p&c.thunderhead-第53节

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r　day。　And　obviously；　people　got　into　the　outer　valley　on　horseback　last　night。　There's　no　other　way　in　save　over　the　ridge。　I'll　bet　they　used　unshod　horses。〃　
　〃Unshod？〃　Smithback　asked。　
　Nora　nodded。　〃A　horse　without　shoes　would　have　surer　footing　on　a　narrow　trail　like　the　Devil's　Backbone。　Iron　on　stone　is　like　a　skater　on　ice。　But　the　keratin　of　a　horse's　hoof　would　grip　the　stone。〃　
　Swire　was　still　staring　at　her。　〃I'm　not　letting　my　horses　get　their　hooves　all　chewed　up　out　in　that　bad　country。〃　
　〃We'd　tack　the　shoes　back　on　once　we　get　to　the　bottom　of　the　ridge。　You've　got　farrier's　tools；　don't　you？〃　
　Swire　nodded　slowly。　
　〃All　I'm　going　to　do；〃　she　continued；　〃is　try　to　find　out　who　did　this；　and　why。　We　can　let　the　law　take　care　of　it　when　we　get　back　to　civilization。〃　
　〃That's　just　what　I'm　afraid　of；〃　said　Swire。　
　〃Do　you　want　to　spend　the　rest　of　your　life　in　prison　for　murder？〃　Nora　asked。　〃Because　that's　exactly　what　will　happen　if　you　go　out　there　and　shoot　somebody。〃　
　Swire　did　not　reply。　Wordlessly；　the　cook　turned　on　his　heel　and　entered　his　tent。　A　moment　later；　he　emerged　with　his　weapon；　a　box　of　bullets；　and　a　leather　holster。　He　handed　them　to　Nora。　Strapping　the　holster　around　her　waist；　Nora　opened　the　heavy　gun；　spun　the　cylinder；　and　closed　it　again。　Ripping　the　top　off　the　box　of　bullets；　she　poured　its　contents　into　one　hand　and　rapidly　shoved　them　into　the　bullet　loops。　Then　she　dropped　the　empty　box　into　the　fire　and　turned　toward　Swire。　
　〃We'll　take　care　of　it；〃　she　said　evenly。　
　
　
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　SKIP　PAUSED　AT　THE　METAL　DOOR　TO　ELMO'S　Auto　Shoppe；　pausing　a　moment　to　build　up　a　full　head　of　righteous　indignation。　The　metal；　quonset…hut　garage　lay　baking　in　the　heat　at　the　long　sad　end　of　Cerrillos　Road；　an　ugly　strip　of　fast…food　restaurants；　used　automobile　dealerships；　and　malls　south　of　town。　Beyond　Elmo's　stretched　nothing　but　bulldozed　flat　prairie；　decorated　with　billboards；　FOR　LEASE　and　WILL　BUILD　TO　SUIT　signs…the　expanding　edge　of　Santa　Fe's　uncontrolled　growth。　
　Skip　set　the　expression　on　his　face　and　pushed　through　the　door；　pulling　Teddy　Bear　behind　him　on　a　short；　thick　leather　leash。　In　the　farthest　bay；　perched　high　atop　the　hydraulic　lift；　sat　his　Fury；　tires　drooping　mournfully。　It　was　a　great　deal　sandier　than　it　had　been　the　day　before。　
　Beneath　it　stood　the　proprietor　of　Elmo's　Auto　Shoppe；　a　tall；　gangly　man　in　faded　dungarees　and　torn　T…shirt。　The　shirt　was　liberally　stained　with　oil；　and　it　sported　an　oversized　Rolling　Stones　tongue；　jutting　salaciously　from　dewlap　lips。　The　shirt　formed　an　appropriate　reflection　of　Elmo's　own　pendulous　lips　and　doleful　expression。　
　〃Why'd　you　have　to　bring　that　with　you？〃　Elmo　whined；　nodding　at　the　dog。　〃I'm　allergic　to　dog　hair。〃　
　Skip　opened　his　mouth　to　deliver　his　speech　and　Elmo　raised　his　clipboard　in　protest。　〃Broken　rocker　assembly；〃　he　began　quickly；　licking　a　long；　grease…sodden　finger　and　folding　the　pages　on　his　clipboard　back　as　he　spoke。　〃Emergency　brake　trashed。　Hub　bent。　You're　looking　at；　oh；　five；　six　hundred　at　least。　Plus　the　tow　from　the　third　fairway。〃　
