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Way Of The Lawless by Max Brand, CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Young Andrew Lanning lived in the small, hushed world of his own thoughts. He neither loved nor hated the people around him. He simply did not see them. His mother—it was from her that he inherited the softer qualities of his mind and his face—had left him a little stock of books. And though Andy was by no means a reader, he had at least picked up that dangerous equipment of fiction which enables a man to dodge reality and live in his dreams. Those dreams had as little as possible to do with the daily routine of his life, and certainly the handling of guns, which his uncle enforced upon him, was never a part of the future as Andy saw it.

It was now the late afternoon; the alkali dust in the road was still in a white light, but the temperature in the shop had dropped several degrees. The horse of Buck Heath was shod, and Andy was laying his tools away for the day when he heard the noise of an automobile with open muffler coming down the street. He stepped to the door to watch, and at that moment a big blue car trundled into view around the bend of the road. The rear wheels struck a slide of sand and dust, and skidded; a girl cried out; then the big machine gathered out of the cloud of dust, and came toward Andy with a crackling like musketry, and it was plain that it would leap through Martindale and away into the country beyond at a bound. Andy could see now that it was a roadster, low-hung, ponderous, to keep the road.

Pat Gregg was leaving the saloon; he was on his horse, but he sat the saddle slanting, and his head was turned to give the farewell word to several figures who bulged through the door of the saloon. For that reason, as well as because of the fumes in his brain, he did not hear the coming of the automobile. His friends from the saloon yelled a warning, but he evidently thought it some jest, as he waved his hand with a grin of appreciation. The big car was coming, rocking with its speed; it was too late now to stop that flying mass of metal.

But the driver made the effort. His brakes shrieked, and still the car shot on with scarcely abated speed, for the wheels could secure no purchase in the thin sand of the roadway. Andy's heart stood still in sympathy as he saw the face of the driver whiten and grow tense. Charles Merchant, the son of rich John Merchant, was behind the wheel. Drunken Pat Gregg had taken the warning at last. He turned in the saddle and drove home his spurs, but even that had been too late had not Charles Merchant taken the big chance. At the risk of overturning the machine he veered it sharply to the left. It hung for a moment on two wheels. Andy could count a dozen heartbeats while the plunging car edged around the horse and shoved between Pat and the wall of the house—inches on either side. Yet it must have taken not more than the split part of a second.

There was a shout of applause from the saloon; Pat Gregg sat his horse, mouth open, his face pale, and then the heavy car rolled past the blacksmith shop. Andy, breathing freely and cold to his finger tips, saw young Charlie Merchant relax to a flickering smile as the girl beside him caught his arm and spoke to him.

And then Andy saw her for the first time.

In the brief instant as the machine moved by, he printed the picture to be seen again when she was gone. What was the hair? Red bronze, and fiery where the sun caught at it, and the eyes were gray, or blue, or a gray-green. But colors did not matter. It was all in her smile and the turning of her eyes, which were very wide open. She spoke, and it was in the sound of her voice. "Wait!" shouted Andy Lanning as he made a step toward them. But the car went on, rocking over the bumps and the exhaust roaring. Andy became aware that his shout had been only a dry whisper. Besides, what would he say if they did stop?

And then the girl turned sharply about and looked back, not at the horse they had so nearly struck, but at Andy standing in the door of his shop. He felt sure that she would remember his face; her smile had gone out while she stared, and now she turned her head suddenly to the front. Once more the sun flashed on her hair; then the machine disappeared. In a moment even the roar of the engine was lost, but it came back again, flung in echoes from some hillside.

Not until all was silent, and the boys from the saloon were shaking hands with Pat and laughing at him, did Andy turn back into the blacksmith shop. He sat down on the anvil with his heart beating, and began to recall the picture. Yes, it was all in the smile and the glint of the eyes. And something else—how should he say it?—of the light shining through her.

