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The Bear’s Home
Emilia Hartley
© Copyright 2017 by 9591451 CANADA INC. - All rights
reserved.
The contents of this book may not be reproduced, duplicated or
transmitted without direct written permission from the author, except
Legal Notice:
This book is copyright protected. This is only for personal use.
No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the
Emilia Hartley
Chapter One
roused Thorn’s inner beast with a snarl. Thorn didn’t like crowds.
The Kodiak bear that shared his body liked them even less. Crowds
were like herds. Herds were only good for thinning. His favorite table
was in the corner, with the shortest walk to the bar and the john. He
strode over to it and dropped his chainsaw on top.
The power tool made the table rock and knocked over a couple
pint glasses. Two of the four men occupying the table yelped and
jumped up to avoid a lapful of cold suds. Thorn grabbed one of the
vacated chairs and sat down.
few huge gulps. Large as the kid was, Thorn knew he was good for
about three seconds’ worth of fight. Even if the other three backed
him up, there wasn’t more than three, four minutes entertainment in
it, tops.
“We were just leaving, Thorn.” The two other sitters rose.
The angry kid shot each of them a look. “Are you kidding me?
One of them put a hand on the farm boy’s shoulder and turned
him toward the door. “We don’t want no trouble. Night, Thorn.”
Stretching out his long legs, Thorn watched them go. Another
table of locals shot a few glances his way, and followed suit. And
then another. His eyes fell on a table of four guys in the corner. The
Marino brothers, or in-laws, or cousins, or whatever, each shared
their essence with an inner animal like Thorn. But these guys were
wolves. Even if you couldn’t tell from their human forms, they were
wolf-shifters. The constant side-eyes from their close huddle told the
tale of pack hunters. Pack hunters were pussies.
the Squirrels Nuts from her father, and tended bar just about all the
time. Although she wore loose flannel shirts, Thorn’s instinct told
him she had huge knockers. She swiped a rag over the spilled beer.
though she leaned close, her baggy shirt concealed her fun stuff.
The wary bear in him surveyed the bar, as if expecting to see
someone. Most of the locals made a mass exodus for the parking lot.
Now, aside from the Marinos, the only people left in the bar
were people Thorn didn’t know. From their pressed LL Bean duds,
guys on either side of her. The beast inside him sensed her first, but
it had taken his eyes a while to spot her. Legs ran half a mile to a
despite the jukebox stopping and most of the crowd dispersing. Her
voice was a little raspy, and she practically breathed in his ear. He
“Yep.”
Then he tilted a little, looking past Sally to get a better look at
Her jacket hung on one of those little clamp hooks that nobody
ever used, revealing a tight white blouse. It hugged the curved,
a long neck. The skin there was flawless; a sort of smooth, tan that
just made you want to stroke her. He imagined how soft that neck
must be, and how it would feel to kiss it. Thorn went a little stiff. He
had any friends, he’d make a wager the chick was wearing
stockings. Not nylons. From this angle, she definitely seemed to be a
stockings chick. Nylons looked good, but they were just another
layer of underwear—a frustrating, long-legged layer. Stockings,
now… The thought made him even harder.
Sally worked behind the bar, banging glasses and pitchers
around with a scowl. While he waited for his beer, he watched as the
wondered what she was drinking. The hot blonde seemed a little too
sophisticated for domestic-on-tap. Not from around here; that was
for sure.
Ripple, Oregon, population less than a thousand, sat on the
intersection of Highway 224 and Ripple Road, which eventually
Sally, who frowned at him. This was getting boring in a hurry. Thorn
couldn’t do boring.
gold and green. Cheekbones were high. She pouted out very full lips
in a thoughtful frown. Was she studying him? If she was, he seemed
beseeched him.
