Chapter 29

Long before the final decision to settle in the remote taiga, retired officer Yuri Tretyakov considered every little thing in the life of hermits. True, neither then, nor after he called himself that. After all, even those who were the first to come to Siberia, although they were considered desperate people, were not at all desperate. They did not break with civilization. They were building it. In a new place. Unlike them, Tretyakov did not expect followers. Vice versa. Having chosen a hard-to-reach corner, he expected that people would not get here soon. Few knew about his plans. Only the closest friends. In part, they understood the reasons for this choice. They were on the surface. The fate of his family was bitter. Parents died unexpectedly early. The only sister, who lived with her husband and daughter in the Baltic States, died during the crash of the ferry. And his own family - his wife and two children got into a car accident. Despite all the efforts of the doctors, they could not be saved.

Everyone heals these wounds in their own way. Friends supported their comrade-in-arms. Knowing that he spent almost all the money on the treatment of his wife and daughters, they collected a significant amount. She was enough to buy the most necessary things for life in the taiga and pay for the helicopter, which delivered the cargo close to Tretyakov's future home. So there was no need to sell an apartment in Novosibirsk. Everyone who was close to him believed that a few years would pass and he would return home. Only one of them suggested that not only grief drives the former border guard. There is another, more hidden from everyone, reason for his departure to the taiga.

Much time has passed since then. Gradually , everyone was convinced that the taiga had become a home for Yuri.

- Is it forever? - to a short and direct question from Alex, as out of habit, the brothers in the army called the youngest of those with whom they had been connected by service for many years, the answer was ready.

I'm not sure about "forever". Circumstances may force you to return. For example, a disease. But while healthy, my place is there.

The conversation took place on one of Tretyakov's rare visits to Novosibirsk. Visit native graves. Pay to take care of them. To meet those who were still waiting for his return.

That was a long time ago. Much has changed since that day. One friend died. The second went abroad forever, unable to find himself in a changed country. Only the connection between Tretyakov and Gushchin was never interrupted. Basically, through Oleg, a childhood friend who later became a forester, Gushchin sent New Year postcards, short letters. Messages reached the addressee sometimes after several months. There were also parcels with things that made life easier in the taiga. The last gift had been lying unpacked for two months. Satellite phone. Something prevented Tretyakov from establishing a permanent connection with the “mainland”. From where this internal resistance arose, he himself did not know. And I didn’t want to look into my soul so deeply. Until now, there has been no peace.

Yuri sighed, remembering the phone, glanced sideways at the Siberian pine shelf he had made with the tools Gushchin had given him a few years ago. Before that, everything was done only with an ax and the simplest carpentry set. I got up from my makeshift chair and took the still sealed box. Altai, the German Shepherd, followed him. The dog carefully followed his every movement, as if encouraging the desire to finally open a gift.

Do you think you should call? the owner asked him. Do you really think someone is looking for me?

In response, Altai only barked briefly, as he had done since his puppyhood, when he wanted to demonstrate his participation in the conversation.

Such "talks" were often held in the hut. Not only because Altai was the only living being nearby. The second dog, an overweight Caucasian named Terrible, rarely took part in them. Grozny spent most of his time on a wooden platform in front of the entrance to the hut. He was quiet and confident. He clearly considered his main task to be the protection of the entire house, the territory around it, of course, the owner. But Altai rarely moved further from Tretyakov than a step. Perhaps this was due to his history of being here. Once, about five years ago, Tretyakov visited the forestry in the summer, where he was already waiting for a supply of food for the winter and cartridges for guns. At that time, a short route to his forest home was not yet known. Oleg and his son Pavel were supposed to help Yuri deliver a rather bulky cargo to the taiga. Not finding a teenager next to his father, Tretyakov was surprised.

- And where is your faithful "squire"? It seems that he also wanted to go to the forest with us.

- He always has this desire. If there was an opportunity, he would not hesitate to go to you to spend the winter. Yes, that's just me and his mother against it. Of course, he will go with us, but here we have a problem. Let's go, you'll see.

