按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
h； inprehensible。 He was grasped firmly； his head pulled back。 A flash of a steel knife against the dust； a scream。 A piece of flesh tossed aside。 The Indians worked on the man's head； arms making short sharp movements as if carving a piece of wood； the screams became hysterical； choked。 More red pieces discarded。 Another wet ripping sound； more protracted than the others。 Another scream。 Two final movements； two more pieces dropping to the ground。 Another； shorter scream。
And then； with ropes and poles hooked to their saddles； the Indians were dragging their dead horses away into the curtains of dust； heaping their dead warriors on travois and dragging them away as well。 In less than a minute； they had disappeared pletely into the dust from which they came。
Only one man was left； staggering through the dust； crying。 Harry Beaumont。 He dropped to his knees at the center of the mounds。 He had no face left： no nose； lips； ears； or scalp。 Just an oval of raw； red meat where his features had once been。
Rounded。
He rocked on his knees； head drooping； the blood pooling around his ruined jaws and chin and dripping into the ground。 A dark hole opened in the bloody oval and a shriek arose：
Thon of a bith I curth thith groun I curth thith groun may it forever be damned may it rain blood for my blood guth for my guth damn thith evil groun…
He fell slowly； gargling and twitching in the bloody dust。
As the wind abated； as the dust settled and vision slowly returned； nothing remained but dead white men。 The Cheyenne dead； the dead horses； all were gone。 Only the endless grass now； stretching from horizon to horizon。 And then a lone figure could be seen rising from a brushy fold in the earth a hundred yards downhill…a boy； previously hidden； who now staggered up in terror and ran across the empty prairie； his little figure fading into the orange glow of the horizon until he could be seen no more。
And then； silence。
Corrie jumped as Pendergast's eyes flew open； silvery and luminous in the twilight。 The hour was up； and she had been about to rouse him。 She'd almost woken him earlier； when the birdsong suddenly stopped； but within a minute or two it had resumed and her anxiety had faded。 She stood； unsure for a moment what to say。 It was now dark under the trees and the muggy night air was filled with the sound of rasping insects。
〃Are you all right？〃 she finally asked。
Pendergast rose； brushing the leaves； dust； and grass off his coat and pants。 His face looked drawn； almost as if he was ill。
〃I am fine； thank you；〃 he answered。 His voice was toneless。
Corrie hesitated。 She desperately wanted to know what he had seen or discovered； but she found herself afraid to ask。
Pendergast checked his watch。 〃Eight o'clock。〃
He swiftly collected his documents； papers； and notes； and began striding down the track toward the car。 She followed； stumbling in her effort to keep up。 He was already in the passenger seat； waiting； when she reached her own door and fumbled in the twilight with the handle。
〃Please take me back to the Kraus place； Miss Swanson。〃
〃Right。 Okay。〃
The car engine turned over； turned again； rattled and shook into life。 She turned on the headlights and crept back down the bumpy track。
After a few minutes； she couldn't stand it anymore。 〃Well？〃 she asked。 〃How'd it go？〃
Pendergast's eyes turned to her； glistening strangely in the night。
〃I saw the impossible；〃 was all he said。
Thirty…Nine
The light faded and twilight crept into the air。 The silent leaves disclosed； in the open area between the mounds； infrequent glimpses of the man and the girl。 They had been talking； their low voices a murmur at this distance； but now there was only silence。 The man had lain down and the girl was now sitting on a rock maybe twenty yards away； once in a while getting up to look around。 The light had died in the west and only a faint glow lay over the landscape； rapidly turning to night。
The cornfields； dark and still； stretched out beyond the copse of trees。 A star had appeared。 From his place of concealment； the watcher looked for another star； found it。 Then another； and another。
His eyes turned back to the figure on the ground。 What in the world was Pendergast doing？ Lying there； silently； like a corpse。 Two hours had passed…two hours； wasted。 It was well after seven o'clock。 And now thatGlobe reporter； Joe Rickey； was soon going to be ing up against his deadline。 Not to mention Ludwig's own deadline for the next edition of theCourier。 Was this some kind of psychic crap？ New Age munication with the spirits？ Perhaps therewas a story here after all； only it wasn't the story he was after。 Still； it was the only story around； and he wasn't going to move until he saw it through。
Smit Ludwig shifted his cramped limbs； yawned。 The night crickets stopped chirping at the movement； then resumed： a peaceful； familiar sound。 The whole landscape was familiar to him。 He had spent his boyhood up at these mounds； playing Cowboys and Indians with his brother or swimming down in the creek。 They'd even camped up here a couple of times。 The tale of Harry Beaumont and the Forty…Fives； the fact that the Mounds had a sinister reputation； only added to the boyish sense of adventure。 He could remember one night in August； camped here； watching the shooting stars。 They'd counted to a hundred and then quit。 His brother had left Medicine Creek； was now a retired grandfather in Leisure； Arizona。 That was a different era back then。 Mothers never thought twice about letting their kids run off and play all day long out of sight。 Today it was different。 The ugly modern world had e to Medicine Creek； bit by bit。 And now； these killings。 A part of him was glad Sarah hadn't lived to see this。 Even if they found the killer； the town would never be the same。
Ludwig peered again through the gloaming。 Pendergast was still lying on the ground； totally motionless。 Even a sleeping person shifted once in a while。 And nobody slept like that； perfectly straight； legs together； hands folded on the chest。 Christ； he was still wearing his shoes。 It was very bizarre。
He cursed under his breath。 Should he just stand up and interrupt them； ask them what was going on？ But somehow he couldn't do that。 He'd waited this long； he'd wait to see what happened when…
Abruptly； he saw Pendergast rise and dust himself off。 Ludwig quickly shrank back into the deepest shadows。 There was a murmuring of voices； then without further ado the two started walking back toward their car。
Ludwig swore again bitterly。 It had been utter folly to follow Corrie： a self…delusion； born of an attempt to help a cub reporter and to find his own new angle on the story。 Now the story was gone； the kid would be in trouble； and next day'sCourier would be left high and dry。
He waited for them to leave； bitterness continuing to rise。 What was the hurry？ There was no story to write up； nobody to go home to。 He might as well just sit here all night。 Nobody would miss him or his paper 。 。 。
But Ludwig's tolerance for self…pity was limited； and before long he； too； had risen。 He'd hidden his car well behind Corrie's； down the road and in the