't ever do anything about Lennie. For her own sake, that is. "I got no more use for Lennie than you have, but Myra--"
"Humph!" She tossed her head and stood up as the train slowed down for Clarkton. "You think I'm afraid of that--that--her?"
"Well," I said, "it might be better if you was. You know how Myra is when she takes out after someone. By the time she gets through gossiping and telling lies, why--"
"Let me out, please."
She pushed past me and went on up the aisle, her head high, the ostrich plume on her hat dipping and swaying. As the train pulled out, I tried to wave to her where she stood on the platform. But she turned her head quickly, with another swoop of the ostrich plume, and started off up the street.
So that was that, and I told myself that maybe it was just as well. Because how could we ever mean anything to each other the way things stood?
There was Myra, of course, and there was going to be Myra, it looked like, until her or me died of old age. But Myra wasn't the only drawback.
Somehow, I'd gotten real friendly with a married woman, name of Rose Hauck. One of those involvements which I've always kind of drifted into before I knew what was happening. Rose didn't mean a thing to me, except that she was awful pretty and generous. But I meant plenty to her. I meant plenty-plenty, and she'd let me know it.
Just to show how smart Rose was, Myra considered her her very best friend. Yes, sir, Rose could put on that good an act. When we were alone, me and Rose that is, she'd cuss Myra until it actually made me blush. But when they were together, oh, brother! Rose would suck around her--honeyin' and deane-in' her--until heck wouldn't have it. And Myra would get so pleased and flustered that she'd almost weep for joy.
The surest way of gettin' a rise out of Myra was to hint that Rose was something less than perfect. Even Lennie couldn't do it. He started to onetime, just kind of hinted that anyone as pretty as Rose couldn't be as nice as she acted. And Myra slapped him clean across the room.

3
Maybe I didn't tell you, but this Ken Lacey I was going to visit was the sheriff a couple of counties down the river. Me and him met at a peace officers' convention one year, and we kind of cottoned to each other right away. He wasn't only real friendly, but he was plenty smart; I knew it the minute I started talking to him. So the first chance I got, I'd asked him advice about this problem I had.
"Um-hmmm!" he'd said, after I'd explained the situation and he'd thought it over for a while. "Now, this privy sits on public property, right? It's out in back of the courthouse?"
"That's right," I said. "That's exactly right, Ken."
"But it don't bother no one but you?"
"Right again," I said. "You see, the courtroom is on the downstairs rear, and it don't have no windows in back. The windows are upon the second floor where I live."
Ken asked me if I couldn't get the county commissioners to tear the privy down and I said no, I couldn't hardly do that. After all, a lot of people used it, and it might make 'em mad.
"And you can't get 'em to clean it out?" he asked. "Maybe sweeten it up a little with a few barrels of lime?"
"Why should they?" I said. "It don't bother no one but me. I'd probably call down trouble on myself if I ever cbmplained about it."
"Uh-_hah!_" Ken nodded. "It'd seem right selfish of you."
"But I got to do something about it, Ken," I said. "It ain't just the hot-weather smell, which is plenty bad by itself, but that's only part of it. Y'see, there's these danged big holes in the roof that show everthing that's going on inside. Say I've got some visitors in, and they think, Oh, my, you must have a wonderful view out that way. So they look out, and the only view they get is of some fella doing his business."
Ken said, "Uh-hah!" again, kind of coughing and stroking his mouth. Then, he went on to say that I really had a problem, a _real_ problem. "I can see how it might even upset a high sheriff like you, Nick, with all the pre-occu-pations of your great office."
"You got to help me, Ken," I said. "I'm getting plumb frazzled out of my wits."
"And I'm _going_ to help you," Ken nodded. "I ain't never let a brother officer down yet, and I ain't about to begin now."
So he told me what to do, and I did it. I sneaked out to the privy late that night, and I loosened a nail here and there, and I shifted the floor boards around a bit. The next morning, I was up early, all set to spring into action when the proper time came.
Well, sir, the fella that used the privy most was Mr. J.S. Dinwiddie, the bank president. He'd use it on the way home to lunch and on the way back from lunch, and on the way home at night and on the way in in the morning. Well, sometimes he'd pass it up, but never in the morning. By the time he'd got that far from his house his grits and gravy were working on him, and he just couldn't get to the privy fast enough.
He went rushing in that morning, the morning after I'd done my tampering--a big fat fella in a high white collar and a spanking new broadcloth suit. The floor boards went out from under him, and down into the pit. And he went down with them.