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M reed headless horseman read online. "Headless horseman

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From 1850 in England, and then in the USA and Europe, books began to appear one after another, signed by the unusual pseudonym "Captain Mine Reed." And to say that they were popular would be an understatement. They were read with delight by teenagers and adults, they were passed from hand to hand, the heroes of these works became characters in children's games, they awakened the imagination, captured, called to the unknown. Not without reason, David Livingston, the illustrious explorer of Africa, in his last letter sent by him from the jungle shortly before his death, wrote: "Readers of Mine Reed's books are the material from which travelers are obtained."

And the very life of this remarkable writer is like a vivid novel with a dramatic ending.

Thomas Mine Reed (1818–1883), a Scot by birth, was born in Northern Ireland to a Presbyterian pastor. For his time, he received an excellent education - he graduated from a classical school, and then from the Royal University College in Belfast. He was attracted by mathematics, Latin and Greek, rhetoric, but he remained cold to theology, to the chagrin of his parents, who dreamed of seeing their son as a pastor.

Even then, a passion for travel and romantic adventures flared up in the young man's heart - and in particular he was attracted by America with its boundless undeveloped expanses. However, he did not have to secretly leave his parents' house - his parents, realizing that his son's aspirations were far from a church career, bought him a ticket for a steamer that was sailing across the ocean and provided him with money for the first time.

In 1840, Mine Reed arrived in New Orleans, the largest city in the slave-owning South. There he quickly found himself without a livelihood and was forced to take on any job. In addition, it turned out that the education received at home has no use here. The young man had a chance to work in a company engaged in the resale of "live goods", from where he soon quit, to serve as a salesman in a shop, a home teacher, a traveling actor, to participate in trading and hunting expeditions deep into the prairies.

By 1842–1843 include the first literary experiments of Mine Reed - poems and dramatic works that did not have much success. And in the autumn of 1846 he moved to New York and began working for the popular Zeitgeist weekly. But he could not sit in the editorial office for a long time - just at that time the war between the United States and Mexico began, and Mine Reed, having learned about the formation of volunteer detachments, was one of the first to join their ranks. In March 1847, as part of the First New York Volunteer Regiment, he boarded a ship sailing to the shores of southern Mexico.

During the fighting, Lieutenant Mine Reid showed real miracles of courage, and in between battles and campaigns, he wrote articles and reports that were published in the Zeitgeist.

However, on September 13, 1847, during the assault on the Chapultepec fortress in the suburbs of Mexico City, he received a severe wound in the thigh, lost consciousness from loss of blood and remained on the battlefield, littered with the corpses of those killed. Mine Reid was presumed dead, obituaries appeared in American newspapers, and a family in Northern Ireland was notified of his death.

But by some miracle, he managed to survive. After leaving the hospital, he spent several months in Mexico, getting acquainted with the country and studying its nature, and in the spring of 1859 he retired with the rank of captain and returned to New York to return to journalism. It was at this time that he began to write his first novel, which was based on the impressions of the Mexican War.

However, it was not possible to find a publisher in America - and the future literary celebrity went to England. But not for the sake of publishing a book: at that time, liberation revolutions broke out in a number of European countries, and volunteer detachments were formed in the United States to assist the rebels in Bavaria and Hungary. At the head of a detachment of volunteers, Thomas Mine Reed sailed to Europe, but, alas, he was late - the revolution had been suppressed by that time. Having sold the weapons, he sent his adherents to the USA, while he himself remained in England.

In London, not only literary fame awaited him, but also the happiness of his whole life. Thirty-year-old Mine Reed fell in love at first sight with a thirteen-year-old girl from an aristocratic family - Elizabeth Hyde. Two years later, having overcome the desperate resistance of Elizabeth's relatives, he married his beloved, who became his faithful companion, and then the keeper of the writer's literary heritage.

The success of Mine Reed's first novel, The Free Gunslingers (1850), brought him to the attention of publishers, and starting in 1851, his stories for children began to appear regularly on the shelves of bookstores, the heroes of which were teenagers who found themselves in an extreme situation. The first was the story "Dwelling in the Desert", then the dilogy "Boys-hunters, or Adventures in search of a white bison", followed by two dozen more fascinating stories full of incredible adventures.

At the same time, the writer worked on "adult" books. After The Freelancers came the novel The Scalp Hunters, which became a real bestseller - since its first publication, more than a million copies of the book have been sold in the UK alone. The novels The White Leader, The Quad, and Osceola were also a resounding success; but the pinnacle of Mine Reed's work, his masterpiece, was undoubtedly The Headless Horseman.

It would be surprising if everything went smoothly in the life of this unusual person. Receiving significant royalties, in 1866 he started building a huge hacienda (estate) in the Mexican style near London and, as a result, found himself heavily in debt. The publication of The Headless Horseman saved the writer from complete ruin, but this did not stop the restless retired captain - he founded his own newspaper, which burned out after not having existed for even six months.

After these failures, Mine Reed decided to go back to America: there he hoped to improve his financial situation. In New York, he published a number of short novels commissioned by Beadle and Adams, which revived his literary fame. Meanwhile, in Europe - in France, Germany and Russia - literary fakes began to appear one after another, which obscure artisans published under the famous pseudonym "Captain Mine Reed".

In 1869, the writer founded an adventure magazine for American teenagers, but his publication soon had to be stopped: in February 1870, a wound received in the Mexican War was reopened. Doctors considered Mine Reed's condition hopeless, but the captain won this battle with death. Four years later, everything happened again, blood poisoning began, and it took the writer more than six months to get back on his feet. However, until the end of his life, he remained disabled and could not move without the help of crutches, constantly overcoming excruciating pain.

Together with his family, he returned to England and settled on a farm, continuing to engage in literary work from time to time. It was then that he wrote the novels "Captain of Gunslingers", "Queen of the Lakes" and "Gwen Wynn".

In early October 1883, the wound again made itself felt, and Mine Reed finally lost the ability to move. And a few weeks later he was gone.

But Captain Mine Reid this time also managed to circle death around his finger: for another six years after his death, new works of the writer continued to be published, which he did not have time to publish during his lifetime.

