1

           No, Ajsha had not been startled of the dark surrounding her from everywhere. She hated it, cursed it but wasn’t afraid of it. It was a nasty cold night outside; its sticky dampness penetrated the cellar. It stank of must and decay. That smell of smolder had called up the dreadful occurrences of the day with special emphasis. Ajsha was beating against the cellar walls in despair.

-    How did it all happen? Poor me! –she wailed.

The walls were squeezing. It seemed to her that she was lying at the bottom of a deep vault with no way out. The deathful stillness! The cell was lost in the outlandish steppe; not a soul around. The dark shadow of the night had wrapped everything. How long would the night continue? Ajsha lost the feeling of time... What if she had been thrown there forever and being lifeful and young she would die there in terrible loneliness?

Ajsha felt sorry for herself; she had weakened and couldn’t hold back tears flooding from her eyes.

-    Damned!

Hatred enforced her and again she began vehemently searching on the floor. How many times she had palpated every top; she seemed to could have found a needle but the revolver had disappeared. Ajsha was completely lost; she stopped searching and stood up. The door! If she could find the door! Somewhere up there glimmered faint light... But what if it only seemed to her? What if it was lighted up by her born-again hope? The window? But it had to be in a completely other place. And there was another thin spinning thread of dim light. Was not it going from the door? But the door appeared to be more to the left... No, was not on the left either! Everything had flipped over in that damned cellar, in that dark! The gloom played hide-and-seek with her. What a cruel and dreadful game!

Ajsha closed her eyes and decided to  confide in her arms. They came across a wet slippery balk supporting the ceiling. Then the woman stumbled at a brick pile. Bypassing the brick she suddenly stepped into emptiness and fell down into a pit. The noise of her own fall frightened Ajsha so much that she had nearly fainted; it seemed to her that the enemy had broken into the cellar and as a wild animal attacked her.

- So you came, damned!- she cried hiding her head with hands.

But it was still silent and dark around... Ajsha collected herself: everything needed to be considered; the cellar construction had to be recollected. Overcoming the tricky game of the dark she tried to imagine the surroundings.  The light coming from the split helped her. It was clear already – that was the door. Clear?..

Carefully, on all fours Ajsha crawled to the split. Finally she touched the wall and protecting the head with hands tried to straighten.  She managed to squeeze between the sparse floorboards. Searching with her hand on the wall she fumbled the door, climbed up and grabbed the door handle.

«Oh,- she thought,- this pitiful broken handle is like a rescue hand for me now».

Having stepped back Ajsha remembered: «Let’s see, this is where I fell down... Poor father! It’s no use to expect help from him...

He always makes a fool of himself and lets others down. Why has he meddled? Why? It is for a reason said: if a fly goes between two camels – it’ll be squashed by their sides».

Hot with overwhelming rage Ajsha stepped thoughtlessly and again fell down with a bang into pit. It was hard to go over those boards without a light even during the day, leave alone the night!

Falling, Ajsha unwittingly stretched her arms but to no effect - there was nothing to catch hold of. She fell on her back, painfully hitting her right blade against something hard. But having figured out what it was she cried gladly:

- Thank God! Well, I am a human again!

With a hot hand she grabbed then lying under her back revolver, kissed the cold steel all over and folded to breast... There you are, my friend!

Ajsha slowly and carefully climbed up.  

«Well hubby, dear, come on! Where are you? This time we will meet!.. Where has he gone?»

Ajsha took hold of the door handle, merely pushed the door by her shoulder making it open unexpectedly easy. However the second door in the seni[1] turned out to be firmly closed. Flattening herself against the wall Ajsha heard the upcoming horse clatter and somebody’s exciting voices. She darted back, shut the cellar door and frozen in waiting.

...Way back in the morning she was so carefree and happy! It was so fine for her to work at the collective farm! And this is it, the end of a free-wheeling life, the end of everything! The abyss was staring at Ajsha. She simply had to hold over that steeper.

«I swear I won’t go with you,- she whispered passionately,- I don’t want to live in your world!»

Ajsha clenched the revolver in hand. She had been holding it for the first time in her life but intuition told her how to handle it.  Yes, she would shoot; she would kill the hateful man. Ajsha lifted her arm. Having forgotten about everything in the world, she only thought of how to shoot.

«Well, you collective farm shock-worker, show what you can do! The enemy is approaching. Defend yourself! »

The long dress was hindering her and she kilted it with the left hand. Then she snatched off the kerchief falling over her eyes.  

The horsemen had approached. She heard them getting off their horses. Now they were coming up to the door.

Standing behind the second door Ajsha was peering with the left eye into the split.  The revolver monocular muzzle was directed the same way.

She heard the scrape of the drawn bolt... Now they would appear... It was time!

  Her legs were sinking under her. With a huge effort of will she made herself stand steadily. Her heart was furiously pumping from tension. The agitation, fear and impatience merged into one powerful feeling; it dinged in her ears; someone’s voice fancied to her, saying: «Quicker, quicker!..»

The door creaked; someone looked inside. It was him! Yes, it was his hat! He turned up, after all!

Ajsha   instantaneously pulled the trigger. Fire broke into the dark of seni. But Ajsha didn’t hear the shot. It seemed to her that she hadn’t even aimed...

Outside there was noise and scream but   the voices were merging and Ajsha couldn’t figure out clearly. «Perhaps, he’s alive...»

She shot again; at random and screwing up her eyes. Again she heard some voices. She tried to scream as well but the droughty throat did not produce any sound.  She strained her throat again and again and finally a shout broke through:

-    You will take me only dead! You won’t have me alive! I will not go after you!

Ajsha shot again. Someone cried out... The man in the door disappeared... he seemed to have fallen. Blood was humming in the temples... Rumble, clang, screams...

-    So, you want to catch me! There you have!

Being convulsed with anger she was pressing the trigger – no sound, no light. «What’s the  matter? Why is there no fire?»-she thought feverishly jerking the trigger again. It cracked in vain: there was no more ammunition.

-    Poor me!- Ajsha groaned.

As if a pack of dogs tracing the gain there was heard lament behind the door. Now Ajsha could clearly understand the voices. Someone was shouting loudly:

-    He has run out of the  bullets! Go and seize him.

Ajsha sprang back nearly falling down again. But she managed to catch hold of the balks supporting the ceiling and firmly flattened herself against the wall... The door opened squawking.

-    Damned!- Ajsha shouted loudly, peering into its hole.

She was trembling all over – her teeth did not meet; her disordered hair was falling over the face; her eyes seemed to jump out of its orbits any moment. She was dazzled with light that had suddenly flashed. She saw and despairing wail came out of her chest.

Khasen was the first one to break into; pale and with a drawn face. His teeth were tightly compressed. There was blood dripping from the fingers of his left hand.

Following him Ajsha saw the manager of the farm, Samat, and the collective farmer Dametken... She was ashamed to look into their eyes and she lowered her head.

-    Dark is your soul!- Khasen shouted hoarsely.- I trusted you! And you are hanging with our enemy. This is who your husband is!

His voice was walloping from rage; a long knife blade shining in the right hand. Khasen rushed to Ajsha. She obeyingly and blindly moved towards him. Her widened from horror eyes were full of tears. With somewhat dull, as if faded voice, she just managed to whisper:

-    My darling, I’ve mistaken...- and immediately, as if being shot, she fell to the ground.