　〃Like　hell　I　am！〃　Skip　dragged　Teddy　Bear　forward　and　paced　angrily　in　the　shadow　of　his　car；　forgetting　his　carefully　crafted　speech。　〃I　had　this　in　here　for　an　oil　change　and　tuneup　just　three　weeks　ago。　Why　the　hell　didn't　you　tell　me　the　brakes　were　going？〃　
　Elmo　turned　his　lachrymose　face　toward　Skip。　His　droopy　eyes　always　looked　on　the　verge　of　weeping。　〃I　checked　that　invoice　already。　There　was　nothing　wrong　with　the　brakes。〃　
　〃That's　bullshit。〃　Skip　glanced　at　the　mechanic　in　disbelief。　He　so　rarely　bothered　to　pay　for　car　servicing　that　now；　having　shelled　out　fifty…seven　dollars　just　a　few　weeks　before；　his　righteous　indignation　knew　no　bounds。　〃I　tell　you；　I　had　zero　brakes　left。　Zero。　I　might　as　well　have　tried　to　use　a　kickstand。　I　could　have　been　killed。　And　now　you　want　me　to　pay　for　the　privilege？　Yeah；　right。〃　
　〃The　brake　system　was　dry　as　a　bone；〃　said　Elmo；　doggedly；　looking　at　the　floor。　
　〃See？〃　Skip　slapped　a　balled　fist　against　his　palm。　〃That　proves　it。　You　should　have　seen　that　leak　when　the　car　was　here　before。　I'm　not　going　to　pay　for…〃　
　〃But　there　ain't　no　leak。〃　
　Skip　halted　in　mid…rant。　〃Huh？〃　
　Elmo　shrugged；　his　eyes　rolling　toward　Skip。　〃We　pressure…tested　the　brake　system。　There's　no　leak；　no　sprung　seal；　nothing。〃　
　Skip　stared　at　Elmo。　〃That　doesn't　make　sense。〃　
　Elmo　shrugged　again。　〃Besides；　there　would　have　been　signs　of　a　leak。　Look　at　that。〃　He　grabbed　a　basket　lamp　and　pointed　it　up　at　the　Fury。　
　〃It's　the　underside　of　a　car。　It's　sandy　and　greasy。　So　what？〃　
　〃But　none　of　that's　brake　fluid。　No　drips；　no　spray　marks。　Nothing　to　show　any　leak　at　all。　Where　do　you　park　it　regularly？〃　
　〃In　my　driveway；　of　course…〃　
　〃You　see　a　big　stain　on　the　ground　lately？〃　
　〃Nothing　I　noticed。〃　
　Elmo　looked　down　again；　nodding　sagely；　his　big　ears　wagging。　
　Skip　started　to　retort；　then　stopped；　mouth　open。　〃What　are　you　saying？〃　he　said　at　last。　
　〃I　ain't　saying　nothing。　Your　brakes　were　drained　clean。〃　Elmo's　rubbery　lips　twisted　into　what　might　have　been　a　smile；　and　he　licked　at　them　with　a　red　tongue。　〃Got　any　enemies？〃　
　Skip　scoffed。　〃That's　crazy。　No；　I　。　。　。〃　He　paused　a　moment　thinking。　〃You　mean；　somebody　could've　drained　them？　Deliberately？〃　
　Elmo　nodded　again；　and　inserted　a　finger　into　one　ear；　giving　it　a　few　hard　twists。　〃Only　problem　is　the　brake　fluid　cap　was　rusted　shut；　so's　how　it　got　drained　is　kind　of　problematical。〃　
　But　Skip　was　still　thinking。　〃No；〃　he　repeated　at　last　in　a　softer　voice。　〃The　brakes　were　working　fine　one　minute；　gone　the　next。〃　He　glanced　at　his　watch；　irritation　once　again　welling　up　within　him。　〃I'm　late　for　work。　I've　got　this　boss　who　rips　the　balls　off　people　who　are　late。　And　on　top　of　everything　else；　you　give　me　this…〃　He　gestured　at　Elmo's　loaner　car；　an　ancient　Volkswagen　Beetle　with　a　crumpled　rear　fender　and　doors　of　mismatched　colors。　〃I'd　rather　drive　my　own；　even　without　brakes。〃　
