Read Online The Cowboy and the Cossack (Nancy Pearl's Book Lust Rediscoveries) by Clair Huffaker - Free Book Online
Authors: Clair Huffaker
Ads: Link
struck me as strange that he walked with that same cougar’s grace and controlled strength that was in all of Shad’s movements.
“Christ!” Slim muttered. “It looks like we’re gonna have t’ swim back to Seattle!”
The big cossack said something to Yakolev in a voice that sounded like a bear growling when he hasn’t decided whether he’s mad or not. They started talking, with the cossack asking short questions and Yakolev answering a little uncertainly. A couple of us looked at Old Keats, wondering what they were talking about, but he wasn’t able to keep up with them and just shrugged his shoulders.
As they spoke, Shad reached over to a box of cooking matches on a pile of gear and took one, striking it on his thumbnail to light his now-built cigarette. Yakolev was startled by the sudden spurt of flame from Shad’s hand and stopped halfway through some answer or another.
“Whatever you two fellas are talkin’ about,” Shad told Yakolev, lighting up his smoke and tossing away the match, “tell your fancy friend that come hell or high water, we’re movin’ out right after breakfast.”
“You’re moving out before breakfast,” the big cossack said.
Shad’s reaction was a difficult thing to paint. The rest of us damnere fell down. But Shad looked, for a moment, like he had the night before when he drank the glass of white whiskey.In both cases he’d bitten off quite a bit, but he sure as hell was going to chew it.
He frowned slightly. “You talk American.”
“Probably better than you do,” the big cossack growled.
Shad’s voice got harder. “In that case, you know what ‘fuck you’ means.”
There was a silence as the two men stared at each other, both of them looking like something over six feet of solid granite.
“Now wait,” Yakolev finally said with nervous anger. “I am Harbor Master here! First there are matters of import duties, taxes and other expenses!”
The cossack glared at Yakolev. “You have been paid.”
Some of us glanced at each other, wondering who was on whose side.
“No!” Yakolev struggled to take a small brown cigar from one of his pockets. “And remember, I have forty soldiers here who represent the Tzar!”
“Ah?” the cossack growled thoughtfully. “Forty soldiers? And we are only sixteen cossacks?” He smiled, his powerful white teeth flashing briefly. “Perhaps, then—you have really not been paid in full.”
Yakolev nodded, gaining courage from these words, and put the cigar in his mouth so that it jutted out arrogantly. The cossack reached for the box of cooking matches, obviously intending to light the cigar, and Yakolev now said confidently, “I must to have three dollars per each one of the beasts.”
“Like hell,” Shad said in a dangerous tone.
The cossack lifted the box of matches and struck one of them on the side of the box. With the box in one hand and the flaming match in the other, he extended his hands toward Yakolev’s cigar. He lighted the cigar as Yakolev puffed contentedly, and then he touched the still-burning match into the box, which was just under Yakolev’s chin.
That one burning match suddenly ignited all the others and searing flames hissed up against and around his face as Yakolevscreamed and dropped to his knees, frantically slapping whatever beard he’d had and his thick, burning eyebrows and hair.
Then, as Yakolev was crouched down with shaking hands clasped over his singed face, the big cossack growled, “Now you have been paid in full.”
Then he turned and thundered something in Russian to his men and they roared with laughter as they whipped out their swords and started forward.
But by that time Yakolev’s forty men weren’t taking anything too funny. Every one of them suddenly looked even more scared than I felt. Two of them came up in a big hurry and grabbed the whimpering Yakolev and boosted him onto his horse. Then they all rode away, making a lot better time going than when they’d
“Christ!” Slim muttered. “It looks like we’re gonna have t’ swim back to Seattle!”
The big cossack said something to Yakolev in a voice that sounded like a bear growling when he hasn’t decided whether he’s mad or not. They started talking, with the cossack asking short questions and Yakolev answering a little uncertainly. A couple of us looked at Old Keats, wondering what they were talking about, but he wasn’t able to keep up with them and just shrugged his shoulders.
As they spoke, Shad reached over to a box of cooking matches on a pile of gear and took one, striking it on his thumbnail to light his now-built cigarette. Yakolev was startled by the sudden spurt of flame from Shad’s hand and stopped halfway through some answer or another.
“Whatever you two fellas are talkin’ about,” Shad told Yakolev, lighting up his smoke and tossing away the match, “tell your fancy friend that come hell or high water, we’re movin’ out right after breakfast.”
“You’re moving out before breakfast,” the big cossack said.
Shad’s reaction was a difficult thing to paint. The rest of us damnere fell down. But Shad looked, for a moment, like he had the night before when he drank the glass of white whiskey.In both cases he’d bitten off quite a bit, but he sure as hell was going to chew it.
He frowned slightly. “You talk American.”
“Probably better than you do,” the big cossack growled.
Shad’s voice got harder. “In that case, you know what ‘fuck you’ means.”
There was a silence as the two men stared at each other, both of them looking like something over six feet of solid granite.
“Now wait,” Yakolev finally said with nervous anger. “I am Harbor Master here! First there are matters of import duties, taxes and other expenses!”
The cossack glared at Yakolev. “You have been paid.”
Some of us glanced at each other, wondering who was on whose side.
“No!” Yakolev struggled to take a small brown cigar from one of his pockets. “And remember, I have forty soldiers here who represent the Tzar!”
“Ah?” the cossack growled thoughtfully. “Forty soldiers? And we are only sixteen cossacks?” He smiled, his powerful white teeth flashing briefly. “Perhaps, then—you have really not been paid in full.”
Yakolev nodded, gaining courage from these words, and put the cigar in his mouth so that it jutted out arrogantly. The cossack reached for the box of cooking matches, obviously intending to light the cigar, and Yakolev now said confidently, “I must to have three dollars per each one of the beasts.”
“Like hell,” Shad said in a dangerous tone.
The cossack lifted the box of matches and struck one of them on the side of the box. With the box in one hand and the flaming match in the other, he extended his hands toward Yakolev’s cigar. He lighted the cigar as Yakolev puffed contentedly, and then he touched the still-burning match into the box, which was just under Yakolev’s chin.
That one burning match suddenly ignited all the others and searing flames hissed up against and around his face as Yakolevscreamed and dropped to his knees, frantically slapping whatever beard he’d had and his thick, burning eyebrows and hair.
Then, as Yakolev was crouched down with shaking hands clasped over his singed face, the big cossack growled, “Now you have been paid in full.”
Then he turned and thundered something in Russian to his men and they roared with laughter as they whipped out their swords and started forward.
But by that time Yakolev’s forty men weren’t taking anything too funny. Every one of them suddenly looked even more scared than I felt. Two of them came up in a big hurry and grabbed the whimpering Yakolev and boosted him onto his horse. Then they all rode away, making a lot better time going than when they’d
Similar Books