Her eyes were bright, and blinking a lot. When she brought the
pitcher to him, he could see her lips trembling. It looked like Sally
was going to puke. Or maybe cry. Holy fuck, he couldn’t think which
was worse. Thorn needed to escape.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hottie get up and sling
on her jacket. As she moved toward the door, the two guys in flannel
flanking her tossed looks over their shoulders. A third guy nodded
back and snagged a backpack from the floor beneath his table. The
three of them followed the blonde into the night.
hitched. Her hands trembled so that she spilled half a pint before
settling the beer. “Thorn, do you know what that woman said to
me?”
***
little sporty car was that he wanted to do this chick from the front,
too. Apparently, the three guys from the bar had the same idea.
From the flush on her cheeks and the flash in her eyes, Thorn got
There were only a few trucks in the gravel lot, the nearest street
light on the opposite corner. Bathed in the neon red of beer signs,
begging for it.” This one had been sitting on the left. He had shaggy
blond hair.
The one from her right wore a hipster beard and stocking cap.
“Look, if it’s a financial thing, we got you covered.”
The third one, who had been sitting alone, reached into his
backpack.
Thorn grabbed him by the collar of his new Grecian blue puffy
vest with his left hand and the backpack with his right. “S’up,
bitches?”
Thorn held the bag away. “Whatcha got in here? Party favors for
dropped both the unconscious man and the bag. “One down.”
“What the fuck, dude, this isn’t any of your business,” blonde
guy whined.
morons roughing her up, she didn’t have a hair out of place. Plus,
head back in a way that made his crotch twitch. “I got this covered.
She beeped open her car door. When she slid inside, her skirt
rode up. Thorn’s eyes were magnetized to the dark, lacy band
around her upper thigh. Stockings. And a shiny little clip. His
vocabulary of lingerie was limited, but he came up with garters.
highway. She turned left. Civilization was to the right, to the west.
So she must be staying at the B&B. Thorn watched until her taillights
separate directions at the same time. That left only the idiot on the
ground. The guy in the blue vest stirred with a moan. Thorn kicked
over to the dumpster. Thorn considered putting Mr. Blue Vest in the
dumpster as well, but he had beer to drink. Plus his chainsaw was
still in the bar.
***
Thorn had a weird thought that, despite all the curvy goodness,
there was a lot more to the gorgeous blonde than just bangability.
Her confidence, even in the face of three creeps and a bag of stun-
guns and ropes and shit, inspired the thought that maybe she
thoughts. Thorn didn’t think he could make it past Sally and into the
john to wait her out. Especially since this was her bar, and she’d be
closing. Crying. Fucking swell. Puking might be better—or at least
quicker. Since she held his chainsaw hostage, he sat down across
from her.
to run the fuck away, chainsaw or not. “She said—she said I’d have
Shit. He hadn’t even had a second pitcher yet. “What the hell is
a gastropub?”
wailing and sobbing continued. She blew her nose in her bar rag.
Thorn didn’t know what she was talking about. Didn’t want to
know, really. Sally buried her face in her snotty bar towel and
Felicity Malkin, even the name made his dick a little hard. Once
again, he thought about driving over to the bed-and-breakfast. What
would he say to her? Hey, baby, you are so fine that even your name
gives me a hard-on.
Smooth.
wants to buy this dump? Why? There isn’t even an apostrophe after
Squirrels. Or would it be Squirrel, apostrophe ess?”
double-u tee eff, Thorn? This was my dad’s place—it’s how I make a
living.”
the idea that anyone would build anything around here, each idea
sass, just a half mile down the road. Thorn would definitely pay this
Felicity rose from the four-poster bed, staring out the window at
the gray morning. In this hick outpost, she would no doubt have to
drive for half an hour to find a decent latte. Well, she would fix that
soon enough. Houses out here were cheap, and so was land.
Although Portland, an hour or so away, was booming, people hadn’t
flocked this far out just yet. Or, rather, hadn’t been priced out this far
yet. She had to get in on the game early. Eventually, people would
get priced out of their current living situation, and come running
east.