　Elmo　worked　his　shoulders　through　their　perpetual　shrug。　〃It'll　be　ready　by　five　P。M。　Friday。〃　
　〃And　rework　that　bill　while　you're　reworking　the　car；〃　Skip　replied。　〃There's　no　way　I'm　paying　six　hundred　for　somebody　else's　negligence。〃　With　effort；　he　stuffed　Teddy　Bear　into　the　Beetle；　then　lowered　himself　gingerly　into　the　driver's　seat　and　cranked　the　engine。　
　He　eased　into　first　and　chugged　noisily　out　into　traffic；　pointing　the　car's　snout　down　the　strip　that　eventually　would　bring　him　back　to　town；　the　Institute；　and　the　waiting　Sonya　Rowling。　He　could　feel　a　headache　ing　on；　faint　for　the　moment　but　getting　stronger。　It　seemed　to　encircle　his　temples；　like　a　headband。　Despite　his　bluster；　he　felt　profoundly　disturbed；　and　his　heart　raced　as　he　worked　his　way　up　through　the　gears。　For　a　minute；　he　thought　of　heading　back　out　to　Teresa's；　checking　the　ground　where　he'd　parked　the　car　for　a　puddle　of　fluid。　But　even　as　the　thought　came　to　him；　he　knew　he　never　wanted　to　see　the　place　again。　
　Then；　on　impulse；　he　pulled　the　car　onto　the　shoulder　and　slipped　the　gearshift　into　neutral。　Something　about　this　didn't　seem　right；　at　all。　And　it　wasn't　just　the　bizarre　circumstances；　either；　the　moment　Elmo　had　mentioned　enemies；　a　sudden　chill　had　enveloped　Skip。　
　He　sat　on　the　shoulder；　thinking。　Vaguely；　very　vaguely；　he　remembered　his　father；　sitting　at　the　dinner　table；　drinking　coffee　and　telling　him　a　story。　For　some　reason；　Skip　couldn't　remember　the　story。　But　he　remembered　his　mother　frowning；　telling　Skip's　dad　to　talk　about　something　else。　
　Something　else　。　。　。　there　was　something　else　that　had　happened　recently；　something　that　dovetailed　with　all　this　in　a　strange　and　awful　way。　
　Suddenly；　Skip　put　the　Volkswagen　into　gear　and；　with　a　quick　glance　over　his　shoulder；　urged　the　car　back　into　traffic。　But　instead　of　heading　toward　the　Institute；　he　peeled　off　at　the　next　corner　and　began　threading　his　way　through　a　maze　of　seedy　side　streets；　urging　the　old　car　forward；　cursing　it；　his　fingers　drumming　impatiently　on　the　wheel。　
　Pulling　up　at　last　in　front　of　his　apartment；　he　half　ran；　half　leaped　up　the　flight　of　stairs；　dragging　Teddy　Bear　behind　him；　fumbling　with　his　keychain　and　unlocking　both　locks　as　quickly　as　he　could。　
　Inside；　the　apartment　smelled　of　unwashed　socks　and　ancient　half…eaten　meals。　Jerking　the　chain　of　an　overhead　light；　Skip　made　a　beeline　to　the　cinderblock…and…plywood　bookshelf　that　leaned　precariously　against　a　far　wall。　Kneeling　in　front　of　the　lowest　row；　his　finger　traced　across　the　old　spines　of　the　books　that　had　been　his　father's；　the　faded　titles　etched　faintly　in　lines　of　dust。　
　Then　his　finger　stopped　on　a　thin；　battered　gray　book。　〃Skinwalkers；　Witches；　and　Curanderas：　Witchcraft　and　Sorcery　Practices　of　the　Southwest；〃　Skip　softly　breathed　the　title　aloud。　
　The　urgent　rush　that　had　propelled　him　back　to　the　apartment　was　now　replaced　by　hesitation　and　uncertainty。　There　was　terrible　and　hideous　knowledge　in　this　book；　he　recalled。　More　than　anything；　Skip　did　not　want　to　have　that　knowledge　confirm　the　fear　that　was　now　growing　inside　hi