Chapter 30

Part two "Spring meetings"

Chapter Five

Steamed thoroughly, but without fanaticism. Matvey Vlasovich gradually warmed up, his muscles relaxed, his soul was filled with peace. He, as it were, pulled away from everything that filled the past day. Everything is gone. True, in the heat, already healed wounds on frostbitten hands reminded of themselves. Their skin turned red and bruised. But be patient.

The men barely spoke. Only the hiss of water on hot stones, slaps of bath brooms on the backs, and occasionally short exclamations interrupted the silence. The pungent aroma of freshly cut birch twigs could not completely mask the smell emanating from the larch logs. Long cut down, deprived of roots, they somehow retained the juices they had received earlier. This was especially pronounced every year, with the advent of spring. Then the walls of the house and the bathhouse seemed to come to life, like everything around. And in winter, hot steam woke up dead life in them. The power of nature always magically affects people. Maybe that's also why the men withdrew into themselves, were so silent. Only once, while resting in the dressing room, Butakov dropped it when he saw a high snowdrift outside the window:

- Oh, twenty years ago, you could have jumped there, in our opinion, in Siberia.

- I do not advise, it's only on top that he is so fluffy. And under it stones, sharp. You won't get away with bruises. And the ambulance won't get here.

Tretyakov was still polite, but no more. But Butakov was in no hurry to break this chill. However, after only a few hours, they already knew a lot about each other.

Seeing the deep characteristic scars on Yuri's shoulder, the guest could not resist:

- What kind of beast put its seal? Is it too small for a bear?

The owner glanced sideways at his body, without going into details, explained:

— No, I wouldn't just walk away from a bear. The lynx “decorated” me.

“Lynx... also a very serious beast. It's good that it worked out that way.

Tretyakov "rounded off" the topic:

- That was a long time ago. What is there to remember.

Butakov at that moment remembered his wife with gratitude. After all, only through her efforts he gradually "cured" of the bad habit of exploding from such trifles. Of course, life experience also helped. The character has become more balanced. Of course, it’s unpleasant when you, like a boy, are told where you shouldn’t poke your nose, but, if you think about it, is Matvey Vlasovitch himself an ideal? "It's clear - no. He came when they weren't called, and even you climb into the soul. Okay. Let's wait and see."

And he switched to memories of the house. How are they there? They are suffering for sure. By the way, about the tavern with kvass in the cool pantry of their estate, I felt homesick. In winter, Evdokia Alexandrovna prepared him only for bathing days. In the cold, it was replaced by teas. But in the summer they drank it daily and a lot.

- Eh, now kvass would not hurt.

Tretyakov did not immediately respond. He passed somewhere behind the partition of the dressing room, the sound of pouring liquid was heard. The owner returned with two voluminous mugs.

- I'm not very good with kvass. But birch sap, I think, is no worse on this occasion.

- Birch juice! So this is generally a holiday for the soul and body. With us, it also occasionally appears, but in the spring, - not without sincere surprise, the guest accepted the heavy container served to him.

- I, of course, also collect it in the spring, but just for the winter. For a bath.

- So it's not enough to collect it, so you also need to save it until winter. Are you into canning?

Tretyakov answered evasively:

- Not really. But secrets must be known.

Even before the first sip, Butakov felt the delicate aroma of a familiar drink, but caught something special in it. Tried. Sweet, but not cloying, which is attached to sugar. Honey, but there is still some bitterness.

- Do you sip honey?

- Guessed. But not everyone. Only collected by wild bees from local honey plants. Raspberry, fireweed, Ivan tea. I add it to the drink just before drinking. Then all the benefits of both juice and honey will come to you.

— Hmm... how many years I spent in the taiga, but I met wild bees with their hives only a couple of times.

Yes, you need to know the places. Bees don't like hunters for their honey.

- Where are the birch trees? I've seen several throughout the day. Yes, and those for themselves - then the juice is not enough. stunted.