Khasen had savagely wiped with the knife but he was grabbed by the arms. Vainly he was trying to wrest out:

-    Let me go!

Somebody brought him down smoothly and commandingly:

-    Wait! Something is wrong here.

Samat pushed Khasen away and leant over Ajsha.

 

 

2

 

It happened on June 22, at midnight in a sheep farm area of collective farm «Taldyuzek». The collective farm was situated far from the regional center and close to the boundary.

The cellar where Ajsha languished served for storing butter and cheese during the summer sheep walk. It was the only building in the far-flung steppe.

It was Shaltyk who had stirred the trouble. There was not any person in the collective farm who did not know that stooped old man with grey beard and a grey wrinkled face! Safeguarding the cellar he used to lie at its door. So he did the last night.

The nights of Taldyuzek were cold. Neither in winter nor in summer did Shaltyk take off the warm hat with ear-flaps; that day he also kept his head in warmth but the low back was in cold. Nevertheless, the old man had been woken up not only but that. He awoke in inexplicable fear... He heard some strange noises: either demonic wail or the signing of ghosts. He had narrated about that night afterwards many times; about how he sprang frightened not understanding where the sounds were coming from.

The edge of the steppe lightened a bit. Shaltyk kept his ears open: that was nothing but the wolves.

Shaltyk was not the man of courage; he himself had confessed to it. Indeed, what kind of courage could an old lonely man have? That’s why he climbed the cellar roof grabbing his ragged gown and a fur coat,-God forbid, the wolves might take them away!

Having settled at the roof he lifted the right ear-flipper of his warm hat (he trusted more his right ear) and straining the ears he was considering where those wolves were. But the wail either died away or was heard more distinct; it was impossible to define where it was coming from.

«So what?- Shaltyk comforted himself.- Will I be catching them by their tails or what? They won’t come here anyway – it’s summer now. No matter how hungry they are, they’ll be afraid to attack a man».

- Hey! Ajt, ajt!- he wailed formidably and even stamped his foot... The wail tailed away and the old man threw off reserve completely; he decided to come down from the roof and lie at his place to sleep. But as soon as he began climbing down the wolves wailed very close. He helplessly shook his head and shrugged his shoulders from amazement. A weird thing – the whole pack wailed but there was no wolf to see.

«I think I should remain on the roof and sleep there,»- he thought and the very moment the roof under him crackled. Here is the warning: go away.

«It might fall flat, damned! Oh, I wish you were dead, each and every! They wail and wail... Do you think there is a fat tail prepared for you in the cellar? There you go, stuff yourself!»

As a sign of the greatest contempt he clapped his skinny buttocks and shook his leather trousers.

When he was young Shaltyk already met a wolf. He was riding on horseback and from the cheegrass thickset there leapt out an old pack leader the size of a bud. Shaltyk directed the horse against him and ran along the flavescent afar hills. Afterwards, having unstrapped the stirrup from the saddle, at full tilt he killed the animal with one stroke.

Reminiscence of the past had encouraged Shaltyk and groaning he climbed off the roof, lay at the cellar entrance and fell asleep.

The sun had already risen when he woke up. It was silent in the steppe but from the cellar there were heard some strange noises and fuss... Those could be only the wolves; attracted with the scent of food they   contrived and got into the cellar; all in all, the door was opened!

Groaning, Shaltyk hardly managed to stretch his asleep back; he crawled closer to the door, shut it and pressed it with all his weight. «Well, you  ugly animal, let’s see who will eat whom: you - Shaltyk or Shaltyk - you!»

The old man grabbed the end of pole and supported the door; then he went round the cellar and peered into the dim window.

It was dark in the cellar and he had to peer for a long time until he saw two wolves messing in the pit; the ground was simply scudding from under them. Shaltyk     had a fright of his life; he checked the firmness of the closed door and ran to the collective farm.

When he knocked on the window of the vice-chairman Katpa, the sun had been already striking down. But the freckled Katpa was still in the grip of dream. He nearly opened one eyes; the other, the closed one, was still having dreams. Half-naked he finally came up to the door and scratching the leg sniffed angrily:

-     Hey you, old crumb, are you out of your mind or what? Why are you knocking?

-     Oh, Katpa, my friend!.. Here is the thing – I had to shut two wolves in the cellar... So, I came to tell you... Two, do you understand? Two of them!

Katpa refused even to listen.

-     And that’s it? You have completely cracked your brains!- shouted he and  closed the door before Shaltyk.

-     Just listen!.. Those are wolves! Two wolves!.. You need to send somebody... Two of them!..

-     So tell Zhunus; let him go!- Katpa snipped away and went catching up with his sleeping.

Grievously shaking his head and murmuring: «But there are two wolves... two», Shaltyk went further. He woke up Besenbaj and Sadyk from the scythe man brigade. At first they growled but when Shaltyk referred to Katpa’s order they went saddling. Over his mare Sadyk saddled also Shaltyk behind him.

The horsemen hurried the horses – they were so excited to see the wolves sooner. They rode so fast that Shaltyk started groaning – his buttocks were grazed...

At last there was the cellar. Having armed with poles, everyone came up to the narrow window.  The glass in it turned out to be shattered. They looked inside – the wolves had vanished into thin air.

-   Uh oh, Shaltyk, bloody hell!.. You have interrupted our dream for vain. Where are your wolves?

Shaltyk moaned in reply. Perhaps he was ashamed; perhaps his back indeed hurt. He squirmed all over and groaning, began massaging his low back.

-    Oh, oh, my poor low back! I am not able to straighten myself!.. What a bad luck,- I guess the wolves have jumped over me... Oh, oh, the back!..

The scythe men winked to each other. Everything was clear: he was sleeping at the threshold and of course the wolves have jumped over him. What else could they do? Now, according to the folk belief, he would never be able to unbend.

Shaltyk was gladly consenting. Having seated himself cozily, he began narrating his night adventures in detail.

-    See, they have run away, damned... And moreover, what they have done! Oh, the low back! I have shut them in with these very hands. And they have leaped over me! Truly they say: if a poor gets some meat the nosebleed will kill him... Those devils have jumped over and crippled me late in life!..

And in rage Shaltyk hammered his fists against the cellar door.

Besanbaj and Sadyk broke with laughter. Seeing them coming off their horses Shaltyk wailed:

-       Oh, oh, ask the chairman to send somebody. I cannot move a foot... They have jumped over, damned.

-       We will, we will... And if you do catch a wolf, grab it by its tail and don’t let go!

Shaltyk was lying on the grass and the sun was warming his back. He felt his back almost not hurting. But he continued to be angry with the wolves. The afternoon had passed and the day began to decline but he still shook his head and grumbled:

-   I have shut them in and those devils broke the window... leapt over... they thought I wouldn’t get up anymore...

Endlessly repeating the same, he was convincing himself that it had been just like that.

The evening came but no-one arrived. The old man began to be overwhelmed with anxiety at the thought of the forthcoming night. Suddenly he heard the horse clatter. There on a ginger mare galloped his daughter Ajsha. Anxiety had vanished, as if by magic, and the talkative old man began to jabber:

-      Have you heard the news about the wolves? What harm they have made!..