Chapter 1

Above the wild, endless prairie that stretches south of the ancient Spanish town of San Antonio de Bejar, there is a cloudless azure sky and a blinding midday sun. Across the scorched plain of Texas, wagons are drawn towards the settlements on the Leona River; there are ten of them, and above each is a semicircular canvas canopy. Around - no signs of human habitation, no flying bird, no running beast. All living things in this sultry hour freeze and look for shadows. The wagons, drawn by strong mules, are laden with food, expensive furniture, black slave girls and their children; black servants walk side by side along the roadside, some wearily trudge behind, barely stepping with wounded bare feet. The wagon chain is led by a light crew; on his box a black coachman in livery languishes in the heat. At first glance, it is clear that this is not a poor northerner migrant looking for happiness in new lands, but a rich southerner who has bought a vast estate and plantation, is heading to his possessions with his family, property and slaves ...

The caravan was led by the planter Woodley Poindexter himself - a tall, lean gentleman in his fifties with a proud bearing and a stern, sickly yellow face. He was dressed expensively, but simply: he was perfectly dressed in a loose-fitting frock coat, a silk waistcoat and nanke trousers. In the neckline of the waistcoat one could see the unbuttoned button of a cambric shirt, intercepted at the collar with a black ribbon. On the feet are shoes made of soft tanned leather. From the wide brim of the hat, a shadow fell on the owner's face.

Beside the planter rode two horsemen. On the right hand is the son, a twenty-year-old youth in a white panama and a light suit of pale blue. His open face was full of life, unlike his seven-year-old cousin, a retired volunteer officer. Wrapped in a cloth military uniform, he swayed grimly in the saddle to the left of the planter. This trio was accompanied at a respectful distance by another rider, in poorer clothes - John Sansom, the overseer of the slaves, and at the same time the guide. His hand tightly gripped the hilt of the whip, and his swarthy face with sharp features retained an expression of isolation and alertness. In the carriage, roomy enough and adapted for a long journey, were two young girls. One, with dazzling white skin, was the only daughter of Woodley Poindexter; the second, a black woman, was her maid. The caravan began its journey on the banks of the Mississippi, in Louisiana.

Woodley Poindexter was a descendant of French emigrants; not long ago he owned huge sugarcane plantations and was known as one of the richest and most hospitable aristocrats of the American South. But extravagance brought him to ruin, and Poindexter, by this time widowed, had to leave his habitable places and go with his family to southwest Texas.

The caravan moved slowly, as if groping, there was no well-trodden road on the plain: only lone wheel tracks and flattened dry grass. The travelers were tormented by the scorching heat and the oppressive silence hanging over the prairie. But even though the mules trudged along at a snail's pace, they were miles behind, and the southerner expected that by nightfall they would be in place.

However, not even a few minutes had passed before the movement of the caravan was stopped by John Sansom. He suddenly urged his horse forward, then turned sharply and galloped back to the caravan, as if finding an obstacle. The planter thought that the overseer had noticed in the distance the Indians, whose detachments, as they said, no, no, and appear in these places, and asked the horseman:

- What happened?

“Grass… There was a fire on the prairie.

But there is no smell of smoke. What's the matter?

- It was burning the other day, not now, - the rider looked at the owner from under his brows, - the whole earth is black there.

- So what? Burnt grass is not a hindrance to us ...

“There is no need to raise a fuss over trifles,” the planter’s nephew frowned, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“But how are we going to find our way now, Captain Calhoun?” the conductor objected. - The old track is no longer visible, only ashes. I'm afraid we'll go astray.

- Rubbish! You just need to cross the scorched area and find the tracks on the other side. Forward! Calhoun shouted.

John Sansom, scowling at the captain, galloped to fulfill the order. Although a native of the eastern states, he nevertheless had an excellent knowledge of the prairie and frontier life. The caravan started off, but as it approached the border of scorched grass, it seemed to stumble. Not a trace anywhere, not a rut, not a single surviving plant - everything turned into ashes. The black plain stretched to the horizon.

“John is right,” the planter said worriedly. What are we going to do, Cassius?

“Keep going,” the captain glanced at the carriage, through the window of which his cousin's troubled, tender face peered out. - Uncle! The river must be on the other side of the conflagration. There is a crossing... We can't go back. Rely on me!

- Okay. Poindexter nodded in agreement and signaled to the wagon drivers to keep moving. I hope we don't get lost...

After another mile or so the caravan stopped again, but now it was Calhoun himself who had given the order to stop. Something in the surrounding landscape has changed, but not for the better. As before, the plain remained smooth as a board, and black, only in some places chains of hills were visible, and in the lowlands - bare skeletons of trees and acacia bushes, standing alone and in groups. It was decided to move through the nearest lowland, skirting the groves burned down in the fire. The captain's self-confidence left him, he looked back more and more often, until finally a satisfied smirk appeared on his gloomy face - the conflagration suddenly ended, and the lead crew again rolled out onto the well-worn road.

The riders immediately noticed traces of wheels and horse hooves - quite fresh, as if an hour ago the same caravan had passed here. He must also have been moving towards the shores of Leona; it may have been a government convoy bound for Fort Inge. It remained only to follow in his footsteps, which was done - the fort was located near the new estate of Woodley Poindexter.

The wagon train went on for another mile along the road, and Cassius Calhoun had to admit with annoyance that the tracks of the forty-four wheels on which the caravan moved were left by one carriage and ten wagons, the same ones that now trailed behind him and with which he made all the way from Matagorda bay.

Now there was no doubt - Woodley Poindexter's caravan made a wide circle, moving in the footsteps of its own convoy.

Chapter 2

Having made this discovery, Captain Cassius Calhoun pulled on the reins, restraining his horse, and burst into abuse. He recognized the area, and the footprints of the bare feet of black slaves, and even the imprint of the cracked horseshoe of his own horse. And in this he, albeit with great reluctance, but had to confess to the planter. The annoyance that they had traveled in vain for a whole two miles could not be compared with his injured pride: taking on the role of a guide, he disgraced himself like a boy, especially since the day before he had quarreled with an experienced guide hired by his uncle in Indianola, and fired him.

