"Clayton Emery - Joseph Fisher - Inwardly Ravening Wolves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

the woods. And rather than squander his money on
rum, the clear-eyed Opechee bought only buckshot
and powder. Joseph had translated his transactions,
then invited Opechee to sleep by the Hopkins's
hearth. Warmed by rum and cider, the three young
men had talked the night away, the translations
growing blurrier and funnier.

Casually, Opechee commented, "There would be
room at the flakes of Pemaquid. Extra hands are
always welcome."

"I understand, and appreciate your -- generous
invitation." Walking and talking set Joseph
wheezing. "But `a man may not serve two masters.'
And they need me to -- help protect the village."

"That is true. It is amazing the English let their
pallisade rot. Are they children lost in the
wilderness, to believe praying will keep the red
hatchets at bay?" He took another tack. "If the
Sheepscots do take the warpath, many young
women left behind will pine."

Joseph joked, "There are enough women in Hull to
suit me."

"Young Bear's sister, who knits badly from watching
you and not her hands? She is wrapped in wool like
a green sheep! The women tending the flakes will
wear only breechclouts, which peel off easily."

"Gutting fish makes women slippery. Too hard to
hold onto."

Opechee almost smiled. "You would fare better with
an Abenaki woman. English woman are cold, I hear,
like fish taken through the ice."

"Only their feet are cold," Joseph chuckled. "Other
parts are warm."

The joke was so good Opechee's laugh was audible
to Paul. He said, "Bustin' a gut, you must be gassin'
about girls."

"No," Joseph teased, "only food. Sweetmeats."

Paul snorted. "Call Anne sweetmeat and she'll box
your ears till they ring. That girl can hit hard. Trust