On the River Styx Read Online Free PDF Page B

toe and sent the turtle sprawling on its back.
    “Come on, you coward,” he said. “Fight.”
    The turtle reached back into the dust with its snout and pivoted itself upright with its neck muscles, then heaved around to face the enemy.
    “Leave it alone,” Cici said. “It can’t help being a turtle.”
    “We should kill it,” Frank told her. “It’s disgusting.”
    We should kill it, she thought, because it’s harmful on a farm, not for
your
reason. Lying there watching him badger the turtle, she felt a slow hurt anger crawling through her lungs, as if he had injured her over a period of time and only now she understood. She was sorry for the turtle, for its mute acceptance of the riding boots which barred its way.
    “You don’t have to look at it,” she said. “Besides, it’s mine. I saw it first.”
    He turned to her, hands on hips, smiling his party smile.
    “A fine thing,” he said, and waited for her question.
    “What is?” she obliged him, after a moment.
    “Here we’ve been married a year and now it’s turtles. First it was kittens and puppies, and then horses, and now turtles. I appreciate your instincts, Cici, but you
can’t
get weepy over turtles!”
    He laughed sharply.
    “Can’t I?” she said. Unsmiling, she watched the laugh wither in his mouth.
    Frank kicked suddenly at the turtle’s head, but his toe shrank from the contact and only arched a wave of dust into the hard stretched mouth and the little eyes. When the turtle blinked, the dust particles fell from above its eyelids.
    “Did I ever tell you about Toby Snead, Frank? When the other kids would torture a rat or a frog, Toby Snead would jump around, squealing and giggling. He loved it.He was skinny and weak, and he loved to see them pick on something besides himself.”
    “Was I giggling?” Frank said. His face was white.
    I’ve gone too far, Cici thought, and I’m going to go farther. She felt exhausted, lying back in the natural grass, easing herself of a year of disappointment as calmly as a baby spitting up cereal, a little startled by the produce of its mouth, yet more curious than concerned.
    “And you’ll get your manly new boots dirty, Frank,” she murmured.
    “I haven’t been here every year to get them faded,” he said. When she didn’t answer, he added, “And pick up a local accent, and ogle the hired hand.”
    “The caretaker, you mean,” Cici said, her eyes on the turtle. He’s jealous, she thought, actually jealous; he can’t admit that
he
made a rotten bargain, too.
    “Oh Cici, let’s skip it,” Frank said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you these days.”
    “I hope you find out,” Cici said, turning her eyes on him, “before my change of life.”
    “Let’s not start
that
all over again,” Frank Avery said. His voice was tight, a little desperate. “I’m sick of it. And you’ll catch cold, sitting on the ground.”
    “There’s plenty between me and the ground,” Cici said, grinning. She rose and, turning her buttocks to him, brushed the grass off with both hands.
    “See?” she said, over her shoulder. “Besides, I’ve got
you
to keep me warm.”
    She stepped around the turtle and, taking Frank’s face between her hands, kissed him with exaggerated sensuality on the mouth. When he tried to embrace her, however, she slipped from him.
    “Cici, listen to me,” he said, but she refused, stooping to the turtle.
    “C’mon, monster,” she said. “I’ll take you home and mother you.”
    “Permit me,” Frank said, and clowned a bow, but his heart was not in it. Circling behind the turtle, he seized it convulsively by the rear edges of its carapace and bore it like a hot unbalanced platter to the car.
    “What do you want him for?” he said. Then, “Open the door, will you?”
    “Monster’s peeing on you,” Cici told him, laughing in a way which suggested an alliance with the turtle against him. Watching his face, she was sorry she had laughed, but not for