"Steven Gould - Wildside" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

I shook my head. "The money isn't important. It's nothing. Not compared to the secret." I raised
my hands, palms up. "I don't blame you for being pissed off. I don't blame you for feeling not trusted.
But in a way, it's not my secret. It's not mine to share!"

Marie scooted over by Joey and took his hand. "So when, Charlie? Aren't you going to have to
share it anyway, eventually?"

I thought about Uncle Max. What would he want? What I planned to do would probably not
please him, regardless of whom I told.

"Okay. You're right. I'll show you. Wait here."

I went into the house, unlocked Uncle Max's gun cabinet, and took out the thirty-ought-six with
the five-shot cup and the Mossberg twenty-gauge pump shotgun. I double-checked that they were
loaded, and took an army surplus shoulder bag holding a pair of binoculars and more ammo.

When I walked back on the porch with the two weapons, Joey's eyes got wide. Everybody was
watching me very carefully.

"Here," I said. I handed Joey the thirty-ought-six. "It's loaded so be careful. Anybody else
hunt?"

Rick and Marie shook their heads, but Clara said, "I shoot skeet with a gun just like that."

I gave her the Mossberg. "It's also loaded. Follow me."

I walked toward the barn.




CHAPTER THREE

"SO, YOU THINK HE WENT THROUGH AND GOT
MUNCHED?"
I unlocked the padlock and swung the door open. When they'd trooped in, I shut it behind us.
The afternoon sun shone through cracks between boards, pushing long rays of light across the
suddenly dark place and making floating motes of dust glitter like stars. I flipped the light switch on,
then closed the padlock on an inside hasp, locking the door from within.

Joey rolled his eyes and let out his breath. Marie watched me carefully, her face still. Clara and
Rick raised their eyebrows at each other.

"Help me move this hay," I said, moving to the back wall and pulling down a bale from the top
row. I had to stand on tiptoe to snag the wire and caught it as it fell.

"All of it?" asked Clara. She leaned the shotgun into the corner, carefully. Joey copied her.

"Just this center section," I said, pointing. We stacked it to the side, in front of the empty stalls,
passing it bucket brigade fashion. When we'd pulled the top two rows off, they could see the