p&c.thunderhead-第44章

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　Skip　started　to　retort；　then　stopped；　mouth　open。　〃What　are　you　saying？〃　he　said　at　last。　
　〃I　ain't　saying　nothing。　Your　brakes　were　drained　clean。〃　Elmo's　rubbery　lips　twisted　into　what　might　have　been　a　smile；　and　he　licked　at　them　with　a　red　tongue。　〃Got　any　enemies？〃　
　Skip　scoffed。　〃That's　crazy。　No；　I　。　。　。〃　He　paused　a　moment　thinking。　〃You　mean；　somebody　could've　drained　them？　Deliberately？〃　
　Elmo　nodded　again；　and　inserted　a　finger　into　one　ear；　giving　it　a　few　hard　twists。　〃Only　problem　is　the　brake　fluid　cap　was　rusted　shut；　so's　how　it　got　drained　is　kind　of　problematical。〃　
　But　Skip　was　still　thinking。　〃No；〃　he　repeated　at　last　in　a　softer　voice。　〃The　brakes　were　working　fine　one　minute；　gone　the　next。〃　He　glanced　at　his　watch；　irritation　once　again　welling　up　within　him。　〃I'm　late　for　work。　I've　got　this　boss　who　rips　the　balls　off　people　who　are　late。　And　on　top　of　everything　else；　you　give　me　this…〃　He　gestured　at　Elmo's　loaner　car；　an　ancient　Volkswagen　Beetle　with　a　crumpled　rear　fender　and　doors　of　mismatched　colors。　〃I'd　rather　drive　my　own；　even　without　brakes。〃　
　Elmo　worked　his　shoulders　through　their　perpetual　shrug。　〃It'll　be　ready　by　five　P。M。　Friday。〃　
　〃And　rework　that　bill　while　you're　reworking　the　car；〃　Skip　replied。　〃There's　no　way　I'm　paying　six　hundred　for　somebody　else's　negligence。〃　With　effort；　he　stuffed　Teddy　Bear　into　the　Beetle；　then　lowered　himself　gingerly　into　the　driver's　seat　and　cranked　the　engine。　
　He　eased　into　first　and　chugged　noisily　out　into　traffic；　pointing　the　car's　snout　down　the　strip　that　eventually　would　bring　him　back　to　town；　the　Institute；　and　the　waiting　Sonya　Rowling。　He　could　feel　a　headache　ing　on；　faint　for　the　moment　but　getting　stronger。　It　seemed　to　encircle　his　temples；　like　a　headband。　Despite　his　bluster；　he　felt　profoundly　disturbed；　and　his　heart　raced　as　he　worked　his　way　up　through　the　gears。　For　a　minute；　he　thought　of　heading　back　out　to　Teresa's；　checking　the　ground　where　he'd　parked　the　car　for　a　puddle　of　fluid。　But　even　as　the　thought　came　to　him；　he　knew　he　never　wanted　to　see　the　place　again。　
　Then；　on　impulse；　he　pulled　the　car　onto　the　shoulder　and　slipped　the　gearshift　into　neutral。　Something　about　this　didn't　seem　right；　at　all。　And　it　wasn't　just　the　bizarre　circumstances；　either；　the　moment　Elmo　had　mentioned　enemies；　a　sudden　chill　had　enveloped　Skip。　
　He　sat　on　the　shoulder；　thinking。　Vaguely；　very　vaguely；　he　remembered　his　father；　sitting　at　the　dinner　table；　drinking　coffee　and　telling　him　a　story。　For　some　reason；　Skip　couldn't　remember　the　story。　But　he　remembered　his　mother　frowning；　telling　Skip's　dad　to　talk　about　something　else。　
　Something　else　。　。　。　there　was　something　else　that　had　happened　recently；　something　that　dovetailed　with　all　this　in　a　strange　and　awful　way。　
　Suddenly；　Skip　put　the　Volkswagen　into　gear　and；　with　a　quick　glance　over　his　shoulder；　urged　the　car　back　into　traffic。　But　instead　of　heading　toward　the　Institute；　he　peeled　off　at　the　next　corner　and　began　threading　his　way　through　a　maze　of　seedy　side　streets；　urging　the　old　car　forward；　cursing　it；　his　fingers　drumming　impatiently　on　the　wheel。　
　Pulling　up　at　last　in　front　of　his　apartment；　he　half　ran；　half　leaped　up　the　flight　of　stairs；　dragging　Teddy　Bear　behind　him；　fumbling　with　his　keychain　and　unlocking　both　locks　as　quickly　as　he　could。　
　Inside；　the　apartment　smelled　of　unwashed　socks　and　ancient　half…eaten　meals。　Jerking　the　chain　of　an　overhead　light；　Skip　made　a　beeline　to　the　cinderblock…and…plywood　bookshelf　that　leaned　precariously　against　a　far　wall。　Kneeling　in　front　of　the　lowest　row；　his　finger　traced　across　the　old　spines　of　the　books　that　had　been　his　father's；　the　faded　titles　etched　faintly　in　lines　of　dust。　