In the yard the forester went to the warm stable. It was empty during the summer. All employees preferred to go around the forest on horseback. Entering the dark, spacious room, Tretyakov did not immediately realize where the obscure sounds were coming from. Oleg pointed to the manger in the stall. There, in an ordinary horse feeder, stuffed to the brim with hay, his Pavel slept. And nearby, clinging to him, tiny kittens were dozing. The boy still had one of the milk bottles in his hands.

- And where are the parents of this gang? At least their mother?

- Nobody knows. Some villain still retained the remnants of conscience, did not kill them, but threw them on us. Not the first time, unfortunately. Whom we just did not save here. Both wild and domestic animals. But to have such thoroughbred puppies - this is the first time.

- Yes, they could have waited until their mother fed them.

- What to say? There are many cruel people.

- So, how do you think to save them now?

- We are looking for a recently whelped female. If we're lucky, we'll give them to her for allowance, and then we'll find them a home. There will be many hunters to get German Shepherd puppies for free. In the meantime, here - my son takes the rap for those scoundrels.

- Yes, that's right. Do you have to feed them every three or four hours?

- Yes. - Day and night. - But nothing. - As long as it works.

Tretyakov bent over the manger to stroke either the boy or his pets. One of the suckers suddenly, as if on command, raised his head, unexpectedly firmly caught his tiny claws on the fabric of the jacket and deftly thrust his head into the sleeve.

- Oh, you shooter! - Tretyakov was amazed at such a agility, - and where did so much strength come from?

- And he is the strongest of the four. And he eats more than anyone else, and one of his eyes is almost open, - explained the awakened Pavel. – A cool dog will grow out of him.

***

During the two days spent in the forestry before returning to the taiga, Yuri repeatedly mentally returned to the scene in the stable. I understood, of course, that a tiny puppy would become a big burden on a long journey through the taiga. And the risk that he might not survive is great. And yet he decided.

Do you mind if I take your pet with me? he asked Paul.

- Of course, I don't mind. I will help you on the road.

The forester just shook his head, but did not object. Three days on windbreaks, narrow mountain paths and rocky slopes were not easy for people. Altai, as Pavel had already christened it, did not suspect it. He spent most of the journey in the bosom of a man whom he immediately recognized as his own. Yes, and the first weeks of life in the taiga hut, he rarely left his shelter, although he could hardly fit on the chest of a man.

Yuri was still turning the box with the phone in his hands and peering at the photo on the wall. It was made by Pavlik, saying goodbye to Tretyakov and his new pet until spring. A tall, broad-shouldered Siberian with hard-working hands and a face burned by the wind and sun looked from the picture . Smiling, he pointed to a tiny puppy peeking out of his jacket pocket. Then he was no more than ten days old.

- Well? What do you think? the owner repeated his question, turning to Altai, who was sitting at his feet. Will we have guests today?

Without waiting for an answer, he resolutely opened the package. After the second ring, a voice was heard in the receiver. Having overcome the bitterness of the fact that this was not the one with whom he was connected by childhood, and indeed his whole life, he named himself. Then for a long time, without interrupting, he listened to the message that a person, whom he had not heard of until now, was heading towards him.

- Why? Why did you give him my coordinates, the details of the route?

- I'm sorry, but Gushchin asked me about this. Your closest friend. I could not refuse his request. You understand.

- Gushchin? This is strange. But yes, then yes, of course. I understand you.

***

After talking with the forester, the man went out to the wide covered veranda in front of the house, listened. Taiga lived a normal life. Nothing disturbed her rhythm. Warmed by the bright sun, the wind brought only the smell of needles and melting snow. After making sure that everything was calm around him, Tretyakov continued the conversation either with himself or with his faithful dog.

- What difference does it make to us whether we get a guest today or not? Today is Saturday. We'll steam. It is necessary to prepare water, firewood.

