"Robert A. Heinlein - Starman Jones" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

worn-out, worthless pieces of property. I . . ."
"I use government fertilizers."
"Worthless I said and worthless I meant. For farming, that is." He put
his finger along his nose, looked sly, and explained. It seemed that some big
government power project was afoot for which this area had been
selected--Montgomery was mysterious about it, from which Max concluded that he
didn't know very much. A syndicate was quietly buying up land in anticipation
of government purchase. "So we held 'em up for five times what they expected
to pay. Pretty good, huh?"
Maw put in, "You see, Maxie? If your father had known that we would ever
get . . ."
"Quiet, Nellie!"
"But I was just going to tell him how much . . ."
"'Quiet!' I said."
She shut up. Montgomery pushed his chair back, stuck his cigar in his
mouth, and got up. Max put water on to heat for the dishes, scraped the plates
and took the leavings out to the chickens. He stayed out quite a spell,
looking at the stars and trying to think. The idea of having Biff Montgomery
in the family shook him to his bones. He wondered just what rights a
stepfather had, or, rather a step-stepfather, a man who had married his
stepmother. He didn't know.
Presently he decided that he had to go back inside, much as he hated to.
He found Montgomery standing at the bookshelf he had built over the stereo
receiver; the man was pawing at the books and had piled several on the
receiver. He looked around. "You back? Stick around, I want you to tell me
about the live stock."
Maw appeared in the doorway. "Darling," she said to Montgomery, "can't
that wait till morning?"
"Don't be in a hurry, my dear," he answered. "That auctioneer fellow
will be here early. I've got to have the inventory ready." He continued to
pull books down. "Say, these are pretty things." He held in his hands half a
dozen volumes, printed on the finest of thin paper and bound in limp plastic.
"I wonder what they're worth? Nellie, hand me my specs."
Max advanced hastily, reached for them. "Those are mine!"
"Huh?" Montgomery glanced at him, then held the books high in the air.
"You're too young to own anything. No, everything goes. A clean sweep and a
fresh start."
"They're mine! My uncle gave them to me." He appealed to his mother.
"Tell him, Maw."
Montgomery said quietly, "Yes, Nellie, set this youngster
straight--before I have to correct him."
Nellie looked worried. "Well, I don't rightly know. They did belong to
Chet."
"And Chet was your brother? Then you're Chet's heir, not this young
cub."
"He wasn't her brother, he was her brother-in-law!"
"So? No matter. Your father was your uncle's heir, then, and your mother
is your father's heir. Not you, you're a minor. That's the law, son. Sorry."
He put the books on the shelf but remained standing in front of them.
Max felt his right upper lip begin to twitch uncontrollably; he knew