He stood up presently, closed the shop, and went home. Afterward his uncle came in a fierce humor, slamming the door. He found Andy sitting in front of the table staring down at his hands.

"Buck Heath has been talkin' about you," said Jasper. Andy raised his head. "Look at 'em!" he said as he spread out his hands. "I been scrubbin' 'em with sand soap for half an hour, and the oil and the iron dust won't come out." Uncle Jasper, who had a quiet voice and gentle manners, now stood rigid. "I wisht to God that some iron dust would work its way into your soul," he said. "What are you talking about?" "Nothin' you could understand; you need a mother to explain things to you." The other got up, white about the mouth. "I think I do," said Andy. "I'm sick inside." "Where's supper?" demanded Jasper.

Andy sat down again, and began to consider his hands once more. "There's something wrong—something dirty about this life." "Is there?" Uncle Jasper leaned across the table, and once again the old ghost of a hope was flickering behind his eyes. "Who's been talkin' to you?" He thought of the grinning men of the saloon; the hidden words. Somebody might have gone out and insulted Andy to his face for the first time. There had been plenty of insults in the past two years, since Andy could pretend to manhood, but none that might not be overlooked. "Who's been talkin' to you?" repeated Uncle Jasper. "Confound that Buck Heath! He's the cause of all the trouble!" "Buck Heath! Who's he? Oh, I remember. What's he got to do with the rotten life we lead here, Uncle Jas?" "So?" said the old man slowly. "He ain't nothin'?" "Bah!" remarked Andy. "You want me to go out and fight him? I won't. I got no love for fighting. Makes me sort of sickish." "Heaven above!" the older man invoked. "Ain't you got shame? My blood in you, too!" "Don't talk like that," said Andy with a certain amount of reserve which was not natural to him. "You bother me. I want a little silence and a chance to think things out. There's something wrong in the way I've been living." "You're the last to find it out." "If you keep this up I'm going to take a walk so I can have quiet." "You'll sit there, son, till I'm through with you. Now, Andrew, these years I've been savin' up for this moment when I was sure that—" To his unutterable astonishment Andy rose and stepped between him and the door. "Uncle Jas," he said, "mostly I got a lot of respect for you and what you think. Tonight I don't care what you or anybody else has to say. Just one thing matters. I feel I've been living in the dirt. I'm going out and see what's wrong. Good night."

CHAPTER 2 KAPITEL 2 CAPÍTULO 2 第2章 CAPÍTULO 2 第2章

Young Andrew Lanning lived in the small, hushed world of his own thoughts. Молодой Эндрю Лэннинг жил в маленьком приглушенном мирке собственных мыслей. He neither loved nor hated the people around him. Он не любил и не ненавидел окружающих его людей. He simply did not see them. Он их просто не видел. His mother—it was from her that he inherited the softer qualities of his mind and his face—had left him a little stock of books. Его мать — от нее он унаследовал более мягкие черты своего ума и лица — оставила ему небольшой запас книг. And though Andy was by no means a reader, he had at least picked up that dangerous equipment of fiction which enables a man to dodge reality and live in his dreams. И хотя Энди ни в коем случае не был читателем, он, по крайней мере, усвоил тот опасный инструмент вымысла, который позволяет человеку уклоняться от реальности и жить в своих мечтах. Those dreams had as little as possible to do with the daily routine of his life, and certainly the handling of guns, which his uncle enforced upon him, was never a part of the future as Andy saw it. Эти мечты имели как можно меньше общего с повседневной рутиной его жизни, и, конечно же, обращение с оружием, которое его дядя навязывал ему, никогда не было частью будущего, как его видел Энди.