Passing through a canopy closed on both sides, he opened the door to a small building, which outwardly did not resemble an ordinary bathhouse. The thick logs of its log house and the impressive size of the room were more suitable for a residential building. And this was the first dwelling of a retired officer. He spent several years in it, before a real Siberian hut was built with the help of a childhood friend. Now he was most often here all Saturday and Sunday. Without deviating from the usual routine of a past life, at the end of the week he cleaned his household, then left here. A simple wash took little time, but he steamed thoroughly, sometimes until late at night. Here he spent the night, on a wide bench in the dressing room. Enjoyed the damp heat, drank tea, read, wrote.

Today everything went according to the same plan. But, perhaps, much more water was prepared. And it wasn't easy. In winter, the descent to a small but swift river became dangerous. Covered with snow, it was washed away from below by a stream that did not freeze even in the most severe frosts. In order not to fall into an ice trap, Tretyakov threw a bucket on a long rope, standing far from the shore. In this way, it was possible to get drinking water from the river. And for all other needs, snow had to be melted. Luckily, he didn't have to go far. It's not easy, but it took a lot of time. Time after time, going out into the street, cutting out another cube of snow from a packed snowdrift, he did not stop thinking about what he had heard from the forester. Aloud, he continued an endless discussion of his thoughts with the faithful Altai.

- What kind of person will come to us? Why is he here? But, probably, it is necessary ... Why would Gushchin help him then? BUT? What do you think?

Altai peered into the man's face, as if realizing that the conversation was being serious, sometimes he made some vague sounds. Oddly enough, this helped Tretyakov to comprehend the news. So sometimes people support a friend just by listening to him.

Finally, the large tank was filled to the brim with melt water. After examining once more bundles of firewood, birch brooms, juniper branches over the entrance to the bathhouse, Tretyakov returned to the house. Taking the stew out of the oven, setting aside an impressive portion for Grozny, a little less for Altai, and the most modest one for himself, he sat down at the table. The day has crossed the middle. A couple more hours, and the sun will complete its daily journey across the sky, disappearing behind the forest-covered top of the mountain. Taking a book, Tretyakov lay down on a makeshift bed, Altai perched nearby. It was Tretyakov's favorite hour in the taiga life. But today he couldn't read. Soon the book fell out of his hands, he fell into a dream.

***

Matvey Vlasovich at that time was still walking. Having overcome another significant segment of the path, he again took a break. He was about to admit to himself that he had little strength left. Even if the most difficult was left behind, there was no certainty that he would be able to go through the windbreak until nightfall in order to get to the rocky descent to the river, and then cross over it. As he finished his last smoked lard sandwich, he thought about it. The option of spending the night in the winter forest was discussed back in the forestry. It was not the most pleasant, but still better than wandering with the last of your strength through the night taiga. The decision had to be made now, in order to choose a place for the night even in the light, to shovel the snow under the fire, collect dry wood for it, and break the spruce branches. Taking out a map, Butakov estimated how much he still had to go. At that moment, something indistinct flashed to the right, where thickets of some kind of bushes began, then giving way to a dense forest. On the alert, Matvey Vlasovich reached for the rocket launcher, lying in his bosom. He listened, but did not catch any sounds. He got up and looked around. And suddenly I felt a surge of strength. As if there was no weakness in the legs a minute ago, an unpleasant trembling in the body. Aloud he said his usual:

- And what, you still nothing, there are strengths. You will reach!