The caravan stopped again; Woodley Poindexter asked no more questions, realizing that he would not be able to arrive before dark, as he had hoped. And there would be no particular trouble in that if it were not for a wide strip of scorched prairie. Now they have a lot of trouble: they don’t have enough water to drink the horses and mules, they have nothing to feed the animals, they will have a night in the open air in a remote area, but the main thing is that they were left without an experienced guide who navigates every trail. The planter was not angry with his nephew, knowing his stubborn and quick-tempered disposition, but the fact that they had lost their way had a depressing effect on him. Feeling unsure of Cassius's behavior, he turned away and looked up at the sky.

The sun, still scorching, was slowly sinking to the west. The southerner noticed black vultures already circling high above them, and several birds had descended so low that he felt uneasy. He wanted to consult with his son what to do next, when the joyful cries of blacks reached his ears: a horseman was approaching the caravan at a gallop.

It was a truly pleasant surprise!

“He is rushing towards us, am I not mistaken?” exclaimed Woodley Poindexter.

- That's right, father. Henry began waving his panama hat high above his head to get the stranger's attention.

However, this was not required: the rider already noticed the caravan. Soon he got close enough to get a better look at him.

“Mexican, by the way,” Henry muttered.

“So much the better, he certainly knows the way,” said the planter in an undertone, and lifted his hat slightly in salute to the rider, who reined in his overheated horse right in front of them.

- Good afternoon, caballero! the captain spoke in Spanish. - Are you Mexican?

“No, sir,” the stranger smiled restrainedly and immediately switched to English. We will understand each other better in your native language. Are you Southern Americans? – rider nodded in the direction of the black slaves. - And for the first time in our area, right? And besides, they lost their way. By pure chance, I noticed your footprints when I was driving on the prairie, and I decided to do something to help ...

“Sir,” the planter said with a certain amount of arrogance, “we would be very grateful for your help. My name is Woodley Poindexter. I bought a manor on the coast of Leona, near Fort Inge. We expected to get there by daylight. Do you think this is possible?

- Let's see. - The stranger galloped to the nearest hill, shouting on the go: - I'll be right back!

From behind the curtains of the carriage, girlish eyes looked at the rider with interest - not only expectation, but also burning curiosity shone in them. A young man of about twenty-five, slender and broad-shouldered, in a picturesque costume of a Mexican cattleman, sat confidently in the saddle of a thoroughbred bay horse, impatiently tearing the ground with its hoof, while its owner peered into the surroundings. The gold lace that adorned his black hat gleamed in the sun; strong legs were shod in high boots made of buffalo skin, trousers with laces instead of stripes were tight around the hips, a scarlet silk scarf tightly tied her thin waist ... Almost for the first time in her life, Louise Poindexter's heart beat so hot. The stranger would be flattered if he knew what feelings he aroused in the breast of a young Creole.

However, the rider was not even aware of its existence. His eyes only flickered over the dusty carriage as he returned to the owner of the wagons.

“I can’t help you with the signs, sir. You will have to follow my horse's tracks to cross the Leona five miles below the frontier fort. I'm heading for the same ford... - The stranger thought for a second. “However, this is not the best solution. After the fire, wild mustangs managed to visit here, which left many prints of hooves ... I am very sorry, Mr. Poindexter, that I cannot accompany you. I must urgently arrive at the fort with an important dispatch. And yet - my horse is shod, its track is noticeably different from the tracks of savages. Focus on the sun - it should always be on your right. For about five miles, continue straight ahead, without turning anywhere, there you will see the top of a tall cypress. Its trunk at sunset is visible from afar - it is almost purple in color. Cypress stands on the very bank of the river, not far from the ford ...

The rider looked back at the carriage and caught the young girl's dark, brilliant, and full of tenderness, but hastily turned away, as if afraid of betraying himself with a return admiring glance and appearing excessively impudent.

“I'm running out of time, so please forgive me for leaving you to your own devices,” he told the planter.

“We are sincerely grateful to you, the sun will help us not to go astray, but ...

“As long as the weather doesn’t let us down,” the rider remarked after thinking. “Clouds are gathering in the north, but I hope you still have time to get to the river ... Oh, here's the thing: better follow the trail of my lasso!”

The stranger removed from the saddle a hair rope coiled into rings and, attaching one end to the ring on the saddle, threw the other to the ground. Then, politely raising his hat, he gave his spurs to his horse and galloped across the prairie again. His lasso raised a cloud of black dust and left a streak on the scorched earth that looked like the footprint of a huge snake.

- Amazing young man! said the planter thoughtfully. He didn't even introduce himself.

“A self-confident guy, I would say,” the captain muttered, from whom the glance cast by a stranger in the direction of the carriage did not escape. “As for his name, there can be no doubt that it would have been fictitious. Texas is full of such thugs with a dark past ...

“Listen, Cassius,” said young Poindexter, “you are unjust. He behaved like a true gentleman.

“Henry, have you ever met a gentleman who would dress up in Mexican rags?” I bet that this is some kind of rogue ... Well, God bless him; I want to have a word with your sister.

During the conversation with the captain, Louise did not take her eyes off the departing rider.

What's the matter, Lou? Calhoun whispered as he rode close to the carriage. “Maybe you want to catch up with him?” It's not too late - I'll give you my horse.

In response, he heard a loud laugh.

- This tramp so captivated you? The captain didn't give up. - So know - this is just a crow in peacock feathers ...

- Cassius, why are you so angry?

“You are being indecent, Louise. I'm sure it's just a rancher courier hired by the fort's officers.

- You think? - the girl slyly glanced at her irritated relative. “I wouldn't mind receiving love notes from such a courier.

"Make sure your father doesn't hear you!"

“Don’t teach me how to behave, Cassius!” Louise quickly wiped away a playful smile from her face. “Even though your uncle thinks you are the height of perfection, you are nothing more than Captain Calhoun to me. Maybe just a drop - a cousin. But even in this case, I will not tolerate being lectured ... There is only one person whom I consider myself obliged to consult, and only to him I would allow me to reproach. I advise you to refrain from such moralizing in the future - you are not my chosen one!

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"Headless horseman" is a novel by Mine Reid, written in 1865 and based on the author's adventures in America.