　Then　his　finger　stopped　on　a　thin；　battered　gray　book。　〃Skinwalkers；　Witches；　and　Curanderas：　Witchcraft　and　Sorcery　Practices　of　the　Southwest；〃　Skip　softly　breathed　the　title　aloud。　
　The　urgent　rush　that　had　propelled　him　back　to　the　apartment　was　now　replaced　by　hesitation　and　uncertainty。　There　was　terrible　and　hideous　knowledge　in　this　book；　he　recalled。　More　than　anything；　Skip　did　not　want　to　have　that　knowledge　confirm　the　fear　that　was　now　growing　inside　him。　
　He　knelt　there；　by　the　old　books；　for　what　seemed　a　long　time。　Then　at　last　he　gripped　the　volume　in　both　hands；　carried　it　to　the　orange　couch；　opened　it　carefully；　and　began　to　read。　
　
　
34
　
　AS　THEY　EMERGED　FROM　THE　GLOOM　OF　the　slot　canyon　into　the　cottonwood　valley；　Nora　could　tell　at　a　glance　something　was　wrong。　Rather　than　being　scattered　indolently　across　the　sparse　grass；　the　horses　were　bunched　together　by　the　stream；　snorting　and　tossing　their　heads。　She　quickly　scanned　the　valley　floor；　the　stone　ramparts；　the　ragged　form　of　the　Devil's　Backbone。　There　was　nobody。　
　Swire　snugged　the　revolver　into　his　belt　and　led　the　way　to　the　horses。　〃You　take　pa？ero；〃　he　said　to　Smithback；　reaching　for　a　saddle。　〃He's　too　dumb　to　be　scared。〃　
　Nora　found　her　own　saddle　from　among　the　pile；　located　Arbuckles；　and　threw　it　over　his　back。　Then　she　held　the　horses　still　while　Swire　knelt　to　remove　the　shoes。　He　worked　in　silence；　using　a　chisel　to　get　underneath　the　clinched　end　of　each　nail　and　bending　it　straight；　taking　great　pains　not　to　clip　or　crack　the　nailhole。　Once　all　the　nails　were　straight；　he　pried　the　shoe　from　the　hoof　with　a　clinch　cutter。　Nora　found　herself　impressed　by　his　skill：　shoeing　and　unshoeing　a　horse　in　the　field　without　an　anvil　was　neither　a　mon　nor　desirable　practice。　
　At　last　he　stood　up；　wordlessly　handing　Nora　fresh　nails　along　with　the　shoes；　hammer；　and　clincher。　〃Sure　you　can　do　this？〃　he　asked。　Nora　nodded；　and　the　wrangler　gestured　for　Smithback　to　mount。　
　〃There　was　a　lot　of　wind　in　the　valley　last　night；〃　Swire　said；　cinching　the　saddle　tight　and　handing　the　reins　to　Smithback。　〃Maybe　that's　why　there　ain't　no　tracks　down　here　in　all　this　loose　sand。　Might　have　better　luck　on　top；　or　down　the　far　side。〃　
　Nora　secured　the　saddlebags；　tested　the　saddle's　fit；　then　swung　up。　〃Smithback's　going　to　need　a　gun；〃　she　said。　
　After　a　moment；　the　wrangler　silently　handed　over　his　pistol；　along　with　a　handful　of　bullets。　
　〃I'd　rather　have　the　rifle；〃　the　writer　said。　
　Swire　shook　his　head。　〃If　anybody　es　over　that　ridge；　I　want　to　have　a　good　bead　on　him；〃　he　replied。　
　〃Just　make　sure　it　isn't　us；〃　Smithback　said　as　he　mounted　pa？ero。　
　Nora　looked　around　for　a　final　time；　then　turned　to　Swire。　〃Thanks　for　the　horses。〃　She　nosed　Arbuckles　away　from　the　group。　
　〃Just　a　minute。〃　Nora　turned　back　to　see　Swire　looking　at　her　evenly。　
　〃Good　luck；〃　he　said　at　last。　
　They　rode　away　from　the　stream；　angling　across　the　uneven　land　toward　the　heavy　bulk　of　the　ridge　ahead；　in　shadow　despite　the　bright　morning　sun。　Over　the　thin　murmur　of　the　stream　and　the　call　of　the　canyon　wrens；　Nora　could　now　hear　a　different　sound：　a　low；　steady　drone；　like　the　hum　of　a　magneto。　Then　they　topped　a　small　rise　and　two　low　forms　came　into　view：　the　remains　of　Hoosegow　and　Crow　Bait。　A　black　cloud　of　flies　hung　over　them。　
　〃Jesus；〃　Smithback　muttered。　
　Arbuckles　began　to　prance　and　whinny　beneath　her；　and　Nora　veered　left；　giving　the　carcasses　a　wide　berth　on　the　upwind　side。　Even　so；　as　they　passed　she　caught　a　brief　glimpse　of　coiled　ropes　of　entrails；　bluish…gray　and　steaming　in　the　sun；　webbed　in　black　traceries　of　flies。　Beyond　the　scene　of　the　massacre；　she　stopped。　
