Sharpe's Ransom

Начало книги

RICHARD SHARPE tugged off his boots, put his hands in the small of his back, arched his spine and grunted with pain. "Bloody cog-wheels, " he said. Lucille asked, "What is wrong with the bloody cogwheels?" "Rusted up, " Sharpe said as he tipped a cat off a kitchen chair. "No one" s greased those wheels in years."

He groaned as he sat down. "I'11 have to chip the things down to bare metal, then clear the leat." "The leat?" Lucille asked. She was still learning English. "The channel that takes the water to the mill, love. It's full of rubbish." Sharpe poured himself some red wine. "It'll take me all week to clear that." "It's Christmas in two days, " said Lucille. "So?" "So at Christmas you rest, " Lucille declared, "and the leat can rest. It is a holiday. I shall cook you a goose." "You cooked my goose long ago, girl,»

Sharpe said. Lucille made a dismissive noise, collected a pile of washing from the table, then walked down the scullery passage. Sharpe tipped his chair back to watch her, and Lucille, knowing she was being observed, deliberately swayed her hips. "Cooked it proper, you did! " Sharpe shouted. "If you want supper, she called back, "the stove needs wood."

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