And in fact, he overcame the windbreak much easier than he expected. Maybe also because there was little snow in this place. Every now and then on the way from under it appeared red glades. Last year's foliage, which did not absorb moisture, sometimes even rustled underfoot. It was in such places that it seemed that he was walking along a path left by someone. The feeling of someone's gaze, if not in the back, then from somewhere on the side, did not leave. Sometimes the eye caught a slight shadow among the trees where they parted slightly. This aroused the desire to stop, take a closer look, finally realize whether there is a real reason for concern or whether this is a consequence of long tension. But time was running out. Therefore, he walked without stopping, without slowing down and without taking his hands off the rocket launcher. In the depths of his soul, he was fully aware that today his experience would be useful only there, where obedience of muscles, speed of reaction is not needed. Therefore, I ordered myself to concentrate, to drive away thoughts that are now useless. Perhaps this helped to quickly cross the forest, go down the slope to the river. The last leg of the journey remained. Somewhere very close, on the other side, Tretyakov lives. But it was here that his luck left him. Butakov carefully looked around the river. At first glance, it was clear that crossing the ice here was dangerous or, more precisely, impossible at all. In some places it was washed away by a strong current, in some places polynyas were already outlined. Dropping heavy things, he walked along the coast towards a steep descent. Dark porous spots were visible everywhere. Tretyakov lives on the other side. But it was here that his luck left him. Butakov carefully looked around the river. At first glance, it was clear that crossing the ice here was dangerous or, more precisely, impossible at all. In some places it was washed away by a strong current, in some places polynyas were already outlined. Dropping heavy things, he walked along the coast towards a steep descent. Dark porous spots were visible everywhere. Tretyakov lives on the other side. But it was here that his luck left him. Butakov carefully looked around the river. At first glance, it was clear that crossing the ice here was dangerous or, more precisely, impossible at all. In some places it was washed away by a strong current, in some places polynyas were already outlined. Dropping heavy things, he walked along the coast towards a steep descent. Dark porous spots were visible everywhere.

Butakov stopped, whistled through his teeth, and said only one word aloud:

- Rotten.

- So in Siberia, already melted ice is often called. Most dangerous. Trying to find a ferry upstream was also disappointing.

Walking along the shore for another half a kilometer, Matvey Vlasovich wearily sat down on a tree trunk, which had been blown down by the wind. Again he had a choice. Look for help or spend the night here so that tomorrow morning I can look for a safe crossing. If only he could survey the surroundings from above. Only in this way would it be possible to understand where a person could choose a place to live. From here, from the very bottom of the gorge, only the tops of the mountains and the sky were visible, in which the first stars were already twinkling.

Oh, old man, you'll have to stomp back on the slope!

With annoyance, Matvey Vlasovich was ready to say a lot more to himself, but there was no time. Leaving his rucksack and snowshoes on the shore, but not forgetting his gun and rocket launcher, he began to climb the slope. Luckily, we didn't have to go far. A little further from the path he had just descended, rose several sun-bleached boulders. Who knows where, how and when they got here. But most importantly - they made it possible to view from a height. But, having hardly climbed the highest boulder, Butakov did not find any signs of human habitation. And from here only the forest and low mountains were visible. I had to go down. He drove a strong whirlwind, threatened to throw him to the ground. It was he who woke up in the old geologist that very instinct that more than once helped him survive in Siberia.

Standing on a huge stone, the same age as bygone eras, he breathed in the air of the taiga, "listened to the wind." Now he felt in it a faint smell of human habitation, a faint hint of smoke, the aroma of food cooked in the oven. But this was enough for an experienced Siberian to understand that the house he longed for was very close, most likely on a high hill, surrounded on all sides by a forest.

***

Tretyakov woke up from a deep sleep as if someone had put a hand on his shoulder. The first thing he noticed was that the pillow was damp. That hasn't happened in a long time. Since then, when he finally stopped being afraid to sleep, so as not to see the faces of his children in a dream, not to wake up from the sound of his muffled sobs. In reality, he did not cry even at the funeral. Petrified, as people said. May be. Or maybe because he could not believe in the reality of what was happening. But sleep removed all barriers, grief tore the heart. After many months of fruitless struggle with dreams, he relented. And, oddly enough, it got easier. The tears shed at night made his life more tolerable. First, he learned to live with pain, and then, gradually, the fear of the night also disappeared.

What happened to him today? He could neither remember it nor shake off the thought of the coming change in his life. Finally waking up, I thought about the message about the imminent visit of a stranger. Getting out of bed, he went to the window. Grozny, having left his usual place under a canopy, walked slowly around the territory. Apparently not the first time. His numerous footprints remained in the shallow snow.