It was now the late afternoon; the alkali dust in the road was still in a white light, but the temperature in the shop had dropped several degrees. Был уже поздний вечер; щелочная пыль на дороге еще светилась белым светом, но температура в магазине упала на несколько градусов. The horse of Buck Heath was shod, and Andy was laying his tools away for the day when he heard the noise of an automobile with open muffler coming down the street. Лошадь Бака Хита была подкована, и Энди укладывал свои инструменты на день, когда услышал шум автомобиля с открытым глушителем, едущего по улице. He stepped to the door to watch, and at that moment a big blue car trundled into view around the bend of the road. Он подошел к двери, чтобы посмотреть, и в этот момент из-за поворота дороги показалась большая синяя машина. The rear wheels struck a slide of sand and dust, and skidded; a girl cried out; then the big machine gathered out of the cloud of dust, and came toward Andy with a crackling like musketry, and it was plain that it would leap through Martindale and away into the country beyond at a bound. Задние колеса ударились о горку из песка и пыли и заскользили; вскрикнула девушка; затем большая машина собралась из облака пыли и ринулась к Энди с треском, похожим на выстрел из мушкета, и было ясно, что она прыгнет через Мартиндейл и унесется в дальнюю местность одним прыжком. Andy could see now that it was a roadster, low-hung, ponderous, to keep the road. Теперь Энди мог видеть, что это был родстер, низко посаженный и тяжелый, чтобы держать дорогу.

Pat Gregg was leaving the saloon; he was on his horse, but he sat the saddle slanting, and his head was turned to give the farewell word to several figures who bulged through the door of the saloon. Пэт Грегг выходил из салуна; он был на своей лошади, но сидел в седле наискось, и его голова была повернута, чтобы сказать прощальное слово нескольким фигурам, которые выпячивались через дверь салона. For that reason, as well as because of the fumes in his brain, he did not hear the coming of the automobile. По этой причине, а также из-за паров в голове он не услышал приближения автомобиля. His friends from the saloon yelled a warning, but he evidently thought it some jest, as he waved his hand with a grin of appreciation. Его друзья из салуна кричали предупреждение, но он, видимо, подумал, что это какая-то шутка, и с одобрительной улыбкой махнул рукой. The big car was coming, rocking with its speed; it was too late now to stop that flying mass of metal. Приближалась большая машина, раскачиваясь на своей скорости; было слишком поздно, чтобы остановить эту летящую массу металла.

But the driver made the effort. Но водитель постарался. His brakes shrieked, and still the car shot on with scarcely abated speed, for the wheels could secure no purchase in the thin sand of the roadway. Его тормоза взвизгнули, а машина по-прежнему мчалась вперед, едва сбавляя скорость, потому что колеса не могли закрепиться на тонком песке проезжей части. Andy's heart stood still in sympathy as he saw the face of the driver whiten and grow tense. Сердце Энди замерло от сочувствия, когда он увидел, как лицо шофера побелело и напряглось. Charles Merchant, the son of rich John Merchant, was behind the wheel. За рулем был Чарльз Мерчант, сын богатого Джона Мерчанта. Drunken Pat Gregg had taken the warning at last. Пьяный Пэт Грегг наконец понял предупреждение. He turned in the saddle and drove home his spurs, but even that had been too late had not Charles Merchant taken the big chance. Он повернулся в седле и направил шпоры домой, но даже это было бы слишком поздно, если бы Чарльз Мерчант не рискнул. At the risk of overturning the machine he veered it sharply to the left. Рискуя опрокинуть машину, он резко повернул ее влево. It hung for a moment on two wheels. На мгновение он повис на двух колесах. Andy could count a dozen heartbeats while the plunging car edged around the horse and shoved between Pat and the wall of the house—inches on either side. Энди мог насчитать дюжину ударов сердца, пока мчащаяся машина обогнула лошадь и врезалась между Пэт и стеной дома — в дюйме с каждой стороны. Yet it must have taken not more than the split part of a second. Однако это должно было занять не более доли секунды.

