thillerman.theblessingway-第3部分

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　a　brief　flicker　across　the　face　of　the　TV　screen　he　wasn't　watching。　He　had　turned　off　the　sound　an　hour　ago；　intending　to　grade　final…examination　papers。　But　the　wind　made　him　nervous。　He　had　mixed　a　shaker　of　martinis　instead；　and　drank　slowly；　making　them　last　until；　finally；　he　could　sleep。
　Tomorrow；　perhaps；　there　would　be　the　answer　to　his　letter；　and　Joe　Leaphorn　would　tell　him　that　it　was　a　good　season　for　witchcraft　gossip；　or　a　poor　season；　or　a　fair　season。　And　maybe；　if　prospects　were　good；　he　would　go　to　the　Reservation　next　week　and　spend　the　summer　pleting　the　case　studies　he　needed　to　finish　the　book　that　no　longer　mattered　to　him。　Or　maybe　he　wouldn't　go。
　He　snapped　on　the　radio　and　stood　by　the　glass　door　opening　on　his　apartment　balcony。　The　wind　had　raveled　away　the　cloud　cover　over　Sandia　Mountain　and　its　dark　outline　bulked　against　the　stars　on　the　eastern　horizon。
　Ten　stories　below；　the　lights　of　the　city　spread　toward　the　foothills；　a　lake　of　phosphorescence　in　an　infinity　of　night。　Behind　him　the　radio　announced　that　tomorrow　would　be　cooler　with　diminishing　winds。　It　then　produced　a　guitar　and　a　young　man　singing　of　trouble。
　〃But；〃　the　singer　promised；　〃life　goes　on。〃
　〃And　years　roll　by；
　And　time　heals　all；
　And　soon　we're　dead；
　We're　peaceful　dead。〃
　The　sentiment　parodied　McKee's　mood　so　perfectly　that　he　laughed。　He　walked　back　to　his　desk…a　bulky；　big…boned；　tired…faced　man　who　looked　at　once　powerful　and　clumsy。　He　shuffled　the　ungraded　exam　papers　together；　dumped　them　into　his　briefcase；　poured　a　final　martini　from　the　shaker；　and　took　it　into　the　bedroom。　He　looked　at　the　certificate　framed　on　the　wall。　It　needed　dusting。　McKee　brushed　the　glass　with　his　handkerchief。
　〃Whereas；〃　the　proclamation　began；　〃it　is　monly　and　universally　known　by　all　students　of　Anthropology　that　Bergen　Leroy　McKee；　B。A。；　M。A。；　Ph。D。；　is　in　truth　and　in　fact　none　other　than　MONSTER　SLAYER；　otherwise　identified　as　the　Hero　Twin　in　the　Navajo　Origin　Myth；
　
　〃And　Whereas　this　fact　is　attested　and　demonstrated　by　unhealthy　obsession　and　preoccupation　of　said　Professor　McKee；　hereafter　known　as　MONSTER　SLAYER；　with　belaboring　his　students　with　aforesaid　Origin　Myth；
　
　〃And　Whereas　MONSTER　SLAYER　is　known　to　have　been　born　of　Changing　Woman　and　sired　by　the　Sun；
　
　〃And　Whereas　the　aforesaid　sexual　union　was　without　benefit　of　Holy　Matrimony；　and　is　monly　known　to　have　been　illicit；　illegal；　un…sanctified　and　otherwise　improper　fornication；
　
　〃Therefore　be　it　known　to　all　men　that　the　aforesaid　MONSTER　SLAYER　meets　the　popular　and　legal　definition　of　Bastard；　and　demonstrates　his　claim　to　this　title　each　semester　by　the　manner　in　which　he　grades　the　papers　of　his　Graduate　Seminar　in　Primitive　Superstition。〃
　The　proclamation　had　been　laboriously　hand…lettered　in　Gothic　script；　embossed　with　a　notary　public's　seal；　and　signed　by　all　seven　members　of　McKee's　seminar。　Signed　six　years　ago；　the　year　he　had　won　tenure　on　the　University　of　New　Mexico　anthropology　faculty…full　membership　in　the　elite　of　the　students　of　man　with　W。　W。　Hill；　and　Hibben；　Ellis　and　Gonzales；　Schwerin；　Canfield；　Campbell；　Bock　and　Stan　Newman；　Spuhler；　and　the　others。　The　year　he　became　part　of　a　team　unmatched　between　Harvard　and　Berkeley。　The　last　good　year。　The　year　before　ing　home　to　this　apartment　and　finding　Sara's　closets　empty　and　Sara's　note。　Fourteen　words　in　blue　ink　on　blue　paper。　The　last　year　of　excitement；　and　enthusiasm；　and　plans　for　research　which　would　tie　all　Navajo　superstitionsjnto　a　tidy；　orderly　bundle。　The　last　year　before　reality。
　McKee　drained　the　martini；　switched　off　the　lights　and　lay　in　the　darkness；　hearing　the　wind　and　remembering　how　it　had　been　to　be　Monster　Slayer。
　
　Chapter　3
　
