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post. "Madam, I should wonder if you pass that quote in telling jest, and not
some happy chance of twisted words about you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do. The passage actually goes thusly, a scene from the first act
of
Julius Caesar by the immortal bard himself." Doc cleared his throat.
"Let me have men about me that are fat;/ Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep
o'
nights./ Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look;/ He thinks too much: such men
are dangerous."
The old man's words rolled over the area, sounding pow-erful and resonant.
"Who are you?" Annie demanded.
Doc tucked his cane under his arm as he bowed with a flourish. "Dr. Theophilus
Algernon Tanner at your service, madam." His wide smile showed his impossibly
white teeth.
"You're a good-looking enough man to look at, Doc Tanner," Annie called back,
"and you talk flowery."
"Why, thank you kindly."
"Pretty words and a nice smile don't mean you're going to get inside, though."
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"Madam, let me assure you, we're here neither to harm nor rob you. Only to
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trade fairly and for things that we desperately need."
"I'm not known for giving out charity."
"Madam, I am reminded of some great words handed down by Sir Winston
Churchill, who was also a hard man to deal with," Doc stated.
"You will make all kinds of mistakes, but as long as you are generous and
true, and also fierce, you cannot hurt the world or even seriously distress
her."
"You're an interesting man, Doc Tanner."
"Your generous nature is already showing, madam."
"I would like to talk to you at length, given the oppor-tunity."
Ryan started to speak up, shifting to address the woman again. Krysty's hand
came down on his arm. "Ease off, lover," she said softly. "Doc's making
headway, and she's not going to be convinced by anyone else here."
Ryan studied the trading post, wondering how many blasters were inside. He
caught J.B.'s eye, knowing the Armorer was contemplating the same thing. No
matter how Doc's discourse with the woman turned out, they weren't moving on
without supplies. However they had to get them.
"By all means," Doc said, "I should be enchanted to enjoy your company. All
that requires is your invitation."
"I'd extend it to yourself," Annie called back.
"Then," Doc replied, "I must regretfully forego the pleasure, as enticing as
it sounds, for I shall not feel wel-come where my companions are not."
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"You're sure?"
"Yes, madam. Never more certain of anything in my life."
"What about you?" the woman called out. "The one-eyed, scruffy wolf."
"What?" Ryan growled.
"Would you send your man in if it might get you the provisions you wanted? At
a fair price?"
"I don't know you at all," Ryan replied, "except from what Morse has said. For
all
I know, you'll take Doc inside, then ransom him back to us for what we brought
to trade and more."
There was silence for a moment, then the woman's laughter pealed over them.
"Morse, do you vouch for these people?"
"As much as I can," the sailor answered. "We've been kind of forced together."
"Have you suffered at their hands?"
"Not yet. But there's been some threats made."
"And our one-eyed wolf looks like just the sort of man who'd carry those
threats out. Are you going to be willing to trade the blasters these men have
repaired for you?"
"I've got a balance I already owe you," Morse grunted. "I don't see how you're
going to let me take on the pro-visions we're going to need without trading."
"So you'll have eight handblasters," Ryan pointed out.
"What's your name, wolf?"
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"Ryan. Ryan Cawdor."
"I've heard of you. For a time you traveled with the Trader. But I thought you
were dead."
"Not hardly."
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"I don't suppose you'd agree to laying down your weap-ons before you enter the
trading post."
"No."
"Then come ahead, Mr. Cawdor, and be on your best behavior. Because if you
aren't, we'll bury you, and you can believe that."
Ryan kept the Steyr at the ready as the huge twin doors opened in the palisade
wall. Four armed men stood on the other side of the doors, weapons in their
hands. All of them looked rough and showed the wear and tear of harsh
ex-perience lived on the land.
Chapter Twenty-One
Inside the palisade walls, the wag trail followed the natural incline of the
land up to the main house. It was large and compact at the same time, full of
rooms and each positioned carefully in the building. The natural finish of the
wood had been left, and it had turned weathered and gray from exposure. Ryan
also noted the way the main house cut into the earth, realizing there was at
least one other floor beneath the ground level.
The interior of the trading camp was kept clean. No brush or trees grew up
from the hard-packed ground. A large vegetable garden occupied the northwest
corner
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nds%2045%20-%20Starfall.html of the trading post's interior area. Plants
thrust up toward the af-ternoon sun, and strawberry bushes burgeoned with
ripen-ing fruit.
"Mr. Cawdor," the woman's smoky voice called out.
Ryan turned, tracking the voice up the ladder to the right. A catwalk jutted
out from the inside walls. Three more men stood guard there, all watching the
new arrivals. Two girls that didn't look to be out of their teens stood on the
catwalk to the left of them, giving them a position to manage a cross fire.
Both of the females dressed in revealing clothing.
Annie was a fit-looking woman in her late fifties or early sixties, Ryan
judged, though she could have passed for ten or fifteen years younger. With
her gray-and-
black hair pulled back in a long ponytail, her body tight from hard living and
a complexion the color of a fawn's coat, she was a handsome enough woman. The
skin tone spoke of several possible heritages, or a mixture of them. She wore
dunga-rees and a rawhide vest that clung to her ample bosom.
"By the Three Kennedys," Doc exclaimed in a low voice, "now, there walks a
handsome woman."
"Put a lid on it, you randy old goat," Mildred snapped.
Doc shot Mildred a glower, but didn't say anything.
Annie approached Ryan without hesitation. She carried a sawed-off,
double-barrel shotgun in the crook of her left arm, her right hand fisting the
triggers. Both the hammers were eared back. "First sign of trouble from you,"
she told Ryan, "and
I'll put you in the compost heap. That's a promise."
Ryan nodded. "We'll get our trading done, then be on our way."
"Keep your eye on business all the time, Mr. Cawdor?"
"Yeah." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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