-      As soon as I returned from the second cellar,- Ajsha interrupted her father jumping out of the saddle and racking it to a side,- I am told that you have fallen ill; the wolves frightened you or so... That is why they sent me to        enquire what was going on with you; and to look into the cellar and see if everything is all right...

Shaltyk took the real offence: so it was that way - for the collective farm neither he nor the cellar made the difference... The old man frowned and snorted:

-    And look what is going to the bad in your empty pit!

     Ajsha smiled.

A woman of medium height; plump, strong-built and tough, she was pretty in her own way. On her sooty face through the touch of tan there came the crimson. Dark eyes shone with intelligence and kindness.

-    Father, don’t be angry,- Ajsha said tenderly looking at him.- Katpa was hastening very much, just urging: faster, faster!.. He even gave me a revolver. If you are coming back at night, he says, it might become useful...

The woman showed father the revolver and Shaltyk frightenedly drew the muzzle aside.

-    Is it loaded? Hide it aside... So that is what kind of man Katpa is! He cares for me; what a nice man. Put that thing away, please, will you?

Ajsha brought some tea, sugar and bread for her father.

It was getting dark; Ajsha had to prepare herself for the return and she hurried to the cellar. In the shadow she examined the empty tubs and piled into corner cheese boilers. Just as she headed to the exit, she heard the horse clatter.

Standing at the cellar door, Shaltyk faced the visitors and through his shoulder Ajsha saw a horseman on a beautiful chestnut pacer. The horse was in lather all over – obviously he had covered a considerable way. After him there galloped a few more men; someone on roan, someone on grey and ginger horses. And – it is a strange thing – their faces where covered with neckerchiefs till the very eyes and under the knee each of them had a gun clutched.

Ajsha’s heart faltered from a horrible  presentiment. Quietly she half-opened the door and couched at the threshold. It was dark in the cellar, as if in a grave.

The horsemen dismounted and took their guns. One of them remained in the saddle and took over the leading reins from the rest.

Shaltyk stood motionless; inside him everything was petrified.  Who were those frightful strangers? What did they want from a helpless old man?

-   My honest gentleman, who are you?- he jabbered.

 Skinny horseman, the one to drive up first, pointed at Shaltyk and shouted:

-   Kulaajgyr!

A thick squatty man with such name in a minute brought the old man low, set over his chest,          drew a knife and passed it across the bootleg. Afterwards he flicked high with the knife and  held it to Shaltyk's neck.

-   So far as you are alive, speak! From what collective farm are you? Who else is here?

No matter how frightened he was, Shaltyk knew they would not kill him.  They did not need him.

-   I’m from «Taldyuzek» collective farm. What do you want?

Noticing that the old man was not at a loss, Kulaajgyr squeezed his shoulders and shook; then again he waved with the knife in front of him.

-     Who are you? Answer immediately!

-     I’m an old safeguard; I ward this empty pit. My name is Shaltyk.

The skinny one pulled the Kulaajgyr and Shaltyk was helped to sit.

Having calmed down, Shaltyk tried to  bring the conversation around to a peaceful topic.

-   My surname is Kabygyn,- he added, although no-one asked him.

No attention was paid to his words.  Kulaajgyr approached him again and asked menacingly:

-     Is it true that people who migrated from your place last year are returning to the collective farm?

-     Strict truth! A lot of them have returned and settled in...

-     And which of them are more there – altybajevtsy or zharke[2]?- commandingly the skinny interfered.

-     Well, both of the families are coming back... And you, dear, seem to know ours,- Shaltyk began to stare closely at the skinny but the latter turned away and he stopped talking.

-     «Familiar voice,- Shaltyk thought,- it reminds me of someone»,- but he couldn’t remember whom. Kulaajgyr continued his enquiry:

-     So what do those new collective farmers say? Do they have sufficient? Are they satisfied?

-     We have a large collective farm and it is rich... Much milk... Everyone was given cows and sheep. People live as others do. The one who toils - does well. They have no-where to go now.

-     Are you, old man, doing well here alone in this bare steppe?.. You can’t be satisfied with such life.

-     To tell you the truth, I do not complain...

-     And do you have everything sufficient?

-     Well, it could be better with the clothes. They do not give it out. And I, my dear, have toiled a great deal... I have dug this cellar alone and now alone I ward it... But I have got nothing to put on. I have worn out all the clothes; only holes; look, what a shabby gown, I have had it from the old times already... No matter whom you tell they promise – you will get it there and then but give nothing... I do not even know what our Ivan Sergenbajev is thinking of...

The talkative old man sat on his ridge and was about to chat till the morning but one of the silent till now strangers broke Shaltyk off.

-     Are you alone here?- he asked nasally, clearly changing his voice – Perhaps there is someone in your cellar.

-     Who should be here?- the old man replied without stumbling.- I myself am a guard; should anyone safeguard me?

-   -- Do not lie!

-   Let you have the bad luck if I lie! No-one is here!

The old man liked that cunning saying so much that he repeated it with a taste once:

-   Let you have the bad luck!

The strangers kept silent and taking advantage of the pause Shaltyk began narrating about the yesterday’s night adventures:

-   But yesterday I was not alone. The bad guests visited me. At night two wolves jumped over me and so I cannot even move a foot; I lie here as if shot. My low back hurts and I am not even able to go to the collective farm and bring some food... Such things happen.

Shaltyk, as if it was hard and awkward, tried to turn and groaned touching his low back.

The visitors impatiently interrupted him:

-   Is it true that you have good sheep and goats here in the collective farm? A lot? What is the yield? Where do they water?

Especially thoroughly they were asking about the camels: were there twenty or twenty five of them? Where did they graze on? Where did they stay at night? The collective farm could not be holding a separate shepherd for them? How many horses in-foal were there? They were impatient to know even that.

Shaltyk was replying gladly at first sight. The yield was good, great deal of cattle, the colts were healthy... But the questions about pastures and camping he avoided as much he could: «I’m here all the time, in this deserted steppe... how should I now...» He felt that it was not by chance.

The darkness fell. Standing aside skinny one approached Shaltyk within a hair's breadth:

-     Listen, old man, we will not hurt you. Forget about our rudeness; it was just in the heat of the moment... We are also locals and want to return. Be a good soul, climb that ginger mare and ride to the collective farm, to your boss, what is his name?

-     Our chairman went for the assembly and vice- chairman is Katpa.

-     Good, then go to that  Katpa and tell him: the locals have returned and want to have a talk; they want to tell about who they are and what they want  to be accepted back to the collective farm. Tell him, we should meet... But tell that only in person and bring the answer. Will you?

-   Well, my  dear, I will.

Groaning, Shaltyk stood up and murmured, touching his low back:

-   Oh, how they have jumped over, damned!..

And while the strangers were talking over half-silent, the old man minced to the cellar, hesitated for a moment and rushed there. There was        impenetrable darkness in the cellar.

-   Where are you?- he whispered.- Did you hear what was happening? Those must be the enemies.

Searching in the air with his arms he moved forward but his leg slipped across the board and he fell into the pit. Falling, he pushed Ajsha and knocked her down. When that happened she dropped her revolver and got into rage.