“There is only boron around here. But behind the hill, there, on the plain, a deciduous forest grows. I go there in the spring.

- Over the hill?

- Well, yes, we left it on the right when we went up here.

It was clear that "hill" Yuri refers to a rather high mountain. Climbing which probably takes a lot of time, and it also requires a lot of effort. So, to stock up juice for the whole winter is a rather difficult task. But what is simple in the taiga?

Matvey Vlasovich emptied his mug with pleasure and, as if to himself, dropped:

“Nature has many secrets. She does not open them to everyone.

The owner at this moment realized:

— Too late already. Maybe the last time we give in a couple, and that's enough for today?

Butakov did not mind.

Having changed into a clean, dry T-shirt and canvas pants given to him by the owner, he was about to go to the hut. But Tretyakov stopped him.

- Rest. I'll bring everything here. We'll have dinner here. I am here and spend the night after the bath. I advise you too. But decide for yourself.

Dinner looked simple. A large cast-iron of meat stewed in a Russian oven with roots, and salted wild garlic instead of salad. Cooked over a slow heat with almost no added water, the meat was tender and exuded aroma. However, he disappeared as soon as the wild onion appeared on the table.

“Oh, now all the animals of the district will come to us for this smell,” Butakov laughed.

— Yes, wild garlic is held in high esteem by many four-legged animals here. But in the spring, and salty hardly any of them will like it.

- And this is good. We ourselves will get more.

Armed with a spoon, Butakov somewhat embarrassedly asked the owner:

- You, be a friend, don't look at me. It's like I haven't eaten for two days. I'm sorry.

Matvey Vlasovich really only just now felt how hungry he was, and even dinner really came to his taste. Real taiga food.

The owner chuckled knowingly.

- Come on, eat, after such and such a "walk" everyone will have a brutal appetite.

Half an hour later, the cast iron was noticeably empty. Matvey Vlasovich nodded at Altai:

- The meat is already cold, can we give them already?

- Terrible ate. And I will give Altai now.

Hearing her name, the shepherd dog dozing at the feet of Yuri raised its head.

- You raised him well, he doesn’t beg from the table.

Yuri laughed.

"What's he begging for?" Grozny had already shared a little with him, while I was gathering food for us in the hut, he ran to his friend. I feed him more and more. After all, he is mostly on the street, and such a big man needs more fuel than the three of us.

Having poured herbal tea for himself and his guest, the host settled himself comfortably, was silent for a while and spoke in a low voice about Gushchin.

- How do you know him? He didn't seem to mention you.

The question touched Matvey Vlasovich. Not only because he was rather unceremonious. He reminded Matvey Vlasovich of his own doubts. He had to think about many things before calling Gushchin. After so many years of silence. Why was their connection interrupted, does the former employee of the geological party remember him? Appeared one day out of nowhere, and a few years later, just as suddenly disappeared. An ordinary hard worker, but with a track record that not every big official can boast of. Despite close communication, he never really spoke about himself. Not in the first days after starting work, not afterwards. And no one wanted to disturb someone else's soul. He mentioned that he served in the army, the conflict with the authorities came out. Resigned. What is not news. Different people came to the aid of geologists. If he didn’t shirk, didn’t let him down, then no one asked, why sometimes a person changed his office for a tent and a pen for a hoe, took off his shoulder straps. And Gushchin turned out to be not only sensible, controversial in business, but also a reliable person. His experience of survival in difficult conditions more than once rescued the entire expedition. They were especially close to Butakov. Friendship began immediately. Somehow it quickly became clear that they think the same way, they read the same books, the soul hurts about one. After returning to Novosibirsk, Gushchin called him a couple of times. But then he fell silent. According to rumors, he took a position in the Ministry of Emergency Situations, and then headed the regional branch. General received. Butakov did not make himself known either. Matvey Vlasovich was not used to "getting underfoot," as he said. Or maybe he needed support? Who knows. It turned out inconvenient. Therefore, he doubted whether it was worth reminding him of himself now, and even with his problems. They are incomprehensible to themselves

Matvey Vlasovich did not hide all this from Yuri. He spoke honestly, as if in spirit. He explained that from the first minute of the conversation with Gushchin, he was sure that he had called not in vain, that neither the rank, nor the position, nor the time had changed his comrade. Answering, he asked himself:

- And how did fate bring you together? I realized that you are very close, and for a long time.

