Read Online The Ghosts of Anatolia by Steven E. Wilson - Free Book Online

Sabriye,” he said, motioning toward the older of the two boys. He was a muscular youth with his father’s bushy brows, prominent nose and dark complexion. He looked to be in his late teens.
    Mourad acknowledged the young man with a nod. “Timurhan,” he said.
    Pasha nodded toward the younger rider—a frail, light-complexioned boy. “And my son, Erol, born of my second wife, Jasmine.”
    “Erol,” Mourad muttered, glancing at the youngster.
    The boy nodded shyly and looked away toward the field.
    “Is there something I can do for you, Abdul?” Mourad asked. “I have work to do.”
    “Bedros told me your son got bitten by a viper. I’ve come to see if there’s anything we can do to help.”
    “Thank you for your concern, but Sirak’s doing fine now. Fortunately, it was a dry bite.”
    “
Allahu Akbar
,” Pasha uttered. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm and glanced at the blistering sun. “Cursed serpents. I lost my best farmhand to a viper during the peak of harvest last year. He was dead in fifteen minutes, and there wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do about it.”
    “I’m sorry to hear this,” Mourad said. He glanced toward the field where Kemal and the boys were hard at work. “Well, thank you for your courtesy, but I must get back to work. I want to finish the picking before we lose the sunlight.”
    Pasha turned and gazed across the field. “It looks like you’ve been blessed with an abundant crop. Is that Kemal Sufyan?”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “Kemal’s a hard worker—at times overly blunt, but capable. I sought him out to direct my harvest, but the idiot refused my offer of two thousand
liras
. Well, I may as well get to the point. I’ve come to make another offer for your land.”
    “I’ve told you, Abdul, it’s not for sale. I discussed it again with my brother and we are in agreement.”
    “You’ve yet to hear my best offer.”
    “It doesn’t matter how much you offer. I’m not selling the farm.”
    “Your family would be much safer in Istanbul, Kazerian. You know, where your brother enjoys certain influence and...”
    “We’re not leaving Diyarbekir,” Mourad growled impatiently.
    “Anything could happen here if war...”
    “You’re wasting your time. If we do decide to sell, it won’t be to you. That’s a promise I made my father on his deathbed, and I intend to keep it. Isn’t it enough that your father managed to pilfer the other two thirds of our land?”
    “That stubborn old goat never did have a bit of sense,” Pasha retorted. “I thought you might have more, but clearly I was mistaken.”
    “You’re the last one to be talking about common sense,” Mourad bristled, his face flushing red with anger. “If you hadn’t cheated Todori outof a good portion of his wages, you wouldn’t need Kemal Sufyan’s help bringing in your harvest. And on top of that, you spread lies to try to convince the other farmers not to hire Kemal after he declined your job offer. We’re not selling, and that’s the end of it.”
    “We’ll see,” Pasha growled menacingly. He pulled himself up onto his horse and jerked the reins. “Let’s get the hell away from these infidels,” he muttered beneath his breath. He slapped the reins against his horse’s flank and galloped off toward the road. The horses kicked up a cloud of dust and disappeared over the ridge.
    Mourad turned, and shaking his head with disgust, marched back toward the field.
    Several weeks later
    Sirak walked gingerly across the barnyard under the watchful eye of his father. He stepped across a rut and headed for the corral. On the horizon, the last rays of the late-afternoon sun danced across the underside of a distant bank of purple and scarlet clouds. Sirak reached the fence ahead of his father and peered excitedly across the pasture. Tiran was standing a short distance from his mother on the opposite side of the corral.
    “Tiran!” Sirak yelled out elatedly.
    The chestnut and white