-   What have you done, you miserable? You my bad luck!

In the search of revolver Ajsha harshly raked around but the revolver as if disappeared. Having pressed to the very ear of the old man she whispered:

-      Enemies? What people are they?

-      How should I know? Their faces are closed.

-   Oh, damn you! Who is that, who? And why do they need Katpa? What is Katpa for?

Ajsha was lost in guesses, her thoughts were mixing.

-    I will go, otherwise they will notice,- after a pause Shaltyk said. Hardly had he reached the door as a match was stricken in front of his nose and the dazzling light in that dark lighted the face of an old acquaintance - Sugur.

It was the very same skinny, who was the first to approach the cellar. Obviously he had noticed the old man entering inside and quietly followed him. Having crouched inside he overheard the whisper from the pit... And here was Ajsha in front of him. So, he came in time. Everything could not be better.

Striking the match he was staring into her face.

-   As people say – meeting with zhenge[3] promises luck, -he said smiling.- I did not even think I would have such luck!

Ajsha had already collected herself. Her face was strict and calm.

-     And you have ran away to try me out, right?

-     Oh no! But why are you here if you have not waited for me? Maybe, by the will of Allah; and it is he who brings you back to me.

-     I have gone to decent people, Sugur! You did not want that and ran away... We are through with you!

-     No-o, darling. I have galloped here with death risk from the very China not for that. That is a mug's game! My honesty is dear to me and while I am alive my wife will be by my side!

There walloped rage in his voice.

-     You have  disgraced me! If you do not obey, I will talk the other way.

-    Of course, Sugur! We had hard times with father, going around, dying... Finally we have found our place in the collective farm... We were given a job and I will not go anywhere from here! I have a husband, the same toiler as I...

Sugur angrily stamped his foot and sharply cut Ajsha:

-    Whoever heard of a woman from zharke gender abandoning her living husband for a dirty altybajevets? The host has come - the servant must disappear. I am your husband! Come to your senses! If he just pokes here, he will become a eunuch immediately!

Sugur’s voice sounded menacingly.  Shaltyk still tried to push Ajsha towards him but she fobbed off...

-    Leave me...

Shaltyk turned coward completely and spoke quickly-quickly:

-    Drat it! Don’t you see who is in front of you? I have married you to him, he is your husband and you belong only to him!..

But closing her face with hands Ajsha, obstinately insisted:

-    I’d rather die but not return to you... no way! No, no!

And losing her last energy, she slowly went down on the floor.

Sugur took Shaltyk away from the cellar, shut the door and called his companions. They started enquiring the old man again.  Finally Sugur sat him over the ginger mare and moving aside, told him confidently:

-      You now, aqsaqal[4], I am your devoted son.  I have come here in hope to find the native here, but it seems to me everyone is against me. And my foremost archenemy is Katpa. But you can see it yourself – I have nowhere to lay my head... He is the enemy and I go to bow before him... I have come on my own, of my own will... After all, we are from one family - zharke. Perhaps they might not forgive me, but they must know that I have realized my mistake and am coming back home. Tell him that, but only him! If he takes no mercy, let him kill me with his own hand. I will be waiting for the answer here.

-      All right!- Shaltyk cut the old man  off shortly, hit the horse with the leg and galloped away. He heartened up and forgot about his low back. When the cellar was out of his sight, he slowed the horse a bit, thinking what to do. Should he go to Katpa or the other one...? Katpa was evil, he snapped, like in the morning when Shaltyk told him about the wolves... And the other one was more intelligent and kinder. Yes, better to the other one... Taking the sigh of relief he directed the horse aside and trotted to the sheep farm, to Samat.

And Sugur returned to the cellar... He remained there not for a long time, went out alone, fastened the door with a belt and also supported it with the same end of pole, which the old Shaltyk had used for protecting from the wolves. After that he came up to his companions. In full silence they vaulted into the saddle... Breaking the withered cheegrass with snap, a group of horsemen soon became invisible in the shade of night... There came silence in the valley of Taldyuzek.

 

 

3

 

 

-   Go on, step forward, move your legs. Just look how fat you became – hardly crawling, like a baj[5] wife! - shouted Berdy laughing, the brigadier of sheepmen. He even stopped to wait for Dametken, who was going with empty bucket.

His words were followed by Sataj from the third brigade and a sheepshearing mistress, Ajazhan.

-     Our Dametken is pressed to the ground not with fat, but with force, - she said laughingly.

-     And you, bony, envy her,- Sataj added.

And there came Dametken herself. A wide and calm face; confident moves.

-   Maybe I do walk slowly, but we will see who wins at the field,- she broke with laughter.

The sun had just risen. The valley of Taldyuzek was still drowsing. Not even the slightest wind. The cheegrass thickset were standing motionlessly. Especially sounding in that morning silence were the voices of humans. High up in the air the lark song was pouring.

Sheepherders, milkmaids with buckets and collective farmers being armed with scissors for sheepshearing were heading to the closest sheep barn – it was in some two hundred steps from the yurts.

That was already Dametken’s fate to be eternally poked fun at by Sataj and Berdy; but not evilly, not offensively and kindheartedly. Now they also wanted to have the last word.

-    Oh no, today, I think, you will not be able to measure strength with us today – you are too sour.

There obviously was some hint in Sataj’s words.

-    Oh, I did not get enough sleep... I stayed at school till the night.

-Well, of course, it is always the school’s fault, we understand that!- Berdy smiled.

Dametken’s husband died a year ago. She had to grow children alone and everyone knew what a good mother she was; no-one would become suspicious about her mindlessness. But why not make a joke? After all, she responded the joke willingly.

-    Really, - she continued,- my fingers do not bend, like  the wooden ones; no letters come out, and that’s it. I have been sweating at home a long while; the whole sheet of paper has been filled with writing.

Interrupting each other women talked about how difficult it was for them to deal with the writing. Even Berdy became serious.

-    Samat told us: hands are for work and head – for learning,- open your eyes widely and you will understand what life is here the collective farm.

Dametken reminded the speech of  Samat at the opening of campaign against illiteracy: «The head and hands have to  work in coordination». Although she understood the profound meaning of those words, still she was moved to laughter with a comparison that came to her mind.  

-    Just like in a fight... Right?

She     spluttered with laughter and the other women followed her as well. Only Ajazhan smiled modestly. She liked the school of campaign against illiteracy. As well as the fact that gradually everyone began studying there. Ajazhan was usually reticent and modest but when she was saying something it was always suitable for the occasion.

Even now, having pondered over Dameten’s words, she brought out her sacred thought:

-    If a man possesses some knowledge and skills, the work goes with a swing. A man by himself is a whole collective farm.

Berdy upheld her:

-      True. I would only add the following: a good collective farm is the same as a healthy body.

-      You are right,- Sataj seriously said,- for example, our farm. Its head, by the way, is Samat, and we are the body – the neck, arms and legs. Does the head boast in front of legs because of the fact that it is a head?  On the contrary, it cares for them.

-      Once again,- Dametken followed,- if you get a splinter even into pinky, the head will feel the pain and begin to cure it.

-      Yes, everyone considers his body to be dear for him,- Ajazhan continued.- Neither head nor legs will say: «I am more important...» So is our collective farm – the head and the whole body are integral.