Plot

The novel takes place in the fifties of the XIX century in the border regions of Texas. Wealthy planter Woodley Poindexter and his family of son, daughter and nephew move from Louisiana to their new home, Casa del Corvo.

Shortly after the Poindexters have settled in the Casa del Corvo, the planter hosts a big reception dedicated to a successful move and closer acquaintance with the Texas elite. Maurice Gerald is also present at this reception, who undertook to deliver two dozen wild horses to the planter's family. In accordance with Irish custom, he gives a rare and valuable mustang to the daughter of a planter, which further inflames love in her heart and hatred in her cousin's soul. Now he is already determined to remove the young mustanger from his path. Having conceived a cunning plan to kill Maurice, he decides to carry it out the next evening, in the bar of the village, which was formed near Fort Inge. He allegedly accidentally pushed and doused the Irishman, who answered him the same. The resulting quarrel ends in a duel. Calhoun clearly underestimated his opponent, and paid the price, surviving only thanks to the generosity of Maurice. Thus, by winning this fight, the mustanger won the respect of the locals and officers of the fort, and also made the retired captain terrified of him.

Calhoun does not back down from his plan to kill Maurice, but not with his own hands, but by paying another mustanger, bandit Miguel Diaz. Diaz, having learned that the Indians are on the warpath, gladly agrees to this business.

At the same time, after the recovery of Maurice, he and Louise began to secretly correspond with the help of the so-called. "air mail", and then, unable to withstand a long separation, meet in the garden of Casa del Corvo. After their last meeting, a tragic event occurred. Calhoun finds Maurice and Louise in the garden and persuades Louise's brother to kill the mustanger. Thanks in part to Louise's intercession, and in part to Henry's prudence, Maurice manages to escape unscathed. Young Poindexter, after listening to his sister, decides that he acted unreasonably, and is going to catch up with Gerald and apologize to him. At night, he leaves in pursuit of the mustanger. Following Henry, his cousin Cassius leaves, but with a different purpose: he knows that tomorrow Maurice is leaving for Ireland, and decides to kill him that night.

The next morning, as they gather for breakfast, the Poindexter family discovers that Henry, contrary to his habit, did not get up on time and did not show up for an early breakfast. He wasn't in the house either. At this time, one of the slaves caught his horse on the prairie, without a rider and smeared with blood. Everyone thinks Henry Poindexter is dead. In search of the body and the killer, a detachment of armed planters and soldiers is equipped, who in their search achieves some success and finds evidence of the death of the young man. During the search, this squad encounters a terrible headless horseman. Not finding a reasonable guess what it could be, the detachment goes to spend the night.

On the same night, Diaz and his accomplices, disguised as Indians, invade Maurice's home on the Alamo with the clear intention of killing him. Not finding him there, they decide to wait for him in the hut. And soon someone arrived. But not the owner of the dwelling, but the same headless horseman. Frightened to death, the bandits quickly retreated. They were the second to see the mysterious headless horseman.

Meanwhile, Maurice's friend, Zebulon Stump, worried about the disappearance of the Irishman, was in his hut with his servant Felim, who was scared to death by the Indians. They receive a note from the Mustanger delivered by his dog Tara. They go to the indicated place and barely make it in time, killing the jaguar that attacked the guy. Maurice was very ill, because of what - is unknown. The old hunter Stump and the mustanger's servant Felim take the young man to their house, where he is found by a search party. After finding Henry's clothes in his cabin, the Regulators decide to have a lynching on the spot. But thanks to the intervention of Zeb Stump, as well as Indian things in Maurice's hut, talking about a possible Comanche invasion, the trial is postponed.

Meanwhile, everyone is sure that Henry Poindexter is dead and Maurice Gerald is responsible for his death. In a state of fever, he awaits a legal trial in the guardhouse of Fort Inge. Some of the Mustanger's friends, namely the Major, the commandant of the fort, Spangler, Zeb Stump and Louise Poindexter are sure that it was not Maurice who committed the murder, but someone else. After gaining three extra days from the major to delay the trial, Zeb Stump sets off for the prairie, where he is determined to find evidence of his friend's innocence. And he finds them, and now he knows for sure who the real killer is and what the mysterious headless horseman is. He reports everything to the commandant of the fort, and everyone is awaiting trial.

Having woken up from the clouding of his mind, Maurice gives evidence at the trial, which makes many change their minds about the mustanger's guilt in this crime. Things change even more drastically when people see the headless horseman approaching the place of judgment.

This is where this monstrous secret is revealed. All this time, Henry Poindexter was the headless horseman. Calhoun killed him. This became known when they managed to extract from the body of Henry a bullet marked with the initials of Cassius Calhoun "K. K. K ”(“ Captain Cassius Calhoun ”). From the testimony of Maurice, it turned out that at the meeting, Henry and Maurice, according to the old custom of the Comanches, exchanged clothes and hats as a sign of reconciliation. Maurice then left, and Henry remained in that place, and after them the retired captain who pursued them also came there. Seeing a man in Mexican clothes, he mistook his brother for Maurice and shot him with a gun, and then cut off the head of the corpse. Maurice, who used to live among the Comanches, got acquainted with their custom of delivering warriors who died in battle on their war horses, hoisted Henry's body on his horse, and tied his head to the pommel of the saddle. Henry himself got on his horse, but, not knowing how to control someone else's horse, he turned him towards the terrible horseman. The horse was frightened by a terrible sight and suffered. Maurice, on the other hand, hit his head on a thick branch of a tree, fell from his horse and received a severe concussion. This was the reason for his sudden illness. And the horse with the headless corpse roamed the prairies for a long time until it ended up at the final court.