Yuri confirmed:

- From youth. They served at one frontier post. When I arrived there after school, he already had a title. Starley. But he went up quickly. Many envy. The command appreciated him. Highly. A few years later he was deputy commander, and then commander. We were from the same place. We were friends. Families.

Here Yuri's voice trembled, but he overcame himself, finished the phrase:

- He called himself the godfather of my youngest daughter. Like, joking, but in fact, I thought so myself. Loved her. He has two sons. So she replaced his daughter.

Only the ability to listen to the interlocutor helped Matvey Vlasovich understand that there was no need to ask about Yuri's family. And he didn't interrupt.

“I can’t tell you everything about Gushchin. This is not my task. I can only say that at one point he left the service, retired from the army. It’s good that the title was not taken away from him, the awards were not deprived. Why, why - all questions to him. But I think that it was then that he got to the geologists. By the way, he sometimes said that if it were not for the army, he would have gone to the geologists. He liked it.

Matvei Vlasovich shook his head and smiled.

- And he admitted to me that since childhood he dreamed of serving in the army. It is in the border guards. I've always envied him a little. He's younger than me, and he's always been stronger. It felt like he would go far.

Here Butakov thought for a moment, then shrugged his hands:

- But what if, after a pick and a shovel, he would find himself in the Ministry of Emergency Situations, and even receive the rank of general, I did not imagine this.

Then he confidently added:

- But it's all right. This is how generals should be. He is in his place.

The owner glanced at his watch.

- That's enough for today. Time to sleep. Everything else tomorrow. I'll clean up here, and you lie down.

Giving Butakov a pillow and a blanket, he suddenly said:

- I don’t know about Gushchin, but I would be in your place today, after such a road I was already lying on the bench and not breathing. Even though he's younger than you. And you're out ... like a cucumber. So you can envy it. Your hands are just wrong. What's up with them? Burn?

- No, he froze. Yes, everything seems to have healed, but the steam room had such an effect on them.

- Hurts?

- No, it's nonsense, it hurts a little. Will heal.

Yuri again disappeared behind the partition, made some noise with some bottles, rustled with something. Came back with a bandage. A thick layer of ointment was applied to it.

“Here, this will help. I saved myself several times.

He deftly bandaged his right hand, and only smeared the left.

This one is almost back to normal. So let's leave it. Everything should be over by tomorrow.

***

Yuri took the dishes into the house. He could be heard talking to Grozny, closing the wooden shutters, locking the front door, which a gust of night wind could open. All this was calming, drowsy.

Matvey Vlasovich slept in a quiet, calm sleep. Only once during the whole night was close to awakening, when a wolf howl was heard outside the window. It came from afar, from the foot of the hill. Grozny growled, the voice of Altai rang out. Tretyakov got up from the bench where the bed had been made. He took a gun from the wall and went out. Several shots rang out. The howl stopped, everything was quiet.

***

Matvey Vlasovich woke up from the light knock of the shutters in the hut. Probably the owner opened it. It was still warm and gloomy in the dressing room. The morning sun had not yet illuminated the room. Butakov waited, then lay down for another minute with his eyes closed. Then he got up and walked under the awning into the house. It was cooler and lighter here. Looking out the window, Matvey Vlasovich watched Yuri with a smile. Instead of charging, he rather famously went down the hill on skis, Grozny and Altai rushed after him to the very bottom, ahead of him. Then he slowly climbed up the stairs almost to the very platform of Grozny, and during this time the dogs managed to rush to the top several times, return to him, run around, roll each other in the snow. At the same time, Altai announced the area with a ringing bark, and Grozny only occasionally echoed him in bass. A picture of ordinary village life somewhere in Siberia. If you don't know, of course

Having admired the trinity, Butakov decided to start breakfast.