There was a shout of applause from the saloon; Pat Gregg sat his horse, mouth open, his face pale, and then the heavy car rolled past the blacksmith shop. Из салона раздались аплодисменты; Пэт Грегг сел на коня с открытым ртом и бледным лицом, а затем тяжелая машина проехала мимо кузницы. Andy, breathing freely and cold to his finger tips, saw young Charlie Merchant relax to a flickering smile as the girl beside him caught his arm and spoke to him. Энди, свободно дыша и похолодев до кончиков пальцев, увидел, как юный Чарли Мерчант расслабился в мерцающей улыбке, когда девушка рядом с ним схватила его за руку и заговорила с ним.

And then Andy saw her for the first time. И тогда Энди увидел ее в первый раз.

In the brief instant as the machine moved by, he printed the picture to be seen again when she was gone. В то короткое мгновение, пока машина проезжала мимо, он распечатал картинку, чтобы снова увидеть ее, когда она уйдет. What was the hair? Какие были волосы? Red bronze, and fiery where the sun caught at it, and the eyes were gray, or blue, or a gray-green. Красно-бронзовый и огненный там, где попадало солнце, а глаза были серыми, или голубыми, или серо-зелеными. But colors did not matter. It was all in her smile and the turning of her eyes, which were very wide open. She spoke, and it was in the sound of her voice. Она говорила, и это было в звуке ее голоса. "Wait!" "Ждать!" shouted Andy Lanning as he made a step toward them. — закричал Энди Лэннинг, делая шаг к ним. But the car went on, rocking over the bumps and the exhaust roaring. Но машина ехала, раскачиваясь на кочках и ревет выхлоп. Andy became aware that his shout had been only a dry whisper. Энди понял, что его крик был всего лишь сухим шепотом. Besides, what would he say if they did stop? Кроме того, что бы он сказал, если бы они остановились?

And then the girl turned sharply about and looked back, not at the horse they had so nearly struck, but at Andy standing in the door of his shop. И тут девушка резко обернулась и оглянулась, но не на лошадь, которую они чуть не сбили, а на Энди, стоящего в дверях своего магазина. He felt sure that she would remember his face; her smile had gone out while she stared, and now she turned her head suddenly to the front. Он был уверен, что она запомнит его лицо; ее улыбка погасла, пока она смотрела, и теперь она внезапно повернула голову вперед. Once more the sun flashed on her hair; then the machine disappeared. Еще раз солнце блеснуло на ее волосах; затем машина исчезла. In a moment even the roar of the engine was lost, but it came back again, flung in echoes from some hillside. Через мгновение пропал даже рев мотора, но он вернулся снова, эхом отлетев от какого-то склона холма.

Not until all was silent, and the boys from the saloon were shaking hands with Pat and laughing at him, did Andy turn back into the blacksmith shop. Только когда все стихло и мальчики из салуна пожимали руки Пэту и смеялись над ним, Энди вернулся в кузницу. He sat down on the anvil with his heart beating, and began to recall the picture. Он сел на наковальню с бьющимся сердцем и стал вспоминать картину. Yes, it was all in the smile and the glint of the eyes. Да, все дело было в улыбке и блеске глаз. And something else—how should he say it?—of the light shining through her. И что-то еще — как бы это сказать? — света, сияющего сквозь нее.

He stood up presently, closed the shop, and went home. Вскоре он встал, закрыл лавку и пошел домой. Afterward his uncle came in a fierce humor, slamming the door. После этого его дядя пришел в свирепом настроении, хлопнув дверью. He found Andy sitting in front of the table staring down at his hands. Он нашел Энди сидящим перед столом и уставившимся на свои руки.