Zebulon presented evidence that Cassius was guilty. Guilty was confirmed both by a bullet marked with the initials "К.К.К" in the rider's body, and a fragment of a letter addressed to Cassius Calhoun, which the tracker found near the scene of the murder (Calhoun, loading his gun, used a paper wad). After that, the killer, realizing the hopelessness of his situation, tries to hide, leaving the court session and swiftly galloping on a horse to the prairie. However, Maurice the mustanger, on his excellent horse, from which Henry's corpse has already been removed, catches up with Cassius, detains him and delivers him back to court. The latter, in view of the irrefutable evidence presented by Zeb Stump, sentences Calhoun to death by hanging. Cassius takes his last word, in which he says that he does not want to die with the stigma of a fratricide, and said that he confused Maurice with Henry because they switched hats. At the end of the trial, Calhoun shot Maurice with a pistol, which, for some unknown reason, was not confiscated from him, after which he shot himself. But the bullet hit Maurice's locket, which Louise had given him. Maurice Gerald survived and turned out to be a rich Irishman, helped to buy the Poindexter estate and he and Louise stayed together ...

Characters

Maurice Gerald is the main character, a poor mustanger in the USA and a wealthy baronet in his homeland.
Louise Poindexter is Maurice's lover.
Woodley Poindexter - Louise's father, a planter.
Cassius Calhoun - Woodley's nephew, a retired military man with a scandalous reputation, loves Louise, shot himself at the final trial.
Henry Poindexter - Louise's brother, killed and beheaded by his cousin, who mistook him for Maurice, his corpse and is the "Headless Horseman".
Old Zebulon Stump is a hunter, a friend of Maurice who saved his life and proved his innocence.
Miguel Diaz - Mexican, nicknamed "El Coyote", was executed after the murder of Isidora.
Isidora Covarubio De Los Llanos - Diaz's lover, loves Maurice, killed by Diaz.
Major Ringwood - officer, delayed Maurice's trial for three days.
Spangler is a tracker, participated in the search for Henry or his body, one of the first to see the "Headless Horseman".
Pluto is a servant in the Poindexter family.
Felim O'Neill is Maurice's servant and foster brother.
Tara - Maurice's dog, saved him several times from coyotes.
Sam Manley is the leader of the regulars, the only one who believed in Maurice's innocence.
Riders, regulars, people on trial, Diaz's accomplices, servants.
Oberdofer - the owner of the inn

Translations

The most famous translation of the novel into Russian, made by A. Yu. Makarova.

Screen adaptations

The novel served as the basis for the film The Headless Horseman, which was filmed by Soviet director Vladimir Vainshtok in 1973.

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An excerpt characterizing the Headless Horseman (novel)

- You seem to be talking about the Shengraben case? You were there?
“I was there,” Rostov said with anger, as if by this he wanted to offend the adjutant.
Bolkonsky noticed the state of the hussar, and it seemed funny to him. He smiled slightly contemptuously.
- Yes! Lots of stories about this stuff!
“Yes, stories,” Rostov spoke loudly, looking at Boris and then Bolkonsky with furious eyes, “yes, there are many stories, but our stories are the stories of those who were in the very fire of the enemy, our stories have weight, and not stories of those staff thugs who receive awards without doing anything.
“Which do you suppose I belong to?” - calmly and especially pleasantly smiling, said Prince Andrei.
A strange feeling of anger and at the same time respect for the calmness of this figure was united at that time in the soul of Rostov.
“I’m not talking about you,” he said, “I don’t know you and, I confess, I don’t want to know. I'm talking about staff in general.
“And I’ll tell you what,” Prince Andrei interrupted him with calm authority in his voice. - You want to insult me, and I am ready to agree with you that this is very easy to do if you do not have sufficient respect for yourself; but you will agree that both the time and place are very badly chosen for this. One of these days we will all have to be in a big, more serious duel, and besides, Drubetskaya, who says that he is your old friend, is not at all to blame for the fact that my physiognomy had the misfortune not to please you. However,” he said, getting up, “you know my name and you know where to find me; but do not forget,” he added, “that I do not consider myself or you offended at all, and my advice, as a man older than you, is to leave this matter without consequences. So on Friday, after the show, I'm waiting for you, Drubetskoy; goodbye, ”concluded Prince Andrei and went out, bowing to both.
Rostov remembered what he had to answer only when he had already left. And he was even more angry because he forgot to say it. Rostov immediately ordered his horse to be brought in and, after taking a dry farewell to Boris, rode off to his place. Should he go to the head quarters tomorrow and call in this fractious adjutant, or, in fact, leave the matter as it is? was a question that tormented him all the way. Now he thought with malice about how pleased he would be to see the fright of this small, weak and proud little man under his pistol, then he felt with surprise that of all the people he knew, he would not want so much to have his friend like this adjutant he hated.