He unzipped his backpack, took out the gifts from it. An impressive circle of homemade cheese, smoked bacon, butter. All this took up most of the shoulder bag. The only thing missing was bread. Looking into a small pantry, he found a fair supply of flour. Over the years of geological expeditions, he learned to cook quite tolerable food in any conditions, with a minimum set of products. Plus, bake bread. Today I decided not to bother. Yes, and in sight did not find a suitable form. Decided to go with cakes.

When from the first match dry firewood flared up easily, and the fire, sensing a good draft, rushed up, thought:

This guy is a jack of all trades. In modern times, it is not so easy to lay down a Russian stove. The bakers have moved on.

***

Matvey Vlasovich, without fuss, but with habitual dexterity, kneaded a simple dough, set the table, and Yuri, remembering the duties of the owner, was about to head to the house, but then he noticed smoke from the chimney, and the wind carried the aroma of bread.

“We have a good guest today, guys, we can slide down one or two more times,” he shouted to the dogs and rushed down. Grozny and Altai followed him, but with some reluctance. They also smelled food, he called them to the house.

When, finally, the company, having with difficulty cleared itself of snow, appeared at the door, breakfast was ready. The bowls of Grozny and Altai were filled with stew of meat and cereals, and in the middle of the table there was a mountain of hot cakes surrounded by sliced ​​cheese and smoked lard, and all the same wild garlic.

“Thank you, you are a kind person, we are not often so lucky,” Yuri half-jokingly greeted the guest.

- So the debt is red in payment - that's what they say. - Yes, and here my work is quite a bit. The sons smoked the meat and bacon. I just delivered it, and the cheese is my daughter-in-law trying. But bread, yes, my work. Reminds me of my youth, so to speak.

Tretyakov appreciated the home production of the Butakovs.

I especially liked the cheese. He asked about the cheese factory, about the origin of the recipes. From his questions, one could understand that in this matter he knows more than an ordinary lover of a dairy product. In conversations, time passed quickly. Yuri behaved more friendly today, joked, smiled more often. However, Butakov felt that he had not yet received full confidence from him. I was waiting for the owner to ask the most important question.

This happened when breakfast was over, Grozny went to his post, and Altai was already dozing at the feet of Yuri.

- I see that you are a serious, direct person, and I will not play a diplomat either. I was asked to accept you by my close friend. I cannot refuse him. Therefore, here is my shelter for you, everything that is here - you can use it as your own. But you didn't come here for "fresh air, did you?" Then why are you here?

Although Matvey Vlasovich was preparing to answer a similar question, he still did not know how to answer it. Where to begin?

“You start from the very beginning,” Yuri advised him, seriously and carefully peering into the face of his interlocutor.

From the very beginning, you say? Then we must, perhaps, have to rewind the years that way ... I don’t know how many. More than half a century ago. I think that's where it started.

- So do it. We still have nowhere to hurry. In the yard, the snow is already beginning. Apparently, the snow will soon go, but with the wind. The air smells like a storm.

Butakov confirmed:

— Yes, it looks like it. My broken leg “creaks” - no one predicts bad weather better than her.

- Well, then, we should sit on the stove with you, warm the bones. You will talk and I will listen. And this I love.

Matvey Vlasovich took a sip of tea, put the mug on the table, leaned on it with both hands and returned to that sunny day when a frightened bear cub crawled out of the thickets towards him.

At the first mention of this crumb, Tretyakov suddenly tensed up. His eyes became even more attentive. He hung on every word. When, finally, he heard that the search for the she-bear ended at the bank of the river through which she crossed, he asked:

Was the bear alone?

— No, she had a second bear cub with her.

Yuri looked strangely at Butakov.

- And this bear cub, the second one was healthy, not injured, not sick?

Butakov thought, remembering.