-      Let it be alive and well! God grant it with prosperity!- exclaimed silent till that moment  a middle-aged squatty Zhamal.

She was one of those who left their native land not willing to enter the collective farm. And last winter she returned; exhausted, hungry and with a little son in her arms. She was accepted to the collective farm and there she found her happiness.

-      Do you see what women we have!- Berdy nodded.- See, what reading and writing can do!

-      That is all thanks to Samat,- Sataj joined,- he was reading newspapers, visiting the meetings of collective farmers.

-      It is not just Samat,- he said,-         look below the surface! Now we have everything in order. Back in the old days people suffered a great deal! Our nomads were starving, in cold and with their legs hurt to blood... How many people have wandered forth!

-      Let it go hang!..- the women talked noisily together.

-      We nearly perished then...

-           And here we were helped and accepted as the native ones... Berdy lifted his arms as if he was going to deliver a speech; his voice sounded solemnly.

-   Today, we, the former poor possess four thousand sheep. But what kind of sheep! Our sheep are the best ones in the whole district! Moreover, everyone has five of them in their household. Is there anyone who does not have their own cow? Only the idlers. Indeed, when the head is at its place, the body is in order!

Meanwhile there came out Khasen from behind the corner of a big barn.

-    The head is at its place; and here is our sharp collective farm eye,- Dametken, broke with laughter pointing at him.

And women spluttered with laughter: a hefty well-grown fellow and suddenly he was an eye.

-    Of course eye! He wards our farm!- Ajazhan said.

Khasen looked at her bewildered. What were they talking about?  

-    We discuss our things, whether you wards us well,- Dametken said and went to the barn.

Khasen went after her. He turned out to wait for the brigadiers; he wanted to examine the cattle with them.

Behind the fence one could hear discordant bleat of the sheep. It sounded monotonously as if the sheep insistently were repeating the same question or claim.

Goatlings and lambs were replying the sheep with a thready sonorous bleat.

This was how there, at the sheep farm of collective farm «Taldyuzek» began the same morning when Shaltyk shut the wolves in his steppe cellar. 

Khasen, Berdy and Sataj proceeded with the examination of cattle; Dametken and other milkmaids tied the milch goats and sheep to a bow. Ajazhan was sharpening the scissors for the sheepshearing.

There were many highbred white goats and sheep in the herd of collective farm – Karakul and Lincoln ones. They were known for their fertility and plenty of fat milk. That milk was not used for bryndza anymore as it was usually before but for the best kinds of cheese – the Dutch and Tilsit ones.

The hostess of cheese factory was Ajsha; she was responsible for the supervision of cellars.

Today Ajsha was at the central farm sending ready cheese to the city.

The main income of the collective farm was due to milk: sheep were milked twice a day: early in the morning before the pasturage and in the evening, after returning from the pasture...

That morning Dametken as usual began to milk in the far corner of the yard. Having successfully milked three sheep, she came up to a white goat and heart felt fain from fright: the goat’s udder had split into two parts in her hands and the goat itself was trembling from pain, sinking on its stern.

Having looked at it closer, Dametken screamed piercingly: the udder turned out to be dissected; there came milk mixed with blood out of it. At Dametken’s scream there ran up other milkmaids. «My dear ones, what is this? What a bad luck!»- they exclaimed embarrassedly.

Dametken silently began examining all the goats and sheep in her range. The others followed her example. Now and then it could be heard:

-      Oh my! This one also has this!

-      Who could have done that?!

-      I wish they died, bastards...

-      What a grief...

-      How unfortunate...

-      Someone’s hostile hand has lacerated thirty milch goats and sheep!

Zhamal was sobbing:

-      God , what on earth is happening here?

-      Stop the lamenting,- Dametken cut her off.- Hey, guard, where have you been?!

Khasen and Sataj were looking around and counting bucks. Aside there were standing two Karakul ones with dangling sterns. The herd was just coming out of the barn. Khasen and Sataj with all their eyes were looking at a big grey buck; it was hardly moving, dragging its stern. Seeing that, Sataj grabbed it by the nape and took it out from the herd to those two ones.  

-      What kind of disease has overcome them?- he shouted.

-      It’s not a disease...- Khasen answered keeping eyes glued on the bucks.- It seems like they have been altered!

He staggered and sat on the ground so as not to fall down. The very moment he was surrounded by shrieking women.

-       Khasen, thirty sheep have been spoiled... the udders have been dissected!

-      Those must have been the enemies...

-      I wish they had no peace even in grave, those villains!.. Being pale and depressed with Khasen the misfortune happening to them, in despair lay down on the ground and cried without wiping his tears:

-    What a grief!.. I’d rather die!

In a minute everyone knew about the misfortune. From all over there came running milkmaids and brigadiers.

-    If we could only catch the villain,- Berdy shouted shaking his fist,- We were vagrants and became people but the enemy envies. We know who it is – baj and his gang!..

The wounded animals were pitifully beating: wool on them was tangled; they were standing stooped and miserable... It was painful to look at them. Ajazhan turned away.

-      But where did the dastards came from?- she asked.

-      Where is our watch?

-      Where is the guard?

-      Who was keeping the watch tonight?- several men approached Khasen.

He was crying like a child, having embraced his head with arms and swinging as if from pain.

There appeared the farm manager Samat: slender, swarthy and handsome young man in a clean white shirt with a revolver at his side. With his light and quick step, plastic grace he reminded a young horse. Even the bristle of black stubbled hair on his head spoke of health and strength. The whole appearance of the young man and bear after all were convincing that he was a hard nut. He had proved that numerous times being always able to find a reasonable way out from the most difficult situation.

So now at the sight of smug and vigorous   Samat everyone sighed with relief.  Now he would somehow help indeed! He was flocked about and, interrupting each other, people began to tell about what had happened. What important is: he knew that on himself but listened to everyone carefully.  Afterwards he quietly examined the frames of sheepfold and only then came up to sobbing Khasen.

-      What is wrong with you? Are you a child or what? Khasen, come to your senses!- he touched him by his shoulder.

-   Leave him alone, he is heart-broken!- Dametken exclaimed. She commiserated Khasen whole-heartedly.

But it was obvious that most of the people were in a quite different mood. Collective farmers stood gloomily lowering their heads.

Suddenly there happened something quite unexpected and strange: Samat loudly broke with laughter and vigorously shook Khasen.

-   What a coward you are! What a fain-hearted man you are! I know why you are crying – you think the whole responsibility lies on you. So you should know: first of all it is me who is responsible and we all are responsible for everything, no matter what happens! And after all, we know you very well: who you are and where you are from; we don’t make any light decisions concerning such people. So now pull yourself together; what a shame... If Ajsha saw this miserable appearance, what would she say? By the way, where is she?- Samat asked addressing the women.

-   Ajsha is in the collective farm; otherwise she would have ridiculed him.

-   So, comrades, calm down and go to work. We will solve this crime... We are being intimidated and harmed not for the first time... But it’s all right, we shall manage that!

That very moment there came up running Katpa. He apparently had already been told about the incident. He was pale and big round pittings on his grey face came out even more distinct.

Katpa gloomily nodded to Samat.

-     I know everything; this could not have been done by someone alone; the whole gang is doing that!