On the next day of Boris' meeting with Rostov, there was a review of the Austrian and Russian troops, both fresh, who had come from Russia, and those who had returned from the campaign with Kutuzov. Both emperors, the Russian with the heir to the Tsarevich and the Austrian with the Archduke, made this review of the allied 80,000th army.
From early morning, smartly cleaned and cleaned troops began to move, lining up on the field in front of the fortress. Then thousands of feet and bayonets with fluttering banners moved and, at the command of the officers, stopped, turned around and formed up at intervals, bypassing other similar masses of infantry in different uniforms; then with measured stomp and rattling sounded elegant cavalry in blue, red, green embroidered uniforms with embroidered musicians in front, on black, red, gray horses; then, stretching out with its copper sound of trembling on carriages, cleaned, shiny cannons and with its own smell of overcoats, artillery crawled between the infantry and cavalry and was placed in designated places. Not only generals in full full dress uniform, with impossibly thick and thin waists and reddened, propped up collars, necks, in scarves and all orders; not only pomaded, dressed-up officers, but every soldier, with a fresh, washed and shaved face and cleaned up to the last possible shine with ammunition, each horse, groomed so that, like satin, its wool shone on it and hair to hair lay wetted mane, - everyone felt that something serious, significant and solemn was happening. Each general and soldier felt their insignificance, conscious of themselves as a grain of sand in this sea of people, and together they felt their power, conscious of being part of this huge whole.
Intense chores and efforts began from early in the morning, and at 10 o'clock everything came into the required order. Rows lined up on the vast field. The whole army was stretched out in three lines. Cavalry in front, artillery in back, infantry in back.
Between each row of troops there was, as it were, a street. Three parts of this army were sharply separated from one another: the combat Kutuzovskaya (in which the Pavlogradites stood on the right flank in the front line), army and guard regiments that had come from Russia, and the Austrian army. But all stood under one line, under one command and in the same order.
As the wind swept through the leaves, an excited whisper: “They are coming! they're going!" Frightened voices were heard, and a wave of fuss over the last preparations ran through all the troops.
Ahead of Olmutz appeared a moving group. And at the same time, although the day was calm, a light stream of wind ran through the army and slightly shook the weather vanes of the lance and the unfurled banners that were rattled on their shafts. It seemed that the army itself, with this slight movement, expressed its joy at the approach of sovereigns. One voice was heard: "Attention!" Then, like roosters at dawn, the voices repeated in different directions. And everything went quiet.
In the dead silence only the sound of horses could be heard. It was the suite of emperors. The sovereigns drove up to the flank and the sounds of the trumpeters of the first cavalry regiment were heard, playing a general march. It seemed that it was not the trumpeters who played it, but the army itself, rejoicing at the approach of the sovereign, naturally made these sounds. Because of these sounds, one young, gentle voice of Emperor Alexander was clearly heard. He said hello, and the first regiment barked: Hurrah! so deafening, long, joyful that the people themselves were horrified by the number and strength of the bulk that they made up.
Rostov, standing in the forefront of the Kutuzov army, to which the sovereign approached the first, experienced the same feeling that every person in this army experienced - a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud consciousness of power and a passionate attraction to the one who was the cause of this triumph.
He felt that it depended on one word of this man that this whole mass (and he, associated with it, an insignificant grain of sand) would go into fire and into water, to crime, to death or to the greatest heroism, and therefore he could not help but tremble and freeze at the sight of that approaching word.
– Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! - thundered from all sides, and one regiment after another received the sovereign with the sounds of a general march; then Hurrah! ... general march and again Urra! and hooray!! which, growing stronger and stronger, merged into a deafening rumble.
Until the sovereign arrived, each regiment, in its silence and immobility, seemed like a lifeless body; as soon as the sovereign was compared with him, the regiment revived and thundered, joining the roar of the entire line that the sovereign had already passed. At the terrible, deafening sound of these voices, in the midst of the masses of the army, motionless, as if petrified in their quadrangles, carelessly, but symmetrically and, most importantly, hundreds of horsemen of the retinue moved freely and in front of them were two people - emperors. The restrained passionate attention of all this mass of people was undividedly focused on them.
Handsome, young Emperor Alexander, in a horse guards uniform, in a triangular hat, put on from the field, with his pleasant face and sonorous, soft voice attracted all the power of attention.
Rostov stood not far from the trumpeters and from afar with his keen eyes recognized the sovereign and followed his approach. When the sovereign approached at a distance of 20 steps and Nicholas clearly, to every detail, examined the beautiful, young and happy face of the emperor, he experienced a feeling of tenderness and delight, the like of which he had not experienced before. Everything - every feature, every movement - seemed to him charming in the sovereign.
Stopping in front of the Pavlograd regiment, the sovereign said something in French to the Austrian emperor and smiled.
Seeing this smile, Rostov himself involuntarily began to smile and felt an even stronger surge of love for his sovereign. He wanted to show his love for the sovereign in some way. He knew it was impossible and he wanted to cry.
The emperor called the regimental commander and said a few words to him.
"My God! what would happen to me if the sovereign turned to me! - thought Rostov: - I would die of happiness.
The emperor also addressed the officers:
- All, gentlemen (every word was heard by Rostov, like a sound from heaven), I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
How happy Rostov would be if he could now die for his tsar!
- You have earned the banners of St. George and will be worthy of them.
"Only die, die for him!" thought Rostov.
The sovereign also said something that Rostov did not hear, and the soldiers, pushing their chests, shouted: Hurrah! Rostov also shouted, bending down to the saddle, as much as he could, wanting to hurt himself with this cry, only to fully express his delight in the sovereign.
The sovereign stood for several seconds against the hussars, as if he were indecisive.
“How could the sovereign be in indecision?” thought Rostov, and then even this indecision seemed to Rostov majestic and charming, like everything that the sovereign did.
The indecision of the sovereign lasted for an instant. The leg of the sovereign, with a narrow, sharp toe of the boot, as was worn at that time, touched the groin of the english bay mare on which he rode; the hand of the sovereign in a white glove picked up the reins, he set off, accompanied by a randomly swaying sea of \u200b\u200badjutants. He rode further and further, stopping at other regiments, and, finally, only his white plume was visible to Rostov from behind the retinue surrounding the emperors.
Among the masters of the retinue, Rostov noticed Bolkonsky, lazily and dissolutely sitting on a horse. Rostov remembered his yesterday's quarrel with him and the question presented itself, should - or should not call him. “Of course, it shouldn’t,” thought Rostov now ... “And is it worth thinking and talking about it at such a moment as now? In a moment of such a feeling of love, delight and selflessness, what do all our quarrels and insults mean!? I love everyone, I forgive everyone now, ”thought Rostov.

"Headless horseman" is a novel by Mine Reid, written in 1865 and based on the author's adventures in America.

Lost in a scorched plain on their way to their new hacienda, the Poindexter family meets Maurice Gerald, a mustanger who lives near the military fort Inge, but a native of northern Ireland. Maurice immediately made an impression on all members of the family, but each - his own. Proud Woodley treated his savior with respect, his son Henry almost immediately fell in love with him with brotherly love, the young planter's sister Louise immediately fell in love with the Mustanger, even despite his modest social status.

Poindexter's nephew, the retired Captain Cassius Calhoun, instantly hated the new hero, partly because he wanted to marry Louise himself, and partly because of his cowardice and arrogance.

Shortly after the Poindexters have settled in the Casa del Corvo, the planter hosts a big reception to mark a successful move and closer acquaintance with the Texas elite. Maurice Gerald is also present at this reception, who undertook to deliver two dozen wild horses to the planter's family. In accordance with Irish custom, he gives a rare and valuable mustang to the daughter of a planter, which further inflames love in her heart and hatred in her cousin's soul. Now he is already determined to remove the young mustanger from his path. Having conceived a cunning plan to kill Maurice, he decides to carry it out the next evening, in the bar of the village, which was formed near Fort Inge. He allegedly accidentally pushed and doused the Irishman, who answered him the same. The resulting quarrel ends in a duel. Calhoun clearly underestimated his opponent, and paid the price, surviving only thanks to the generosity of Maurice. Thus, by winning this fight, the mustanger won the respect of the locals and officers of the fort, and also made the retired captain terrified of him.

