Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter VII
OneofthesurgeonswhohadbeencalledfromBonnevillestoodcloseby,watchingHarran’sface,hisarmsfolded.
“Howishe?”Presleywhispered.
“Hewon’tlive,”theotherresponded.
Bydegreesthechokeandgurgleofthebreathingbecamemoreirregularandthelidsclosedoverthetwitchingeyes.Allatoncethebreathceased.Magnusshotaninquiringglanceatthesurgeon.
“Heisdead,Mr.Derrick,”thesurgeonreplied.
AnnieDerrick,withacrythatrangthroughallthehouse,stretchedherselfoverthebodyofherson,herheaduponhisbreast,andtheGovernor’sgreatshouldersbowednevertoriseagain.
“Godhelpmeandforgiveme,”hegroaned.
Presleyrushedfromthehouse,besidehimselfwithgrief,withhorror,withpity,andwithmad,insensaterage.OntheporchoutsideCarahermethim.
“Ishe—ishe—”beganthesaloon-keeper.
“Yes,he’sdead,”criedPresley.“They’realldead,murdered,shotdown,dead,dead,allofthem.Whoseturnisnext?”
“That’sthewaytheykilledmywife,Presley.”
“Caraher,”criedPresley,“givemeyourhand.I’vebeenwrongallthetime.TheLeagueiswrong.Alltheworldiswrong.Youaretheonlyoneofusallwhoisright.I’mwithyoufromnowon.BYGOD,ITOO,I’MARED!”
Incourseoftime,afarmwagonfromBonnevillearrivedatHooven’s.ThebodiesofAnnixterandHarranwereplacedinit,anditdrovedowntheLowerRoadtowardstheLosMuertosranchhouses.
ThebodiesofDelaneyandChristianhadalreadybeencarriedtoGuadalajaraandthencetakenbytraintoBonneville.