-     You never know,- Samat shrugged his shoulders.- It is hard to define at once. It is not clear to me yet; I need to think it over...

-     «You never know»,- Katpa repeated contemptuously.- The thing is clear: there acts baj and kulak  organization and one should look here for its roots and flood their lair with water!.. Go ahead, break up and go to work! No use to discuss it now! – he dropped over his shoulder to Samat.-Sataj, Berdy, wait! Let’s talk with the active.

Katpa waited till everyone dispersed unwillingly and then, staring at Samat asked:

-      Well, to your mind, who has been acting here? Samat frowned:

-      I cannot tell anything now.

-    But all that happened at your farm. That is your personnel! What about bolshevistic vigilance? Are you going to wait until the criminals run away? The border is near... Tell, whom do you suspect?..

-    I do not now yet,- Samat obstinately claimed.

-    Oh, so you don’t know,- Katpa ironically  prolonged.-However, you are a new man here...- he noticed meaningfully and then, addressing Berdy and Sataj, added: - The one who does not want to look below the surface, creates obstacles for timely adoption of measures.

With that newspaper phrase, said impatiently and harshly, he clearly wanted to cast a shadow on Samat.

-    All right then,- Samat said, closely staring at Katpa,- you are here longer than anyone else; whom do you suspect? 

Katpa did not answer at once. Having thought, he said firmly:

-    Security chief Khasen. He’s in the gang and he has to be arrested immediately!

Samat would never expect that.

-      Really,- he said surprisingly and addressed the brigadiers:- What do you think of that?

-      I would not have the heart against him,- Sataj answered.- Khasen is a barefooted workhand who came from the masses... We ourselves have recommended him. No-one noticed anything black after him.

-      Enemies always act secretly!- Kapta interrupted him indignantly.- Times have changed and it is from the masses where they come to us.

-      Who knows,- Sataj hesitated.- One cannot look deep into everyone’s soul...

-      It should be investigated,- Berdy inserted.- It’s investigator’s work. If he turns out to be innocent, he will be acquitted.

-      I am against this!- Samat told sharply, being confident in Khasen’s complete innocence.- He arouses no suspicions. Such people as Khasen are not dispatched at once.

-      You are an opportunist!- Katpa shouted in rage. –But I know my duty and I will exercise it! I am heading for the region immediately...

Now it was Samat’s turn to fly into a tantrum:

-      And I will not allow any arbitrary actions and excesses! I will not let Khasen be arrested!

-      Big deal, excesses!.. And who but you has gathered all the bajs in the collective farm under the guise of reclaimed fugitives?! – and there spouted vile curses from Katpa’s tongue; he savagely lamented:- You, you are  covering the class enemies!.. You will answer before the government!

-      Don’t you lie!- Samat jumped.- Are you going to say that the Soviet power is closer to you than to me?!

-      Oh, damn you! Who was struggling with the bajs and eradicating them? Maybe it was you? Just wait, you crony; I will disguise you! We will get you as well.

-      Very well! Go ahead!

-    Now the case is clear; the criminal has been found! I am destroying asp holes not for the first time. Just look at him... They are twisting around, wriggling and stinging...

-    Stop lying!- Samat flashed again.

Katpa jumped up to him with a revolver in his hand. Berdy and Sataj seized the two of them but they were rushing all the time, being ready to destroy each other.

Having calmed down a bit, Katpa released from the iron arms of Berdy, jumped on horseback and galloped to the region.

Samat at once rang to the regional center. Pale and alarmed, he informed of the incident. His          interlocutor, Panshyn, was listening to him attentively, quietly and with military moderation. Having listened, he gave instructions and added:

-     The criminals, no doubt, are in the collective farm. Chances are that in two nearest days everything will clear up. Perhaps they might appear again. Watch out. Tighten the security! Inform me of events tomorrow.

Panshyn knew Samat very well; he trusted him and was in the know of the farm concerns.

Samat had precisely exercised all the instructions of Panshyn; he acted businesslike but was alarmed and bewildered. He enquired in everyone nervously:

-            Have you noticed anything suspicious? For the first time in his life he was overcome by suspicions. «What if I am mistaking? Still waters run deep, don’t they? What if I indeed have let my guard down? After all, Berdy and Sataj were confused as well. Perhaps I am also not trusted anymore... What about the rest? »

             Being torn with those thoughts Samat saw everything in a lurid light. He spent the whole day in such a state. The whole farm knew already what Katpa said about Khasen. And people avoided him, were afraid to talk to him. Khasen did not manage to talk even with Samat: that last one was too busy with his thoughts and affairs.

After dinner farm workers were drinking tea at Dametken’s place. Of course, the conversation was about the events of the day.

-      The deuce knows who is right: Katpa or Samat? The one and the other are smart,- Sataj said.

-      Katpa used to call Ajsha «my zhessir[6]»,- Dametken suddenly remembered,- and when she married Khasen, he was dissatisfied... Perhaps he bore malice in his heart.

Everyone knew that Dametken, who regarded Samat with a special respect, was at his side; besides, she trusted Khasen completely.

-   Ajsha often said - Ajazhan followed,-that Katpa was threatening: because of her betrayal she had to be put before trial... However, this is not the point now,- she added carefully.

-      Katpa is an old-timer here; he is from the very foundation of collective farm... After all, Katpa is Katpa, - Sataj meaningfully cut off.

-      Well, Katpa used to be ahorse and under it,- Dametken said thoughtfully.

-      But he is acting for sure,- Sataj  noticed.-He always has some aim in front of him. If he has something on his mind, he will not retreat until he achieves the forethought. It is better not to deal with him. How many people have failed at him and he has swollen everyone... And those people where with an attitude. Perhaps he is saying for a reason: he does know something...

People chatted and chatted but did not get the point and broke up.

The night fell. Collective farmers were going to bed. And Samat was sitting alone at his place and reading a newspaper. Suddenly he heard a horse clatter; someone approached his yurt, hurried and hit against the door. There entered Shaltyk: upset, frightened and trembling...

-   What happened?

-   Oh, a grief!- stammeringly and confusing the words,  Shaltyk began speaking.- Sugur has galloped... From the very China... he says he wants back to the collective farm... if he will be accepted... But no, oh no: he is plotting evil. There are four of them, I was struck down and threatened to be stabbed to death...

Samat, cutting the speech, took off the receiver to ring to the region. And Shaltyk did not stop talking:

-   He ordered to tell that to... Katpa himself and only him, that they used to be enemies and now were coming back voluntarily... and it was his will whether to punish them or have the mercy on. They do not hope to be begrudged but are waiting for the answer there, at the cellar. I haven’t gone to Katpa but straightly to you. Oh, my low back!-Shaltyk groaned.- Yesterday the wolves jumped over me; I’m hardly moving... But still, I came...

Meanwhile Samat was nervously tapping over the telephone set cradle: no-one answered in the region. His consciousness caught only word fragments of the old man, and the latter having no idea of a telephone, continued chatting:

-    Do you understand, dear: they haven’t let me sleep the whole night. At dawn I looked – they got into the cellar; they were jumping and stirring there... Why would I slop about with them? So I shut them in the cellar firmly-firmly...

