JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 139 из 244At least six people had eaten at the table, suggesting that Loup and his men had left very recently. "Look round the rest of the village, Pat," Sharpe told Harper. "Take half a dozen men and go carefully. I reckon everyone's gone, but you never know."
"I'll take care, sir, so I will." Harper took the riflemen out of the kitchen leaving Sharpe alone with Juanita.
Sharpe gestured at a chair. "Let's talk, my lady."
She walked with a slow dignity to the far side of the table, put a hand on the chair back, then suddenly broke away and ran for a door across the room. "Go to hell," was her parting injunction. Sharpe was encumbered by the furniture so that by the time he reached the door she was already halfway up a dark flight of stairs. He scrambled after her. She turned right at the stairhead and ran through a door that she slammed behind her. Sharpe kicked it a split second before it would have latched and hurled himself through the opening to see, in the moonlight, that Juanita was sprawled across a bed. She was struggling to free an object from a discarded valise then, as Sharpe crossed the room, she turned with a pistol in her hand. He threw himself at her, slamming his left hand at the pistol just as she pulled the trigger. The bullet cracked into the ceiling as he landed full on her. She gasped from the impact, then tried to claw at his eyes with her free hand.
Sharpe rolled off her, stood and backed to the window. He was panting. His left wrist hurt from the impact of striking the pistol aside. The moonlight came past him to silver the haze of pistol smoke and to shine on the bed that was nothing but a raft of straw-filled mattresses on which a jumble of pelts provided the covers. Juanita half sat up, glared at him, then seemed to realize that her defiance had run its course. She let out a disgruntled sigh and collapsed back onto the furs.
Dan Hagman had heard the pistol shot from the courtyard and now came pounding up the stairs and into the bedroom with his rifle levelled. He looked from the woman prone on the bed to Sharpe. "Are you all right, sir?"
"Just a disagreement, Dan. No one hurt."
Hagman looked back at Juanita. "A right little spitfire, sir," he said admiringly. "She probably needs a spanking."
"I'll look after her, Dan. You get those panniers off the mule. Let's see what the spitfire was taking away, eh?"
Hagman went back downstairs. Sharpe massaged his wrist and looked about the room. It was a large high-ceilinged chamber with dark wood panelling, thick ceiling beams, a fireplace and a heavy linen press in one corner.
"I'll take care, sir, so I will." Harper took the riflemen out of the kitchen leaving Sharpe alone with Juanita.
Sharpe gestured at a chair. "Let's talk, my lady."
She walked with a slow dignity to the far side of the table, put a hand on the chair back, then suddenly broke away and ran for a door across the room. "Go to hell," was her parting injunction. Sharpe was encumbered by the furniture so that by the time he reached the door she was already halfway up a dark flight of stairs. He scrambled after her. She turned right at the stairhead and ran through a door that she slammed behind her. Sharpe kicked it a split second before it would have latched and hurled himself through the opening to see, in the moonlight, that Juanita was sprawled across a bed. She was struggling to free an object from a discarded valise then, as Sharpe crossed the room, she turned with a pistol in her hand. He threw himself at her, slamming his left hand at the pistol just as she pulled the trigger. The bullet cracked into the ceiling as he landed full on her. She gasped from the impact, then tried to claw at his eyes with her free hand.
Sharpe rolled off her, stood and backed to the window. He was panting. His left wrist hurt from the impact of striking the pistol aside. The moonlight came past him to silver the haze of pistol smoke and to shine on the bed that was nothing but a raft of straw-filled mattresses on which a jumble of pelts provided the covers. Juanita half sat up, glared at him, then seemed to realize that her defiance had run its course. She let out a disgruntled sigh and collapsed back onto the furs.
Dan Hagman had heard the pistol shot from the courtyard and now came pounding up the stairs and into the bedroom with his rifle levelled. He looked from the woman prone on the bed to Sharpe. "Are you all right, sir?"
"Just a disagreement, Dan. No one hurt."
Hagman looked back at Juanita. "A right little spitfire, sir," he said admiringly. "She probably needs a spanking."
"I'll look after her, Dan. You get those panniers off the mule. Let's see what the spitfire was taking away, eh?"
Hagman went back downstairs. Sharpe massaged his wrist and looked about the room. It was a large high-ceilinged chamber with dark wood panelling, thick ceiling beams, a fireplace and a heavy linen press in one corner.