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conscience to death over what happened, he said quietly. Any experienced man can overcome an
innocent woman s scruples if he tries hard enough. And if she s attracted to him, he added gently.
She colored even more. Yes, well, I...I didn t mean...I don t...
He put a finger across her mouth. It s an intimate memory. For the two of us. No one else will ever
know. All right?
She nodded. All right.
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. Keep your doors locked when your father
isn t here, he said.
The tone of his voice was disturbing. Why?
I can t tell you.
She just sighed. As she started to speak, there was a terrible rapping sound against the side of the
house.
Carson was on his feet at once, his hand on the hilt of the big bowie knife.
That s just George.
He scowled. Who?
George. He s my red-bellied woodpecker. She grimaced. I put nuts out for him at daylight every
day. He s telling me he s hungry and I m late. She laughed. Listen. There was another sound, like
something small bounding across the roof. That s one of the squirrels. They let George do the
reminding, and then they queue for the nuts. She listened again. There was a loud cacophony of bird
calls. And those are the blue jays. They fight George for the nuts...
You know them by sound? he asked, surprised.
Of course. She got up, frowning slightly. Can t everybody identify them from the songs they
sing?
He shook his head. I don t believe this.
You can help me feed them if you want to. I mean, if you don t have something else to do, she
added quickly, not wanting him to feel pressured.
But he wasn t looking for a way out. He just smiled. Put on a coat, he said.
She pulled her ratty one out of the closet and grimaced. This is what it s best for, she sighed.
Feeding birds.
You should buy a new one.
She gave him a world-weary glance. With what? she asked. We just had to fill up the propane
tank again because winter doesn t appear to be leaving anytime soon. New things are a luxury around
here.
He was estimating the age of her shoes and jeans. The T-shirt appeared new. He cocked his head. It
was black with writing it had a picture of a big black bird on it. Underneath it read, Hey, you in the
house, bring more birdseed!
He chuckled. Cool shirt.
You like it? I designed it. There s this website. It has nice T-shirts for a reasonable price and you
can design your own. This is one of the grackles that come every spring. I haven t seen one just yet.
She led the way, picking up a container of birdseed and one of shelled nuts on the way.
The pecans came from our own trees, she said. The farm produce store that sells them has a
sheller you can run them through. I did enough to last several weeks.
Back home, we have ravens, he told her, his hands in his jeans as he followed her out to the big
backyard. Towering trees gave way to a small pasture beyond. And crows. He pursed his lips and
grinned. Did you know that crows used to be white?
White?
He nodded. It s a Brulé Lakota legend. The crow was white, and he was brother to the buffalo. So
he would warn the buffalo when the people came to hunt it. The warriors grew angry that they
couldn t get close to the buffalo, so one of them put on a buffalo skin and waited for the crow to
come and give its warning. When it did, he caught it by the feet. Another warrior, very angry, took it
from him and dashed it into the fire in revenge. The crow escaped, but its feathers were burned. So
now the crow is black.
She laughed with pure delight. I love stories.
Our legends fill books, he mused. That s one of my favorites.
That he d shared something from his culture with her made her feel warm, welcome. She turned to
look for the woodpecker. He was clinging to a nearby tree trunk making his usual lilting cry. Okay,
George, I m here, she called. She went to a ledge on the fence and spread the nuts along it. She filled
the bird feeder. Then she motioned to Carson and they moved away from the feeder.
A flash of striped feathers later, George was carting off the first pecan. He was followed by blue
jays and cardinals, a tufted titmouse and a wren.
She identified them to Carson as they came in. Then she laughed suddenly as a new birdcall was
heard, and started looking around. That s a red-winged blackbird, she said. I don t see him.
I do know that call, he replied. He shook his head, smiling. I ve never known anyone who could
listen to a birdsong and identify the bird without seeing it first.
Oh, I can t do them all, she assured him. Just a few. Listen. That one s a grackle! she exclaimed.
Hear it? It sounds like a rusty hinge being moved... There he is! [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]