But suddenly the telephone revived and Samat spoke into the receiver:

-    Everything as you said, the villains are near. At the second cellar, Taldyuzek... Yes, now... I know.

And Shaltyk did not stop:

-      There was Ajsha... They shut her in. Sugur is her ex-husband, you know... They have treated her sharply. Something is going to happen. What dismay!

-      I will handle that on my own,- Samat was talking over the phone,- do not worry. Although there are few of us, we will handle it... Understood!

Having hung up the receiver, Samat turned to Shaltyk and that one kept talking:

-    Seize them... If they would like to explain, let them put away their guns! They are enemies after all. It already happened several times, so we know: the horses and camels were stolen... They liked that!..

Shaltyk could not settle down, but Samat cut him off and called Khasen, Berdy, Sataj and Dametken. To his voice there also came up Ajazhan and Zhamal.

-      Comrades, the enemy has shown up!- Samat said severely. There came spilling out the exclamations:

-      Who is that, who?

-      Thank God!

-      Who is he, damned?

-      Sugur. He has galloped from China.

Everyone started noise and the talking.

 

-       Quietly, comrades, we should act. Saddle the horses! Khasen and two others will go with me. The rest of you stay here to guard the cattle; Berdy and Sataj will be among them.

-       Who are those two? If we stay here, we have no more men left,- Sataj was at a loss.

-       I am coming!- Dametken decisively said.- I will not give in to anyone! That dog Sugur will be taken off the horse with my own hand.

She grabbed a gun. The same minute Ajazhan took a gun in her hands.

-   A dog’s death for the one, who cares more for his skin than a native collective farm!- she exclaimed.

From somewhere there was heard a shout:

-   Where are the camels? No-one is at its place!

«We will find everything and return it!»- Samat sworn to himself...

Along the cheegrass thicket there galloped four horsemen. In a rush they forgot about Shaltyk; they left him at the farm. Not coming up to the cellar they silently dismounted and hitched up. Then they surrounded the cellar. Suddenly from behind the door there banged the gun.

-   Hey, who is there?- Samat shouted.- Surrender; you will  not run away anyway!

A new shooting spree was the answer. Khasen, being the closets to the door, was wounded in left arm.

-   Shoot, do not linger,- he shouted savagely.- Here are the outsiders or their  assistants!..

And suddenly they heard a female voice:

-   You will take me dead...

What was that? Was that the voice of Ajsha? Blood sprang to his head. Betrayal? So, Sugur turned up not by chance. Khasen had remembered the goats with lacerated udders and about hurt maimed bucks. And it was Ajsha’s fault for all those villaining! It is inconceivable and monstrous!

Having heard the woman’s voice, Samat, Dametken and Ajazhan put down their guns.

-   Stop shooting,- Samat shouted.- We are friends!

But the shooting continued and to everyone’s surprise Samat began counting the shots.

The gun hummer snapped two or three times but no shot followed it; there fell silence. «She has run out of ammunition»,- Samat thought. He opened the door and decisively stepped into the cellar; the others followed him. The bright eye of his jacklight  lightened the place.

What happened there further we already know.

Long had been sitting in the office of the district court the vice-chairman of the collective farm Katpa Kozhalakov and chatting with judge Sadyrov. Both of them were the most long-standing workers in the district and that bonded them. Even in movement and talking they had a lot in common. Katpa laid all his suspicions before Sadyrov. He was accusing not only Khasen but Samat as well.

-       Khasen is the figurehead, bloated activist recommended by Samat,- he said in conclusion.- When the right moment comes Samat acts through him and then, if everything fails, protects him. They live in perfect harmony... The enemies nowadays always act in that way. After all, everything is there: Khasen is married to Sugur’s ex-wife... the one who ran away... And that woman has been made a shock-worker. Ho! That one I know very well: cunning, evil and an outright snake! She would twist everyone round her little finger; she could hardly wait Sugur!.. If he just turns out, she would burn the whole collective farm at his one finger wave. So here are those, with whom Khasen and Samat communicate. Isn’t that all suspicious? The culprits of the misfortune at our farm are they. Who could have turn out there and do all that so skillfully without their assistance? No-one! I have come to you not only in duty bound but also as honest communist who worries for the collective farm wealth. Everyone suspicious in our collective farm should be arrested immediately and interrogated properly!..

The judge had been taken by storm with those arguments. Having answered a few more questions, he drew up a protocol by himself adding his supplements and called a young investigator Murat, who had recently arrived to the region. Having introduced him to the case, he said gloomily:

-    Not an instant should be delayed; take three militiamen and go ahead! Katpa goes with you.

The sun was sloping to the west when they left the regional center. They were racing with such speed that until they galloped to the farm the horses were covered with lather. Getting to know that Samat and Khasen went to the cellar, Katpa being furious as it was lost his temper. Without giving even a minute for the blown horses to rest, the arrived headed further. Katpa was thrashing the horse at full fling.

 

 

5

 

 

What had happened in the cellar when Sugur discovered Ajsha there? Using the opportunity of his leave (let us remember that he took her father away from the cellar, sending him to Katpa), she feverishly began searching the revolver again. But suddenly Sugur came back and started speaking in the tone of a husband being impatient o contradictions:

-    Ajsha, first of all, give me the gun! I’m sure you have it.

Oh, how she needed it herself; but where could she find it?!

-    What gun? I don’t have anything!

Sugur darted to her and rudely grabbed her by the arms and afterwards         obscenely touched her...

Ajsha was freezing with rage and indignation but could not do anything.

-      Listen,- Sugur said decisively.- You are my wife. I have come after you and you will return to me! Whether you want it or not, I will take you with me!

-      No,- Ajsha cut him off,- never! Our paths have diverged forever!

-      Is that your last word? Maybe, you will think it over and come to yourself?

-    No and no!

Sugur was not listening anymore. He went for her, floored her, turned out her arms and roped them at the back. Ajsha did not breathe a word.

-    You don’t want to leave your new husband, do you? I understand,- Sugur said mockingly.- Anyway, I would not take back the unfaithful wife. I’ll dispatch with you in another way. On a single occasion I will remunerate for all the services... I’ll throw you at the horseback, on a saddle, take to China and sell to some old man for a few livestock heads as younger wife. Here is my final judgment and it will not be me if I don’t accomplish it. I have sworn. Just give me the term! I’ll be back soon!

Ajsha kept silent; Sugur came out, furiously slapping the door.

How much time had passed? Ajsha was in a maze already. Trying to get her hands loose she twisted all over, turned either on the back or to the side. Only in the dead of night managed she pulling out her right hand from tie up; it was bleeding and with cut from the rough rope.

Anger invigorated her; she decided to fight to the bitter and being encouraged by such decision she began searching the revolver again...

 

 

6

 

 

...When Khasen lifted the knife to stab Ajsha with it, his hand was grabbed by Samat who had prevented the deadly blow.

Ajsha lay being curdled. It lasted for a few moments. But suddenly she moved and removed the clotted hair from the face. Everyone saw her hands covered with bloody cuts.

-    I thought Sugur has come after me,- she moaned, embarrassedly looking Khasen.- He was threatening he would come back and take me away. I said he wouldn’t take me alive... He tied me...- Ajsha stretched her bloody arms and began sobbing.

