Blood of the Prodigal. P. L. Gaus
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Название: Blood of the Prodigal
Автор: P. L. Gaus
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
Серия: Amish Country Mysteries
isbn: 9780821440605
isbn:
“Thank you,” Enos said, “but I have lunch in the buggy.”
Branden followed Coblentz to a black one-seater parked beside the corral. It was of the classic Ohio style, the sides slanting in at the bottom to meet oval springs. Branden noticed the rubber-padded rims on the wheels and tapped at them, not thinking anything in particular, but aware nonetheless of their significance. Coblentz was not Old Order. At least not conservative Old Order. Surely not from Eli Miller’s district.
Coblentz eyed the professor and then said, almost grinning, “Can you think of a reason why a buggy shouldn’t be comfortable?” Then he lifted a black metal lunch pail from the buggy and ambled to the picnic table under the shade of a willow. A push mower leaned against the trunk of the tree. A quiet stream lapped past the exposed roots of the willow. Branches mingled lazily into the water and gave the small glade a peaceful, easy quietness, the saw having been stopped for lunch.
“I’ve been at it all morning,” Branden said, “and you’re the first person who’s been willing to talk much about Jonah Miller.”
“I’m not surprised,” Coblentz said while unwrapping the wax paper on his first sandwich.
“Can you tell me about the ban?” Branden asked.
“What’s to tell?” Coblentz remarked. “Jonah asked for it.”
“Then can you tell me what actually precipitated the ban?” Branden said.
“Pride.”
“How so?”
“Like I said. Jonah took to fancy dress. He was admonished. Everyone knew it.”
“Yes, but what else?” Branden instantly regretted his impatient tone.
Coblentz ate slowly. The tranquillity in his eyes gradually gave way to an expression of rising inner turmoil. “It was a long time ago,” he said eventually. “I can’t recall everything that happened, but the way I see it, the ban actually started most of Jonah’s problems.”
He glanced into the corral and said, “See the bay? How she trembles there, standing? She don’t like people much. Mostly just likes to run. Too spirited for her own good. That’s the way Jonah was.”
Coblentz fell silent again, and Branden waited, standing at ease beside the rough-cut picnic table, watching as Coblentz ran the puzzle of Jonah Miller through his mind. A breeze pushed delicate branches of the willow into Branden’s hair, and he absently brushed the slender leaves aside.
Coblentz laid his sandwich down on the smoothed-out square of wax paper and stared unseeing at the cluster of standardbred horses and a single Morgan in the corral.
“I do not think Jonah was really so bad,” Coblentz said. “First it was only simple matters, but in Miller’s district, any indiscretion was invariably handled decisively. Chastised for small mischief, there. Do you realize, Professor, that I am not Old Order?”
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