　Bergen　McKee　approached　his　faculty　mailbox　on　the　morning　of　May　26　as　he　habitually　approached　it…with　a　faint　tickle　of　expectation。　Years　of　experience；　of　pulling　out　notices　to　the　faculty；　lecture　handbills；　and　book　advertisements；　had　submerged　this　quirk　without　totally　extinguishing　it。　Sometimes　when　he　had　other　things　on　his　mind；　McKee　reached　into　the　box　without　this　brief　flash　of　optimism；　the　thought　that　today　it　might　offer　some　unimaginable　surprise。　But　today　as　he　walked　through　the　doorway　into　the　department　secretary's　outer　office；　said　good　morning　to　Mrs。　Kreutzer；　and　made　the　right　turn　to　reach　the　mail　slots；　he　had　no　such　distraction。　If　the　delivery　was　as　barren　as　usual；　he　would　be　required　to　turn　his　thoughts　immediately　to　the　problem　of　grading　eighty…four　final…examination　papers　by　noon　tomorrow。　It　was　a　dreary　prospect。
　〃Did　Dr。　Canfield　find　you？〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　was　holding　her　head　down　slightly；　looking　at　him　through　the　top　half　of　her　bifocals。
　〃No　ma'am。　I　haven't　seen　Jeremy　for　two　or　three　days。〃
　The　top　envelope　was　from　Ethnology　Abstracts。　The　form　inside　notified　him　that　his　subscription　had　expired。
　〃He　wanted　you　to　talk　to　a　woman；〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　said。　〃I　think　you　just　missed　her。〃
　〃O。K。；〃　McKee　said。　〃What　about？〃　The　second　envelope　contained　a　mimeographed　form　from　Dr。　Green　officially　reminding　all　faculty　members　of　what　they　already　knew…that　final　semester　grades　must　be　registered　by　noon；　May　27。
　〃Something　about　the　Navajo　Reservation；〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　said。　〃She's　trying　to　locate　someone　working　out　there。　Dr。　Canfield　thought　you　might　know　where　she　could　look。〃
　McKee　grinned。　It　was　more　likely　that　Mrs。　Kreutzer　had　decided　the　woman　was　unattached　and　of　marriageable　age；　and　might…in　some　mysterious　way…find　McKee　attractive。　Mrs。　Kreutzer　worried　about　people。　He　remembered　then　that　he　had　met　a　woman　leaving　as　he　came　into　the　Anthropology　Building；　a　young　woman　with　dark　hair　and　dark　eyes。
　〃Was　she　my　type？〃　he　asked。　The　third　and　last　letter　was　postmarked　Window　Rock；　Arizona；　with　the　return　address　of　the　Division　of　Law　and　Order；　Navajo　Tribal　Council。　It　would　be　from　Joe　Leaphorn。　McKee　put　it　into　his　pocket。
　Mrs。　Kreutzer　was　looking　at　him　reproachfully；　knowing　what　he　was　thinking；　and　not　liking　his　tone。　McKee　felt　a　twinge　of　remorse。
　〃She　seemed　nice；〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　said。　〃I'd　think　you'd　want　to　help　her。〃
　〃I'll　do　what　I　can；〃　he　said。
　〃Jeremy　told　me　you　were　going　to　the　reservation　with　him　this　summer；〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　said。　〃I　think　that's　nice。〃
　〃It's　not　definite；〃　McKee　said。　〃I　may　have　to　take　a　summer…session　course。〃
　〃Let　somebody　else　teach　this　summer；〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　said。　She　looked　at　him　over　her　glasses。　〃You're　getting　pale。〃
　McKee　knew　he　was　not　getting　pale。　His　face；　at　the　moment；　was　peeling　from　sunburn。　But　he　also　knew　that　Mrs。　Kreutzer　was　speaking　allegorically。　He　had　once　heard　her　give　a　Nigerian　graduate　student　the　same　warning；　and　when　the　student　had　asked　him　what　Mrs。　Kreutzer　could　possibly　have　meant　by　it；　McKee　had　explained　that　it　meant　she　was　worrying　about　him。
　〃You　ought　to　tell　them　to　go　to　hell；〃　Mrs。　Kreutzer　said；　and　the　vehemence　surprised　McKee　as　much　as　the　language。　〃Everybody　imposes　on　you。〃
　〃Not　really；〃　McKee　said。　〃Anyway；　I　don't　mind。〃
　But　as　he　walked　down　the　hall　toward　his　office　he　did　mind；　at　least　a　little。　George　Everett　had　asked　him　to　take　his　classes　this　summer；　because　Everett　had　an　offer　to　handle　an　excavation　in　Guatemala；　and　it　irritated　McKee　now　to　remember　how　sure　Everett　had　been　that　good　old　Bergen　would　do　him　the　favor。　And　he　minded　a　little　being　the　continuing　object　of　Mrs。　Kreutzer's　pity。　The　cuckold　needs　no　reminder　of　his　horns　and　the　reject　no　reminder　of　his　failure。
　He　took　the　Law　and　Order　envelope　from　his　pocket　and　looked　at　it；　neglecting　his　habitual　glance　through　the　hallway　window　at　the　chipping　plaster　on　the　rear　of　the　Alumni　Chapel。　Instead　he　thought　of　how　it　had　been　to　be　twenty…seven　years　old　in　search　of　truth　on　the　Navajo　Reservation；　still　excited　and　innocent；　still　optimistic；　not　yet　taught　that　he　was　less　than　a　man。　He　couldn't　quite　recapture　the　feeling。
　It　wasn't　until　he　had　opened　the　blinds；　turned　on　the　air　conditioner　and　registered　the　familiar　creak　of　his　swivel　chair　a