"Buck Heath has been talkin' about you," said Jasper. — Бак Хит говорил о тебе, — сказал Джаспер. Andy raised his head. Энди поднял голову. "Look at 'em!" he said as he spread out his hands. — сказал он, разводя руками. "I been scrubbin' 'em with sand soap for half an hour, and the oil and the iron dust won't come out." -- Полчаса мылом песочным мыл, а масло и железная пыль не выходят. Uncle Jasper, who had a quiet voice and gentle manners, now stood rigid. Дядя Джаспер, обладавший тихим голосом и мягкими манерами, теперь стоял неподвижно. "I wisht to God that some iron dust would work its way into your soul," he said. -- Дай бог, чтобы в вашу душу проникла железная пыль, -- сказал он. "What are you talking about?" "О чем ты говоришь?" "Nothin' you could understand; you need a mother to explain things to you." «Ничего, что ты мог бы понять; тебе нужна мать, чтобы объяснить тебе». The other got up, white about the mouth. Другой встал, белый рот. "I think I do," said Andy. — Думаю, да, — сказал Энди. "I'm sick inside." «Я болен внутри». "Where's supper?" "Где ужин?" demanded Jasper. — спросил Джаспер.

Andy sat down again, and began to consider his hands once more. Энди снова сел и снова стал рассматривать свои руки. "There's something wrong—something dirty about this life." «Что-то не так, что-то грязное в этой жизни». "Is there?" "Здесь?" Uncle Jasper leaned across the table, and once again the old ghost of a hope was flickering behind his eyes. Дядя Джаспер перегнулся через стол, и в его глазах снова мелькнул старый призрак надежды. "Who's been talkin' to you?" — Кто с тобой разговаривал? He thought of the grinning men of the saloon; the hidden words. Он подумал об ухмыляющихся мужчинах в салуне; скрытые слова. Somebody might have gone out and insulted Andy to his face for the first time. Кто-то мог выйти и впервые оскорбить Энди в лицо. There had been plenty of insults in the past two years, since Andy could pretend to manhood, but none that might not be overlooked. За последние два года было много оскорблений, поскольку Энди мог притворяться мужественным, но ни одно из них нельзя было не заметить. "Who's been talkin' to you?" repeated Uncle Jasper. "Confound that Buck Heath! «Черт бы побрал этого Бака Хита! He's the cause of all the trouble!" Он причина всех бед!" "Buck Heath! Who's he? Oh, I remember. What's he got to do with the rotten life we lead here, Uncle Jas?" Какое ему дело до гнилой жизни, которую мы здесь ведем, дядя Джас? "So?" said the old man slowly. "He ain't nothin'?" — Он ничего? "Bah!" remarked Andy. "You want me to go out and fight him? I won't. I got no love for fighting. Я не люблю драться. Makes me sort of sickish." Меня тошнит». "Heaven above!" the older man invoked. — взмолился пожилой мужчина. "Ain't you got shame? «Тебе не стыдно? My blood in you, too!" Моя кровь в тебе тоже!" "Don't talk like that," said Andy with a certain amount of reserve which was not natural to him. — Не говори так, — сказал Энди с некоторой несвойственной ему сдержанностью. "You bother me. I want a little silence and a chance to think things out. Я хочу немного тишины и шанс все обдумать. There's something wrong in the way I've been living." Что-то не так в том, как я живу». "You're the last to find it out." — Ты последний, кто об этом узнает. "If you keep this up I'm going to take a walk so I can have quiet." «Если ты продолжишь в том же духе, я собираюсь прогуляться, чтобы побыть в тишине». "You'll sit there, son, till I'm through with you. "Ты будешь сидеть там, сынок, пока я не закончу с тобой. Now, Andrew, these years I've been savin' up for this moment when I was sure that—" Так вот, Эндрю, эти годы я копила на тот момент, когда я была уверена, что... To his unutterable astonishment Andy rose and stepped between him and the door. К его невыразимому изумлению, Энди встал и встал между ним и дверью. "Uncle Jas," he said, "mostly I got a lot of respect for you and what you think. «Дядя Джас, — сказал он, — в основном я очень уважаю вас и то, что вы думаете. Tonight I don't care what you or anybody else has to say. Сегодня меня не волнует, что ты или кто-либо еще скажет. Just one thing matters. Только одно имеет значение. I feel I've been living in the dirt. Я чувствую, что живу в грязи. I'm going out and see what's wrong. Я выхожу и смотрю, что не так. Good night."