Throwing on his jacket, Yuri left the house. Little has changed around. Only the wind got stronger and more insistently played with the tops of centuries-old trees. They answered him with a dissatisfied rumble. Grozny, seeing the owner, did not approach him, as usual, but froze for a minute, then turned his whole body towards the river. He listened. Tretyakov did the same. But nothing caught his attention . And he took up the usualSaturday chores. He went into the bathhouse, lit the stove, then returned to the house, filled Grozny's bowl to the brim with warm stew with meat, and took it out into the street. But even the smell of food did not attract the attention of the dog. He was still wary. The owner wanted to whistle him, call him to him, but at that moment a signal rocket took off into the sky. Someone on the other side of the river asked for help. Before the first rocket, having described an arc in the sky, fell to the ground, leaving a short hissing trail in the air, a new signal illuminated the twilight. Having determined the direction, Yuri took the dogs and headed towards the river.

***

Less than half an hour later, Matvey Vlasovich saw a man and two dogs coming down the hill. It could only be Tretyakov.

- Finally! I thought I'd be here all night long!

A sigh of relief escaped his chest. After all, he had almost come to terms with the idea of ​​the forthcoming lodging for the night under the open sky .Deftly leaving his shelter between the boulders, which partly protected him from the wind, he walked down. On the way to the river, I again felt someone's eyes on my back. He turned around several times, trying to see something behind him, but to no avail. And soon all his attention switched to the one who was shouting something to him on the opposite bank. But the wind carried his words away. Finally, Tretyakov gestured to Butakov at the trees growing among the bushes. Not sure that he understood everything correctly, Matvey Vlasovich nevertheless headed towards them, with difficulty pushing his way through the thickets. Only coming close to the pines, I saw the poles. A good four meters long, in places they were tied with rope bundles. Apparently, the poles have not been used for a long time. It took a lot of effort to drag them to the very edge of the ice. laid out on the shore, they turned into a kind of flooring. Matvey Vlasovich never had to use such structures, but their meaning was clear. With their help, crossing the ice became safer. Now it only remained to choose a place where the ice had not yet lost its blue color, which means it was more reliable. With the help of Tretyakov, it was discovered not far away, where the riverbed became deeper, the current slightly slowed down the pressure and the ice still had not lost its strength.

***

An hour later, when twilight finally thickened and only the moon and stars illuminated the road, the men, accompanied by dogs, reached the hut. Already on the way to her, Butakov could not hide his admiration.

- Yes, this is the best place to live! I wish I could live here!

The house itself was no less impressive. But Tretyakov did not give the opportunity to discuss it for a long time.

- Get undressed. You need to dry your clothes. If you are very hungry, then you can first have a snack, then go to the bath, and only after it - dinner, - he suggested to the guest.

Butakov listened to himself. Surprisingly, after such a busy day, he did not feel particularly tired. The feeling of vague anxiety also disappeared. He rejoiced at the upcoming bathhouse, stroked Altai, who immediately recognized him, even tried to make friends with Grozny. He couldn't help feeling that he had been in this place before. The owner, however, was rather cold. Correct, but did not show much sincerity. Even in his former "peaceful" life, he did not get along with people very easily. At first, and in the service, he was considered rather arrogant. But, if someone became his friend, then he could always count on his shoulder. Now he least of all was looking for new acquaintances. He himself honestly admitted himself callous. I was not going to open my heart for an unexpected guest either. But this did not overshadow the joy of Matvey Vlasovich. After all, he only now finally realized that the goal to which he had been striving so much was very close. Now only a little time separates from it. A meeting with someone who will help him find answers to questions took place. He was in no hurry to break Tretyakov's "chill".

“Nothing, nothing! You yourself have not yet understood that you and I are "of the same blood." We will understand each other. You just have to understand."

As if not noticing anything, he hastily had a snack, drank a glass of tea and followed Yuri into the bathhouse. Under a canopy, one side of which adjoined the rock, his gaze automatically fixed something strange - it seemed to be polished by some giant tool.