دانلود رمان انگلیسی “مرد اجیر شده”

After the storm, the sky was a brilliant blue. The wind was still, the air clear. The day was so silent that it felt eerie. No birds sang, no dogs barked. The chickens had stopped clucking. The boiling wall of grit that had blown across the prairie only hours before and deposited dirt in great waves across the earth had passed on. Mom and I stood on the porch with our brooms, staring out at the land that was barren of almost everything except dirt and a car that had run into a ditch and been deserted. “First Kansas rolls by and now Texas,” Mom said. It was Texas all right, because the dirt was red. Kansas sent yellow dirt. Oklahoma’s dirt was brown. “We better get to work before the next duster hits. There’s enough dirt in the front room to plant a garden,” she added. “We could wait until the next storm and sweep out after both of them. There’s always a next storm,” I said. I was tired of cleaning the house every time a duster blew through. It meant not only sweeping the floors but dusting furniture, washing dishes, cleaning cupboards, beating carpets, and washing clothes. “By then we’d have to use a shovel,” Mom said. It seemed as if we’d cleaned the house a thousand times, and maybe we had. The first storms in Colorado had started in 1930, seven years ago. I could barely remember a time when the clouds hadn’t been filled with dust instead of rain, when Dad’s fields had been green and not brown. Mom shaded her eyes and looked out toward town. “There’s someone coming.” A man was making his way through the drifts that blocked the road. He moved slowly because he was carrying something. I thought at first it was a calf, maybe one that had gotten lost during the storm. Or it could have been a lamb, although nobody kept sheep anymore. A dog, probably. “Who is he?” Mom shrugged. “Most likely he’s just some poor soul looking for work.” She sighed, because there wasn’t any work, not on our farm, not on anyone’s farm. “We’ll give him a drink of water and a sandwich. That’s the least we can do.” Mom went into the house. The stranger came closer. His clothes were shabby and stiff with dirt, his face burned by the sun.