Dametken was the first one to rush to her; she hugged her, raised from the ground, saying:

-    My dear, you poor one; I knew you were innocent... I had even no thought of you being on the same side as the enemy...

The very moment they heard horse clatter and everyone grabbed their guns.

-Here they are, damned!- Ajsha  shouted and rushed to Khasen.

Samat loaded the gun hammer and pressed his ear to the door, listening tensely.

-   Hey, Samat, Khasen, are you here?- Katpa’s voice sounded from behind the door.- Answer! Who is there?

Giving the jacklight to Ajsha, Samat opened the door.

-   Yes, that is us!

Katpa, three militiamen and investigator Murat entered the cellar. The investigator briefly explained why he had arrived.

-   You,- he said addressing Samat and Khasen, -will have to go the region now; your case is being investigated there and at the time of investigation you will have to be under arrest.  

The women groaned.  And Samat breathing heavily, dropped to Katpa sharply:

-   These are your tricks, aren’t they?

-    That is justice!- Katpa replied boldly smiling.

Samat and Khasen were still holding guns in their hands and militiamen approached them with caution, obviously intending to disarm them.

-     You will have time,- Samat said.- We won’t run away. But before that you will have to seize someone scarier. That is why we are here. There will be a band of robbers any minute here.

-     Stop cackling!- shouted the investigator and  Katpa unanimously.- You’re both under arrest!

-    Right now we will not go anywhere,- Samat said decisively.

And the very moment somewhere very close there snapped shots. Katpa and the investigator look at each other confusedly.

-    What is that?- Katpa trembling  murmured.

-   That’d be the shootout with the enemies.  Sugur is there.

And Samat looked at Katpa tryingly. The shooting began to intensify; there could be heard some shouts and the clatter...

Sugur’s name apparently had alarmed Katpa; his arms jerked but at once he overcame himself, braced up and calmly said addressing the investigator:

-     Well, we have to!- and headed for the door.

-     No, you won’t go!- Samat said firmly and at one stroke he  appeared at the door. Replacing the gun into the left hand he grabbed the revolver with his right one; his eyes sparkling formidably. Everyone in bewilderment was looking at each other and   Katpa froze on the spot. Looking into each other’s eyes with hatred, Katpa and Samat as if they were silently arguing in a way that could be understood only by them. But again Katpa managed to collect himself.

-     Do you see what birdies we have here! That one is Sugur’s wife; she can’t wait till she sees her husband! And they want to betray me as well. Hey, Samat, do you want to ruin me? We will see who wins!

And the noise and clatter was still approaching. At Katpa’s last words the door opened with a crackle and there appeared breathless and disheveled Shaltykin in the cellar. Having no idea about what was happening he whispered:

-   What are you all doing here? Where is that villain? Haven’t you seized him yet?! Run there; the bandits are shooting there!

Seeing the revolver directed at Katpa by Samat, he was completely at a loss.

-   What is happening here? Have you lost your mind or what? Sugur is near and they have hidden!..

But no-one paid attention to the old man. Everyone was listening to what was going on behind the door. The clatter was heard at the very cellar; afterwards the horses were stopped with a jerk; a disorderly noise was heard,- apparently the horsemen dismounted and the door opened again. There entered Panshyn with a jacklight in his hand followed by Sugur and Kulaajgyr with dismally lowered heads; at the open door there were crowding several armed Red Army men.

Panshyn came up to Samat and lifting his hand to the cap, knapped in a military way:

-    There now, everything has been done!

-    Congratulations! But the end is far... The trouble only begins to be stirred up...

Panshyn understood nothing and Samat nodded to the side of Katpa:

-    There, Katpa brought the investigator and militia to arrest me and Khasen.

 - What nonsense!- Panshyn exclaimed.

-    I would have been one of the eleven Taldyuzek workers,- Samat continued,- being ruined by Katpa. He wants to pawn off all the dark affairs of those criminals!..

And Samat gave a nod to Sugur’s and Kulaajgyr’s side.

Suddenly it crossed the mind of Shaltyk, who until then was standing aside. He pushed off Katpa, standing on his way and jumped up to Sugur:

-    Ha, Sugur, as it appears, you were sending me to Katpa not without a reason... «Only to Katpa»,- you were repeating... Now I understood everything...

With victorious look the old man was looking at Samat and Panshyn in turns.

-       Oh God, what is happening!- everyone started the noise.

-       So that is why you sent me to the cellar today,- Ajsha began talking.-Apparently, you wanted to do a service to your fellow  Sugur very much. Oh, damn you! I understood everything now.

Katpa was still bluffing his way; he tried to shift the suspicions from him.

-       Don’t be silly, Sugur is my worst enemy! And then something unexpected

happened: Sugur came up to Katpa and mockingly said:

-     Although we are enemies with you, but let’s greet each other at least, Katpa!

-     Quiet! - Panshyn lifted his hand and ordered to stop all the conversations.

Sugur and Kulaajgyr were taken away by guard. Only then Panshyn turned to Katpa.

-    Katpa Kozhelakov,- he said calmly and firmly,- you will immediately go with us to the region.

Hesitating for a while Katpa headed for the exit.

Collective farmers being shocked with such events, kept silent. Khasen was sitting on a barrel, supporting his wounded arm that still bled. The events were moving so rapidly that everything and even he had forgotten about the wound, although half an hour had passed. Deadly paleness covered his face and Ajsha ran up to him screaming.

-    Forgive me, darling! It’s my fault, I have mistaken!.. But I had to protect myself from that viper Sugur!

Khasen tenderly caressed her head with his healthy hand while Dametken and Ajazhan were applying a dressing on his wound with a white strap torn off from Samat’s shirt.

...Two days had passed. At the sunset time there set out a horseman from the regional center, on a ginger well-fed horse. Behind the saddle there dangled a well-lined valise. The horseman was preparing for a long-distance run to Tarbagatay Mountains. He was heading at a round trot hurrying the horse all the time and looking back.

At this time along the other street, so as to cross the line along which the horseman was moving there hurried two military men. The horseman on the ginger horse and the military men merely ran into each other at the crossing and the horseman had to pull the horse up. The military men stopped as well.  

-    Citizen, are you the judge Sadyrov?- one of them asked.

Having understood that everything was lost and that the military men met him not incidentally, he murmured:

-      Yes, I’m Sadyrov.

-      You are the one we need! Turn back!

 

 

Sadyrov’s arrest had helped to clear the dark case of Sugur up completely. He turned out to appear in the district two days before the decisive events. Together with Katpa they had framed a plan of actions. They wanted to kill several birds with one stone: they needed to lacerate the cattle, shift the blame on Khasen and Samat and kidnap the ex-wife of Sugur, who had left the zharke family and gone to «dirty altybajevets». That is why Katpa had sent exactly Ajsha to the cellar. And the revolver was given to her at request of Sugur himself, who continued to get the weapon in such a way. They had never thought that an inexperienced woman would try to use the revolver by herself,- of course she couldn’t!

Katpa, Sugur and Sadyrov had used such cunning methods several times already, taking advantage of the fact that many new people had migrated to the collective farm, who did not know what had been happening there before.

The criminals managed to conceal the traces of their miry business for a long time... But the justice had finally been served!

1935