"Phyllis A. Whitney - Stone Bull" - читать интересную книгу автора (Whitney Phyllis A)

I always feel like walking, as I always feel like climbing, sure-footed enough outdoors, and I was in a mood to be amazed and delighted by whatever he wanted to show me. As I was so continually amazed and delighted with this man who was my husband.
When we'd driven a mile or two, with the hotel still not in sight, he pulled off the road in a suitable spot and we got out of the car, striking off along a path that climbed through the woods. I was already glorying in the clear mountain air and the sight of sunlight striking its beams through the heavy stands of trees. I counted beech and maple and oak all about us, as well as scattered stands of pine trees-the latter planted there long ago by early McClains and their descendants. Some of the maples burned at the top with fiery red because there had been a recent frost, and the air was bracing and cold for mid-September. We walked hand-in-hand and there was so much love between us that my heart brimmed and no words were needed. I mustn't question my luck, I mustn't ask why. I needed only to believe-and that I could do with my whole being. Brendon had already taught me how much he loved me.
"I grew up here," he said, as the narrow trail twisted and the way steepened. "I know and love every inch of the place. My father and old Keir Devin taught me. My father died eight years ago, and two years later Mother married Loring Grant. Keir is still boss of the whole outdoors and you'll meet him. His son-" He broke off and something hesitant came into his voice. "Never mind-you don't need to meet Magnus for a while."
We rounded a turn in the path and I forgot his words. We were out in the open beneath an arched blue sky, with the forest above and behind us. Immediately below, shining like a deep blue sapphire in its setting of surrounding green, lay the lake, an irregular oval, curving gently into the steep folds of the shore around it Opposite us at one end spread the fairytale creation that was the Mountain House.
Its red roofs were towered and steepled and there were stone battlements as well. On one steeple a cock weather vane turned in the wind,
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and from another flew the flag of stars and stripes. The whole was a conglomeration of architecture that matched the whim of builders over the past hundred years and more, and it reminded me of some fanciful painting of Camelot. Hundreds of windows and balconies overlooked the lake, and little summerhouses blossomed here and there along shore and trails, their thatched or shingled roofs offering shelter, their wooden benches rest for weary walkers. A few small boats dotted the water at this afternoon hour and on the far side, where the hotel ended, there was a massive outcropping of rock.
Brendon, having satisfied himself with a quick glance at the view, was watching me, waiting. I looked up at him and saw the tenderness in his eyes and on that mouth that could be hard and arrogant I saw as well the question.
"Yes!" I cried. "Oh, yes!"
He put an arm around me and held me close. "You've passed the test, darling. If you'd made one crack about its being monstrous and ugly, I'd have taken you straight back to New York and divorced you!"
He was laughing, but I knew he half meant it. He had grown up loving this place as a boy and a young man, and it was part of him. That it might be an architectural anachronism didn't matter. It was also splendid and beautiful as it floated there on the lake like something out of a dream.
Far below us, a few small figures moved about on the lawns before the hotel, and a few others could be seen on the mooring platform for the boats.
"I love to row," I said. "Do you think I can take a boat out on the lake?"
"Of course. I keep a boat of my own down the lake and you can have it whenever you wish."
I nodded my thanks. The scene was utterly quiet. We had met no one on the trails, and the woods seemed empty.
"It's so peaceful," I said. "So quiet and-and safe."
'What do you mean by that?" Brendon's arm tightened around me.
I wasn't quite sure. I didn't know why the thought of danger should occur to me in the midst of these quiet woods.
"I don't know," I told him. "Perhaps there are fewer things to hurt one here."
"I'm not sure that's altogether true. Nature has its own threats."
"In a place like this?"
"Of course. We have our share of mishaps. Ask Keir."
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"But hardly fatal ones, I should think."
His arm pressed me forward and I suddenly realized that just beyond the shielding shadbushes at our feet a rocky precipice dropped away.
"Don't be so trustful," he said, and drew me back. "If you tumbled off that, it would very likely be fatal. And out in the middle, the lake is practically bottomless."
The words sounded so ominous that I looked up at him quickly and caught the grim set of his mouth. When I shivered he turned me back toward the trail.
"Let's go down and drive in properly. My mother will be waiting for us. They've already called her from the gate and she'll be wondering where we are."
Because of that grim look I'd glimpsed in his face, I had to know more. "Have you had any deaths by accident on the place?"
"Only one that I recall, and we want people to forget about it, so don't go around asking questions."
Rebuffed, I walked beside him in silence. On the way down I stopped now and then to admire the various varieties of ferns that grew in the woods. I'd always loved to draw the detail of a fern frond, and I couldn't wait to come out with my sketching things.
As we neared the car, I began to think with interest of Brendon's family. At that moment I had no great concern about meeting Irene McClain Grant, his mother, or his stepfather, Loring Grant. Anyone related to Brendon I was prepared to like on sight, and I was eager to make their acquaintance and be liked in return.
Now that it is later, now that night has fallen and I sit here waiting, I am not so sure I shall be comfortable with his family. I have a strange sense that something more is wrong than I've glimpsed on the surface. As though something were stirring beneath the peace and serenity-something faintly sinister.
But I had none of that feeling as we drove on toward the hotel. At a place where wide lawns tumbled down the rolling hillside, and the shrubbery grew more domesticated, we met a truck coming toward us, marked with the insignia of the Mountain House-a panther crouched on a rockthat logo I'd already seen on the way in, and on notepaper and brochures. I had thought the drawing a good one, though I was puzzled as to why a panther had been chosen.
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"There's Keir's truck," Brendon said, slowing the car, "and that's Keir Devin driving. I want you to meet him. He's been like a second father to me."
The truck stopped beside us, and we all got out onto the roadway. I liked Keir at once. I liked the strong clasp of his hand, the keen, studying look of gray eyes that told me of his fondness for Brendon and his interest in seeing him happy. I sensed that this man would not accept me with easy approval before he knew me. He would take my measure, and if it didn't add up to what he wanted for Brendon, I knew he would reject me. But not without fair trial, and I thought I could meet his testing.
"I know about you," I said. "Brendon says you'll help me to know the woods and the trees and plants. Will you, please?"
He was in his mid-sixties, Brendon had said, and his hair was white, the skin of his face tanned and leathery from long outdoor exposure. Yet he seemed younger, with his vigor and youthful carriage. A plaid shirt with khaki pants made up his work clothes, and as he came toward us he'd removed his wide-brimmed felt hat. While he was as tall as Brendon, his shoulders were even wider, and I had an impression of wiry strength that could cope with the outdoors.
He held my hand for a moment, still studying me. "Of course," he said in answer to my request. "But there's a lot to learn."
Brendon smiled his affection for the older man. "Jenny knows a bit more than how to tell a dandelion from a daisy, Keir. You'll approve of her. She's been teaching ecology out in New Jersey, you know."
'Tine. I'll put you to work," Keir told me, and then looked at Brendon. "It's good you're back. You're badly needed."
"Something wrong?" Brendon picked up his words.
"Everything."
"Loring?"
"Right. You've been away too long and he's got the bit between his teeth. He's talking about clearing the woods for cottages up near Rainbow Point. He wants to cut down an entire stand of Norway pine."
"We'll stop that, don't worry," Brendon said. "We have all the cottages we want in the area near the hotel."
"Loring thinks ten aren't enough, and he's talking expansion. Magnus is pretty mad, since it would be treading on his territory. He's likely to brain the driver of the first bulldozer that comes in, and I'm not sure I won't help him."
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