— Hmm... but it's true. The guys who found her footprints said that the bear cub fell on one leg, limped. There was no blood, apparently, the wound had healed, but he could not walk straight.

Yuri was silent for several minutes, thinking about something, then got up, went to a large homemade chest, opened it and advised the guest:

- You take a break for now. I have something to show you. But you have to dig in here. I haven't looked here for a long time. Forgot where, what lies.

Butakov shrugged his shoulders, also got up, looked out the window, then threw on his jacket and went out onto the porch. From the hill on which the house stood, a picture of the vast taiga opened up. The mountain, overgrown with fir and larch, seemed very close, and the slope in the gorge, which began right at the porch, was unusually long. The wind had not yet gained much strength, but it was already playing lightly with the tops of the trees, bending them almost in half. The forest hummed, foreshadowing a storm. It didn't take long to enjoy nature. Soon the frost penetrated through the clothes. And Grozny, as always, was imperturbable and was in no hurry to hide from the weather in the booth. After petting the dog, Butakov hurried into the warmth.

Tretyakov at that time found the same thing he was looking for. An old map, already glued along the folds. Turning around, he stared for a long time. Finally he returned to the table and placed it in front of Butakov.

Can you show me where you found the teddy bear?

— Rather, it was he who found me, but I'll try. The map is detailed. Hope it works.

Somewhat perplexed, Matvey Vlasovich found the town near which his party had once worked.

“Here, around here somewhere. Ten kilometers from here. Then it was a village, even a village.

Yuri clarified:

— The river. After all, it was all on the river, where approximately?

Butakov orientated himself:

“Here, most likely. Of course, I can't say exactly. But I remember that she made a small turn just where our camp was. Here it is, on the map.

Yuri thoughtfully looked at the map, then at the narrator. Matvey Vlasovich could not stand it:

Do you know those places? Been there?

- Been there. Even as it happened, Yuri replied with a grin. “I served there for six years at the border. Here is my outpost. Marked in red.

“Yes, not far,” agreed Matvey Vlasovich. — Quite close. How many kilometers are there. Twenty thirty?

— Yes, it looks like it is.

The coincidence was, of course, unusual, but that just does not happen in life. And Tretyakov still looked at the map intently and was silent.

Butakov wanted to continue:

So where did I stop?

Yuri interrupted him:

“Do you think a she-bear with a lame suckling bear could have walked these thirty kilometers through the taiga?” And the places there are impassable, you know.

— To the outpost? Are you saying that...

- Yes exactly. Around that time, a she-bear came to our outpost with a lame, emaciated cub. My partner and I were on duty. She went straight to us. So we almost shot her. Well in time they noticed that something strange was happening to her. She moaned, did not walk, but almost crawled towards us. She behaved in such a way that it was clear that she was dying. Which she did a few hours later. Nobody could help her. It was necessary, at least, to euthanize the beast. While the veterinarian was called, while he arrived. We're late.

Butakov could not restrain his emotions:

- Hell! Someone else would have told me, I would have attributed all this to taiga tales. And then, what do you say?

The tea was getting cold, and for some time the men were animatedly discussing the possibility of participation in these stories of the same bear family, the fate of the cubs. This long-standing event pulled them out of reality, returned them to distant days. Finally, enjoying the memories, fell silent. They listened to the growing wind outside the walls, the tapping of shutters, the breath of Altai.

Tretyakov was the first to break the pause:

Yes, funny things happen sometimes in life. But why did you remember this?

Butakov explained:

— Of course, this story itself was remembered forever, but publications in the newspapers of that time are associated with it. They wrote about her both in Moscow and in our region.

- So what? They have such a job. Well, if nothing is distorted. They did not think of it to enhance the effect.

- No, this time it’s a sin to complain about journalists, everything was honestly described. But among the publications there was one small note about two hunters. So from them I first heard about some unknown people in the taiga. They called him "people of the taiga".