At the same time, after the recovery of Maurice, he and Louise began to secretly correspond with the help of the so-called. "air mail", and then, unable to withstand a long separation, meet in the garden of Casa del Corvo. After their last meeting, a tragic event occurred. Calhoun finds Maurice and Louise in the garden and persuades Louise's brother to kill the mustanger. Thanks partly to the intercession of Louise, partly to the prudence of Henry, Maurice manages to escape unscathed. Young Poindexter, after listening to his sister, decides that he acted unreasonably, and is going to catch up with Gerald and apologize to him. At night, he leaves in pursuit of the mustanger. Following Henry, his cousin Cassius leaves, but with a different purpose: he knows that tomorrow Maurice is leaving for Ireland, and decides to kill him that night.

Meanwhile, Maurice's friend, Zebulon Stump, worried about the disappearance of the Irishman, was in his hut with his servant Felim, who was scared to death by the Indians. They receive a note from the Mustanger delivered by his dog Tara. They go to the indicated place and barely make it in time, killing the jaguar that attacked the guy. Maurice was very ill, because of what - is unknown. The old hunter Stump and the mustanger's servant Felim take the young man to their house, where he is found by a search party. After finding Henry's clothes in his cabin, the Regulators decide to have a lynching on the spot. But thanks to the intervention of Zeb Stumpa, as well as Indian things in Maurice's hut, talking about a possible Comanche invasion, the trial is postponed.

Meanwhile, everyone is sure that Henry Poindexter is dead and Maurice Gerald is responsible for his death. In a state of fever, he awaits a legal trial in the guardhouse of Fort Inge. Some friends of the mustanger, namely the major, the commandant of the fort, Spangler, Zeb Stump and Louise Poindexter are sure that the murder was not committed by Maurice, but by someone else. After gaining three extra days from the major to delay the trial, Zeb Stump sets off for the prairie, where he is determined to find evidence of his friend's innocence. And he finds them, and now he knows for sure who the real killer is and what the mysterious headless horseman is. He reports everything to the commandant of the fort, and everyone is awaiting trial.

The main characters of the "Headless Horseman"

Maurice Gerald is the main character, a poor mustanger in the USA and a wealthy baronet in his homeland.
Louise Poindexter is Maurice's lover.
Woodley Poindexter - Louise's father, a planter.
Cassius Calhoun - Woodley's nephew, a retired military man with a scandalous reputation, loves Louise, shot himself at the final trial.
Henry Poindexter - Louise's brother, killed and beheaded by his cousin, who mistook him for Maurice, his corpse and is the "Headless Horseman".
Old Zebulon Stump is a hunter, a friend of Maurice who saved his life and proved his innocence.
Miguel Diaz - Mexican, nicknamed "El Coyote", was executed after the murder of Isidora.
Isidora Covarubio De Los Llanos - Diaz's lover, loves Maurice, killed by Diaz.
Major Ringwood - officer, delayed Maurice's trial for three days.
Spangler is a tracker, participated in the search for Henry or his body, one of the first to see the "Headless Horseman".
Pluto is a servant in the Poindexter family.
Felim O'Neill is Maurice's servant and foster brother.
Tara - Maurice's dog, saved him several times from coyotes.
Sam Manley is the leader of the regulars, the only one who believed in Maurice's innocence.
Riders, regulars, people on trial, Diaz's accomplices, servants.
Oberdofer - the owner of the inn

The action takes place in the 1850s. Wagons are driving along the Texas prairie - this is the ruined planter Woodley Poindexter moving from Louisiana to Texas. With him are son Henry, daughter Louise, and nephew, retired Captain Cassius Calhoun. Suddenly they lose track - in front of them is a scorched prairie. The way to the caravan is shown by a young rider in a Mexican costume. The caravan continues to move, but soon the rider appears again, this time to save the settlers from the hurricane. He says his name is Maurice Gerald, or Maurice Mustanger, because he is a hunter of wild horses. Louise falls in love with him at first sight.

Soon there will be a housewarming dinner at the Casa del Corvo, where the Poindexters have taken up residence. In the midst of the celebration, Maurice the Mustanger appears with a herd of horses, which he caught on Poindexter's order. Among them, a mustang of rare speckled coloration stands out. Poindexter offers a large sum for him, but the mustanger refuses the money and presents the mustang as a gift to Louise.

After some time, the commandant of Fort Inge, located near Casa del Corvo, arranges a return reception - a picnic on the prairie, during which hunting for mustangs is supposed. Maurice is the guide. As soon as the picnic participants settle down at a halt, a herd of wild mares appears, and a speckled mare, galloping after them, takes Louise to the prairie. Maurice is afraid that the speckled, having caught up with her herd, will not try to get rid of the rider, and rushes in pursuit. Soon he catches up with the girl, but they face a new danger - a herd of wild stallions jumps on them, extremely aggressive at this time of the year. Maurice and Louise have to flee, but they finally get rid of the pursuit only when the mustanger kills the leader with a well-aimed shot.

The heroes are left alone, and Maurice invites Louise to his hut. The girl is pleasantly surprised to see books and other little things there, testifying to the education of the owner.

Meanwhile, Cassius Calhoun, burning with jealousy, follows in the footsteps of Maurice and Louise and eventually meets them. They slowly ride side by side, and jealousy flares up in him with renewed vigor.

In the evening of the same day, men drink in the bar of the only hotel in the village "On a Halt", which is kept by the German Franz Oberdofer. Calhoun proposes a toast that is insulting to Irishman Maurice Gerald and pushes him in the process. In response, he throws a glass of whiskey in Calhoun's face. It is clear to everyone that the quarrel will end in a shootout.

Indeed, right there, in the bar, there is a duel. Both members are wounded, but the mustanger still manages to put a gun to Calhoun's temple. He is forced to apologize.

