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第57章

osc.am2.redprophet-第57章

小说: osc.am2.redprophet 字数: 每页4000字

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  〃You got to。〃
  〃Make it not hurt。〃
  〃Measure; I don't know how。 Not without making it so you can't move。 You just got to stand it。 Everything you get back in place; I can fix it; and then it won't hurt no more; but first you got to straighten it; you got to。〃
  〃You do it。〃
  〃I can't。〃
  〃Just reach out and do it; Alvin; you're big for ten; you can do it。〃
  〃I can't。〃
  〃I once cut your bone for you; to save your life; I once did that。〃
  〃Measure; I can't do it cause I ain't there。〃
  This made no sense to Measure。 So he knew he was dreaming。 Well; if he was dreaming; why didn't he e up with some dream where things didn't hurt so bad?
  〃Push on the bone; Measure。〃
  Alvin just wouldn't go away。 So Measure pushed; and it hurt him。 But Alvin was as good as his word。 Soon after; the place where he straightened out the bone didn't hurt no more。
  It took so long。 He was so tore up that it seemed there just wasn't no end to the pain。 But in between times; while Alvin was making things heal up where he just fixed the bones; Measure explained to Alvin what had happened to him; and Alvin told him what he knew; and pretty soon Measure understood that there was a lot more to this than saving the life of one young man in a root cellar。
  Finally; finally it was over。 Measure couldn't hardly believe it。 He had hurt so much for so many hours that it felt downright strange not to hurt anywhere。
  He heard the thump; thump of cannon firing。 〃Can you hear that; Alvin?〃 he asked。
  Alvin couldn't。
  〃The shooting's started。 The cannon。〃
  〃Then run; Measure。 Go as fast as you can。〃
  〃Alvin; I'm in a root cellar。 They barred the door。〃
  Alvin cussed with a couple of words that Measure didn't know the boy had ever heard。
  〃Alvin; I got me a hole half…dug here in the back。 You got such a knack with stone; I wondered if you could loosen things up for me here; so I could dig out real fast。〃
  And that's how it worked out。 Measure rolled himself into the hole and just closed his eyes and pawed at the dirt above his head。 It was nothing like digging the day before; rubbing his fingers raw on the dirt。 It just fell away; slid off him; when he reached up to dig more; the dirt slipped under his shoulders; and there it firmed right up; so that he didn't even have to think about moving the dirt out of the hole; it was just filling up underneath him。 He kicked; and his legs jostled the dirt loose; so his whole body was rising up the same way。
  Swimming through dirt; that's what I'm doing; he thought; and he started to laugh; it was so easy and so strange。
  His laugh was finished in the open air。 He was on top; just behind the root cellar。 The sky was pretty light  the sun would be up in just a minute or so。 The booming of the cannon had stopped。 Did that mean it was over; too late? Maybe; though; they were just letting the guns cool。 Or moving them to another place。 Or maybe the Reds even managed to capture the guns But would that be good news? Right or wrong; his brothers and his father were with them guns; and if the Reds won this battle; some of his kin might die。 It was one thing to know that the Reds were in the right and the Whites in the wrong; it was something else to wish defeat on your own family; defeat and maybe death。 He had to stop the battle; and so he ran; like he never done before。 Alvin's voice was gone; now; but Measure didn't need to be encouraged。 He fair to flew down that road。
  He met two people on the way。 One was Mrs。 Hatch; who was driving her wagon along the road; loaded down with supplies。 When she saw Measure; she screamed  he was wearing a loincloth and filthy as could be; and she couldn't be blamed for thinking he was a Red all set to scalp her。 She was off that wagon and running before Measure could so much as call her name。 Well; that was fine with him。 He nearly tore the horse from the wagon; he worked so fast; and then he was riding bareback; galloping along the road hoping that the horse wouldn't trip and spill him。
  The other person he met along the way was Armor…of…God。 Armor was kneeling in the middle of the mon green; out front of his store; praying his heart out while the cannon roared and the muskets crackled across the river。 Measure hailed him; and Armor looked up with a face like as if he'd seen Jesus resurrected。 〃Measure!〃 he shouted。 〃Stop; stop!〃
  Measure was all set to go on; to say he had no time; but then Armor was out in the middle of the way; and the horse was shy to go around him; so he did stop。 〃Measure; are you an angel or alive?〃
  〃Alive; no thanks to Harrison。 Tried to murder me; he did。 I'm alive and so is Alvin。 This whole thing was Harrison's doing; and I've got to put a stop to it。〃
  〃Well you can't go like that;〃 said Armor。 〃Wait; I said! You can't just show up wearing a loincloth and covered up with dirt like that; somebody's going to think you're a Red and shoot you on the spot!〃
  〃Then hop on this horse behind me; and give me your clothing on the way!〃
  So Measure hoisted Armor…of…God onto the horse behind him; and they rode out to the river crossing。
  Peter Ferryman's wife was there to run the winch。 One look at Measure was enough to tell her all she needed to know。 〃Hurry;〃 she said。 〃It's so bad; the river's running scarlet。〃
  On the ferry; Armor stripped off his clothes while Measure ducked himself in the water; blood and all; to wash some of the dirt away。 He didn't e out clean; but at least he looked somewhat like a White man。 Still wet; he put on Armor's shirt and trousers; and then his waistcoat。 They didn't fit too good; Armor being a smaller man; but Measure shrugged on the coat all the same。 While he did; he said; 〃Sorry to leave you with just your summerjohns。〃
  〃I'd stand naked half the day in front of all the ladies in church if it would stop this massacre;〃 said Armor。 If he said more; Measure didn't hear it; cause he was already on his way。
  
  ***
  
  Nothing was the way Alvin Miller Senior thought that it would be。 He'd imagined shooting his musket at the same screaming savages who cut up and killed his boys。 But the city turned up empty; and they found the Reds all gathered in Speaking Meadow; just like they was ready for a sermon from the Prophet。 Miller never knowed there was so many Reds in Prophetstown; cause he never seen them all in the same place like this。 But they were Reds; weren't they? So he shot his musket all the same; just like the other men; firing and reloading; hardly looking at whether his shot hit anything。 How could he miss; them all standing together so close? The bloodlust was on him then; he was crazy with anger and the power to kill。 He didn't notice how some of the other men were getting quieter。 Shooting less often。 He just loaded and fired; loaded and fired; stepping a yard or two closer every time; out from the cover of the forest; out into the open; only when the cannon got moved into place did he stop shooting; make way for them; watched them mow great swaths through the mass of Reds。
  That was the first time he really noticed what all was happening to the Reds; what they were doing; what they weren't doing。 They weren't screaming。 They weren't fighting back。 They were just standing there; men and women and children; just looking out at the White men who were killing them。 Not a one even turned his back to the hail of shrapnel。 Not a parent tried to shield a child from the blast。 They just stood; waited; died。
  The grapeshot carved gaps in the crowd; the only thing to stop the spray of metal was human bodies。 Miller saw them fall。 Them as could; got up again; or at least knelt; or raised their heads above the mass of corpses so that the next blast would take them and kill them。
  What is it; do they want to die?
  Miller looked around him。 He and the men with him were standing in a sea of corpses  they had already walked out to where the outer edges of the crowd of Reds had been。 Right at his feet; the body of a boy no older than Alvin lay curled; his eye blown out by a musket ball。 Maybe my own musket ball; thought Miner。 Maybe I killed this boy。
  During the lulls between cannon volleys; Mille

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