Читать книгу Shaman's Dream: The Modoc War - Lu Boone's Mattson - Страница 28

Now they were finished, but it had taken longer than he thought it would. At first they wouldn’t touch the food that had come down in big pots and parcels all the way from Linkville. Then Toby picked up a metal plate and shoved it into Knapp’s hands.

“Go first,” she said to him, handing another plate to Meacham.

“I don’t want that slop,” the agent said.

“Never mind about that: just do it.” She reached into the pot and spooned out stew for both of them. Meacham understood and took a piece of the bread to sop up the gravy, then went to sit on the ground where he meant for the circle to form.

“Come on,” he said to Knapp. “Dig in.”

He attacked the meal with as much gusto as he could, smacking his lips, mopping at the juices when the thick hunks of beef were gone until no morsel was left. He reached for the can of coffee. He drank it in great gulps, blowing on it to clear away the steam after he had loaded it with sugar.

He leaned back, patting his middle, looking as satisfied as he knew how to. All the Modocs stood transfixed, watching their hosts to detect any sign.

“Now all come and have some meat,” he said to Jack as he finished and turned his bowl over onto the dried grass before him. “You and your people. Join in.”

Eventually, satisfied there had been no coyote poison this time, the Modocs let the drovers hand them plates heaped with stew and covered with thick slabs of bread. Meacham would let them eat until the last one declared himself full; then he would pass around the tobacco he had brought for each man to keep. Loading up his own pipe, he lit it and offered it first to Jack. This time Jack took it.