Because of their injuries, Calhoun and Maurice the mustanger must stay in bed, but Calhoun is surrounded by care, and the mustanger languishes in a squalid inn. But soon baskets of provisions begin to arrive at him - these are gifts from Isidora Covarubio de Los Llanos, who he once saved from the hands of drunken Indians and fell in love with him. This becomes known to Louise, and, tormented by jealousy, she arranges a meeting with the mustanger. During the meeting, a declaration of love takes place between them.

When Louise once again goes for a horseback ride, her father forbids her to leave on the pretext that the Comanches are on the warpath. The girl surprisingly easily agrees and begins to get involved in archery - with the help of arrows, she exchanges letters with Maurice the Mustanger.

The exchange of letters is followed by secret nightly meetings in the courtyard of the estate. Cassius Calhoun becomes a witness of one of these meetings, who wants to use this as an excuse to deal with the mustanger at the hands of Henry Poindexter. There is a quarrel between Henry and Maurice, but Louise persuades her brother to catch up with the mustanger and apologize to him.

Enraged, Calhoun tries to set a certain Miguel Diaz on Maurice, who has his own scores with the Irish because of Isidora, but he turns out to be dead drunk. Then Calhoun himself rides after Maurice and Henry.

The next day, it turns out that Henry is missing. Suddenly, his horse appears at the gate of the estate with traces of gore. It is suspected that the young man was attacked by the Comanches. Fort officers and planters gather to search.

Suddenly, the owner of the inn appears. He says that the mustanger paid his bill the night before and moved out. Soon Henry Poindexter appeared at the hotel. Finding out in which direction the mustanger left, he galloped after him.

The search party is driving along a forest clearing, when suddenly, against the backdrop of the setting sun, a headless horseman appears before the eyes of the audience. The detachment tries to follow in his footsteps, but the tracks are lost in the "chalk prairie". It was decided to postpone the search until the morning, and the major, commandant of the fort, reports the evidence found by the tracker Spangler, excluding the involvement of the Indians. Suspicion of the murder falls on Maurice Gerald, and everyone decides to go to his hut in the morning.

At this time, the hunter Zebulon (Zeb) Stump, a friend of Maurice, comes to Casa del Corvo. Louise recounts to him the rumors about her brother's death and the involvement of Maurice Gerald in it. At her request, the hunter goes to the mustanger to save him from being lynched.

When the hunter is in the hut, the dog Tara comes running with Maurice's calling card tied to his collar, It says in blood where he can be found. Zeb Stump shows up just in time to save an injured friend from a jaguar. Meanwhile, Louise sees a rider who looks like Maurice from the roof of the manor. After galloping after him, she finds Isidora's note to Maurice in the forest. Jealousy flares up in the girl, and she decides, contrary to decency, to go to her lover to check her suspicions. In the mustanger's hut, she meets Isidora. At the sight of a rival, she leaves the hut.

Thanks to Isidora, the search party easily finds the home of the mustanger, in which Woodley Poindexter discovers his daughter. He sends her home. And just in time, since the assembled are already ready to lynch the alleged killer, thanks in large part to the false testimony of Calhoun. She manages to delay the execution for a while, but passions flare up with renewed vigor, and the unconscious mustanger is again ready to be pulled up on the bough. This time, Zeb Stump saves him, demanding a fair trial. Maurice Gerald is taken to the guardhouse at Fort Inge.

Zeb Stump follows in the footsteps of the actors in the drama. During the search, he manages to see the headless horseman at close range, and he is convinced that this is Henry Poindexter.

In anticipation of the trial, Calhoun asks his uncle for the hand of Louise - he is his debtor and is unlikely to be able to refuse. But Louise doesn't want to hear about it. Then, at the trial, Calhoun talks about her secret meeting with the mustanger and about the quarrel between the latter and Henry. Louise is forced to admit that this is so.

From the story of Maurice at the trial, it becomes known that after a quarrel, they met with Henry in the forest, reconciled and, as a sign of friendship, exchanged capes and hats. Henry left, and Maurice decided to spend the night in the forest. Suddenly he was awakened by a shot, but he did not attach any importance to it and fell asleep again, and in the morning he found the corpse of Henry with his head cut off. To deliver him to his relatives, the corpse had to be saddled by a mustang belonging to Maurice, since Henry's horse did not want to carry this gloomy burden. The mustanger himself mounted Henry's horse, but did not pick up the reins, so he could not control him when he carried. As a result of a frantic ride, the mustanger hit his head on a bough and flew off his horse.

Just then, Zeb Stump appears, bringing Calhoun and the Headless Horseman with him. He saw Calhoun try to capture the rider to get rid of the evidence, and makes it clear in court that Calhoun is the killer. The evidence is a bullet extracted from the corpse with Calhoun's initials and a letter addressed to him, which he used as a wad. Convicted Calhoun tries to run, but Maurice the mustanger catches him.

Calhoun confesses to the murder, which he committed by mistake: he aimed at the mustanger, not knowing that he had switched clothes with his cousin. But before hearing the verdict, Calhoun shoots the mustanger, who is saved from death by a medallion donated by Louise. In desperation, Calhoun puts a bullet in his forehead.

It immediately turns out that Maurice Gerald is the owner of a large fortune. He marries Louise and redeems the heir of Calhoun (it turns out that he had a son) Casa del Corvo. With them, the servant Felim O'Neil and Zeb Stump live happily, supplying game to the table. Ten years later, Maurice and Louise already have six children.

Shortly after the wedding of Maurice and Louise, Miguel Diaz kills Isidora out of jealousy, for which he is hanged on the first bitch.

The heroes are left alone, and Maurice invites Louise to his hut. The girl is pleasantly surprised to see books and other little things there, testifying to the education of the owner.

Indeed, right there, in the bar, there is a duel. Both members are wounded, but the mustanger still manages to put a gun to Calhoun's temple. He is forced to apologize.

Because of their injuries, Calhoun and Maurice the Mustanger must stay in bed, but Calhoun is cared for and the mustanger languishes in a shabby inn. But soon baskets of provisions begin to arrive to him - these are the gifts of Isidora Covarubio de Los Llanos, who he once saved from the hands of drunken Indians and is in love with him. This becomes known to Louise, and, tormented by jealousy, she arranges a meeting with the mustanger.