Tretyakov could not hide his unusual reaction to these words. He turned pale, bit his lip, then asked in a dull voice:

“People of the taiga, you say? Did they say so?

- Yes, it was written in the newspaper, - Butakov was struck by Yuri's emotionality, but decided not to focus on this.

— Taiga people! Tretyakov repeated, passed his hand across his face, as if relieving tension, folded up the map, stood up, and walked around the room. It was clear that he was having a hard time getting over his excitement. Butakov watched him, tried to understand the cause of this excitement, but could not.

“Those hunters are fantasists,” Yury began after a pause, not very confidently. - What peoples can be "unknown" today?

“That was more than fifty years ago,” Matvey Vlasovich recalled.

Yes, and fifty years ago it was impossible.

Matvey Vlasovich carefully looked at Yuri, trying to understand the reason for such strong feelings about an insignificant fact from the story. So far, he has produced quite the opposite impression. He seemed to be a deep and very reserved person. Could not, albeit unusual, but long-lived history, so change it.

"What's wrong with him? Maybe, and most likely, she is connected with his family, with children. Although what children. He probably wasn't even married at the time."

Butakov was lost in conjectures, but he tried not to show his bewilderment. Tretyakov, who also knows how to “read” the internal state of people quite well, realized that his guest deserved an explanation. But it wasn't that easy to do so. After all, Matvey Vlasovich now, probably not expecting it himself, was closer than anyone else to discovering his secret. Not only him, but also others to whom he promised to keep it. Yuri was forced, if not to cheat, then to take the easiest path. To pretend that he did not notice the inquisitive glances of the guest.

“Yes, we are very much carried away by our memories. And you just started to explain to me what is so important that brought you here. In winter. Come on, I'll heat us up another cup of tea, and you'll continue.

Matvey Vlasovich shrugged his shoulders slightly.

- Yes, I do not mind, my throat is dry from our conversations. And they are not over yet.

Having poured freshly brewed tea for the guest and himself, Yuri sat down at the table again. The house was quiet. And outside the window, the howling of the wind was heard more and more clearly. The storm was clearly gathering force. Maybe that's why Matvey Vlasovich's soul became more and more restless. But Yuri was waiting for the continuation of the story.

- Of course, I would not stir up the distant past, if not for these newspapers. And I had to re-read them quite recently.

-Yes, and why?

Matvey Vlasovich did not have time to answer. His satellite phone rang. While he got up, found it in his backpack, the signal was interrupted, but Tretyakov's phone immediately came to life. The forester got in touch with him. The news he shared made both men go cold.

"Emergency" happened. Pavel, the son of Tretyakov's friend, without waiting for a message from Butakov, followed him along the route yesterday. So far, no news from him. And the weather is getting worse.

- Your mother! How did he not get the message? After all, we were talking to you.

- They said, but he was at the castle. Here, mobile communication is poor, and he does not have satellite. I left a note for him in the office on the table. But for some reason he didn't find it. In the morning I received a text message from him.

- A note, a text message... What is this, a kindergarten? Tretyakov exploded.

“Don’t put pressure on me, I myself know that it shouldn’t be like this, but we have a lot of things to do right now. Tourists are stuck here in bad weather. Scientists from Moscow. But the hands are missing. And I did not expect such arbitrariness from him. He never did anything without my instructions...

- It's clear. When do you say he left?

- Today at five. The weather was still good. The forecast for a blizzard was only for the night.

— What do you think to do?

— So far, nothing. Appealed to the Ministry of Emergency Situations. They promised to help.

The conversation ended. There was an oppressive silence in the house. The two men thought hard. Then Tretyakov went up to the wall, on which a homemade map was attached. A route developed by him several years ago. The forester, Pavel, and now Butakov have copies of it.

He knows the road as well as I do. I'm used to the taiga. Hardy. So he should be there by now.

Once again discussing the route, checking with the clock, the men, without saying a word, were forced to admit that something unforeseen happened to Pavel. Now it was necessary to decide the main thing - what to do, how to help him.