　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　Smithback　asked。　
　〃I'm　going　to　take　a　minute　to　look　more　closely。〃　
　〃Mind　if　I　stay　here？〃　Smithback　asked　in　a　strained　voice。　
　Dismounting　and　giving　her　reins　to　Smithback；　Nora　walked　back　over　the　rise。　The　flies；　disturbed　by　her　approach；　rose　in　a　roaring；　angry　mass。　The　high　winds　had　scoured　the　ground；　but　here　and　there　she　could　make　out　old　horse　tracks　and　some　fresher　coyote　prints。　Except　for　the　marks　of　Swire's　boots；　there　were　no　human　footprints。　As　Swire　had　said；　the　entrails　had　been　arranged　in　a　spiral　pattern。　Brightly　colored　macaw　feathers；　shockingly　out　of　place　in　the　arid　landscape；　protruded　from　the　eye　sockets。　The　carcasses　had　been　stabbed　with　some　painted　and　feathered　twigs。　
　As　she　was　about　to　turn　away；　she　noticed　something　else。　A　circular　patch　of　skin　had　been　cut　from　the　foreheads　of　both　horses。　Examining　these　more　closely；　Nora　saw　that　similar　patches　had　been　removed　symmetrically　from　a　spot　on　either　side　of　the　horse's　chests；　and　from　two　more　spots　on　either　side　of　their　lower　bellies。　Why　there？　What　could　this　possibly　mean？　
　She　shook　her　head　and　retreated　from　the　killing　ground。　
　〃Who　could　do　such　a　thing？〃　Smithback　asked　as　she　remounted。　
　Who　indeed？　It　was　the　question　Nora　had　been　asking　herself　for　the　last　hour。　The　answer　that　seemed　most　likely　was　too　frightening　to　contemplate。　
　Within　twenty　minutes　they　had　reached　the　base　of　the　ridge。　In　another　twenty；　following　the　gentle　trail　up；　they　crested　the　top　of　the　Devil's　Backbone。　Nora　brought　the　horses　to　a　stop　and　dismounted　again；　gazing　slowly　over　the　vista　ahead。　The　great　divide　looked　out　over　thousands　of　miles　of　slickrock　canyons。　To　the　north；　she　could　see　the　distant　blue　hump　of　Barney　Top；　and　to　the　northeast；　the　silent　sentinel　of　the　Kaiparowits。　
　And；　directly　ahead；　were　the　narrow　vicious　switchbacks　that　led　down　the　face　of　the　hogback　ridge。　Somewhere　at　the　bottom　lay　Fiddlehead；　Hurricane　Deck；　and　Beetlebum。　
　〃Tell　me　we're　not　really　going　down　that　again；〃　Smithback　said。　
　Nora　remained　silent。　She　dismounted　and　took　a　few　steps　from　the　horses；　scouring　the　patches　of　sand　that　lay　among　the　rocks。　There　were　no　signs　of　a　horse；　but　then；　the　wind　at　the　top　of　the　ridge　would　have　swept　them　away。　
　She　looked　back　down　the　way　they　had　e。　Though　she'd　kept　a　careful　lookout　as　they　climbed；　she　had　seen　nothing　but　old　hoofprints。　She　shivered；　she　knew　very　well　there　was　no　other　way　into　the　valley。　And　yet；　somehow；　the　mysterious　horse　killers　had　left　no　sign　of　their　passing。　
　Tearing　her　eyes　away；　she　looked　back　around　to　the　steep　trail　ahead　of　them；　leading　down　the　front　of　the　Devil's　Backbone。　It　seemed　to　simply　disappear　over　the　edge　into　sheer　space。　She　knew　it　was　always　more　dangerous　to　descend　than　to　ascend。　The　terrifying　memory　of　how　she'd　scrabbled　at　the　cliff　face；　feet　kicking　in　dead　space；　returned　with　redoubled　force。　She　rubbed　her　fingertips；　now　free　of　bandages　but　still　tingling　with　the　memory。　
　〃I'm　going　to　hike　down　a　ways　on　foot；〃　Nora　murmured。　〃You　wait　here。〃　
　〃Anything　to　stay　off　that　trail；〃　Smithback　said。　〃I　can't　imagine　a　worse　way　down　a　cliff　than　that。　Except　falling；　of　course。　And　at　least　that's　faster。〃　
　Nora　began　to　pick　her　way　down　the　steep　trail。　The　first　part；　all　slickrock；　not　surprisingly　showed　no　signs　of　the　mysterious　rider。　But　when　she　reached　the　rock　strewn　part　of　the　trail；　she　stopped：　there；　in　a　small　patch　of　sand；　was　a　fresh　hoofprint。　And　it　was　from　an　unshod　horse。　
　〃Are　we　going　down？〃　Smithback　asked　with　a　distinct　lack　of　enthusiasm　as　she　returned　to　the　top　of　the　ridge。