The Americans Read Online Free PDF Page A

going upstairs. He was spared the need to invent an excuse by a flurry of cheerful greetings at the front door. When he saw who had come in, he smiled too. Captain Eben Royce was a small, trim man who made his living with his own fishing smack. Boston-born and raised, he was fifty or more, but only his lined face and graying hair gave away that fact; he had the energy of someone half his age. Royce and Carter had struck up a conversation the first time Carter had visited the Cod. They'd gotten along well, becoming occasional drinking companions. Royce was a tolerant man. Hearing that Carter attended Harvard, he'd smiled and shrugged: "If you prove yourself worthy in other ways, we'll not hold that against you." Royce had a good many friends in the tavern, and each wanted a bit of his time. This proved a little awkward for his companion-a stunning dark-haired woman about ten years Carter's senior, and four inches taller than Royce. The woman had high cheekbones, a full mouth, smooth skin, and shining dark hair that fell across the shoulders of her threadbare cloak. The cloak emphasized rather than concealed the lines of the large breasts which heightened her aura of robust sexuality. Carter had never seen the woman before. But he knew her name was Helen Stavros, and that she was Greek. Royce had formed a liaison with her about six months before. He bragged about her constantly: "A beautiful, an36 gelic face-and a disposition to match." From a man toughened to the ways of the world and the disappointing weaknesses found in most human beings, it was a compliment indeed. Gazing at the woman now, Carter understood what his friend meant. He envied Royce. Royce socialized with acquaintances a moment longer, then took the woman's arm and guided her to a table at the very back of the tavern. He ordered bowls of chowder and pots of beer, then began to circulate again. Soon he reached the fireplace. He shook Carter's hand with great warmth: "Didn't expect you here. Thought you'd be celebrating Georgie's birthday up at Harvard Square." "The girls up there aren't my land," Carter shrugged. "I must say, Eben, your lady is all you said she was." Royce beamed. "Aye, she's a beauty, ain't she? Never thought a female could persuade me to think about changin' my bachelor status." "I wouldn't expect a woman that handsome to be unmarried." "She wasn't till her husband died. Two years ago it was. She and Stavros came from a little village called Poros, on an island near Athens. Her husband sickened in our climate and died pretty quick. But their town was a fishing town-which is why she don't mind the way I smell." He cast an almost worshipful look toward the woman, who sat calmly surveying the rafters of the room. Carter surmised she was intentionally avoiding the gaze of the other men. Many were watching her closely. "She says she's right fond of me, Carter. Right fond- and I guess that makes me the luckiest man in Boston." "I agree with you that she's beautiful," Carter told him, meaning it. "G'wan, now-she's taken," the fisherman laughed, knuckling Carter's shoulder in a good-natured way. "How you getting along with all those perfessers?" "Worse than ever." "Well, my offer stands. If that stuff gets too disagreeable, I'll put you to work on the Atlantic Anne. Hard work keeps a man out o' trouble." "I can find other ways to stay out of trouble,. Eben." Carter said it with a smile, but he wasn't entirely joking. Royce shrugged, and walked behind the bench to speak to his employee, Tillman. Helen Stavros was spooning chowder from a cracked bowl. The Cod wasn't the sort of place a decent woman would dare enter alone. But with Eben present, no one molested her-and Carter's estimate of the woman's character increased even more when he saw that she did absolutely nothing to give the captain cause for jealousy. Carter frowned suddenly. The noise level had dropped all at once. Heads again turned toward the front door. Carter looked that way and saw a man