She’d spent the week scouting the area, and already had a place
picked out for a shopping center. Nothing too big, just an anchor
supermarket and a bunch of little businesses—a decent café among
them. If she could swing the financing, she would build it at the
same time as the apartments went up. Ripple, Oregon, a damp little
nothing village in the middle of the woods would work its way onto
the map.
the bar offer. The place was horrible, and didn’t even have a proper
apostrophe in its name. Still, her proposition was more than fair.
As she soaped up her body, she thought about how the night
nearly ended in utter disaster. Felicity should have paid more
attention to her animal senses. The two morons hitting on her were
on only a human level. A sick and evil level, but they didn’t have the
beast within to back their play.
That guy, that huge guy, if he hadn’t come out after her, Felicity
would’ve had to shift to fend the asshole creeps off. While she
doubted three potential rapists would go to the authorities when
they saw the monster she became, there was always the chance
they would out of spite. The thought of the contents of the backpack
shirt, he had pecs like tectonic plates. Behind his beard, you could
use his jaw as an anvil. With shoulders that broad, he probably had
to build. She didn’t have the time to get involved, even if the big
man looked like a whole lot of fun involvement.
Once she got outside, she realized her empire building would
have to be put on hold for a while. She sighed and folded her arms.
“For fuck’s sake.” Someone had turned her sporty little rental upside
stuck, damn it. Did her insurance cover this? Pacing around the car,
she didn’t see any damage. It looked like someone had gently
turned it over, like a turtle on its back. Unsure what to do, she went
back inside.
Luckily, the B&B had pretty decent espresso. She sat in the
doily-covered dining room, wondering who the hell you called when
your car was upturned on its roof. Who would do such a thing, and
why? Two suspects came to mind immediately: the three creeps,
and the giant dude. Three guys could probably tip the little car over
if they started rocking it. She didn’t see any damage to the paint on
the sides, and no dents. And maybe, just maybe, Mr. Pecs was
thing for Mr. Giant. If she cried on his shoulder, would he get all
of the owners of the place, walked into the dining room rubbing her
hands on a towel.
“Coffee’s fine, thanks.”
Mrs. Shoat, who looked about three hundred years old, smiled
and cast her eyes away. “There is something I wanted to discuss
with you.”
Thinking the woman had discussed selling this place with her
husband, the also three hundred year old Mr. Shoat, Felicity leaned
The gas station was a half-mile down the road, and there were
no sidewalks, and Felicity had only brought heels for the trip. Even
as she hiked along the empty highway, she wondered if the
bumpkins who ran the place could even help turn her car back over.
A big white truck with a trailer roared by, the male occupants
hooting and catcalling and whistling as they rode past. Did everyone
around here drive a big white pickup with a trailer? Was every man a
total asshole? Again, thoughts of the huge lumberjack came to her.
was the one who upturned her ride. Then he was a bigger asshole
than the rest combined.
Still, she didn’t really need his help. Felicity Malkin was no one’s
damsel in distress. At the gas station, she strutted into the little
structure that sold bait and chips and walked up to the counter.
***
to throw at the TV. Anger only fully roused him, and he got out of
bed.
Flannel shirt thrown on, he slipped his feet into his boots and
walked outside in his tighty-whities. Two sights struck him with equal
dread. On the ground just beyond the porch, his satellite dish lay
half stuck in the mud. Thorn was good at knocking things down, but
not so much so at putting things up. No cartoons, no cooking shows,
Someone or something had killed the deer and brought them to his
yard. Displayed them.
“Thee. Fuck.”
“Hey, yo, neighbor. I’ve got kids. And a wife. Think you could
put some pants on?”
Laramie Marino. The guy owned a small plot of land that just
shifters when Laramie’s first born turned into a wolf cub under the
full moon at age two, and pissed on Thorn’s truck. At that point, it
sort of became obvious.
“Can you help me put my satellite dish back up? If I put some
pants on.”
Laramie came around the fence. “Holy shit, you got deer in your
yard. You go a little bear-crazy last night?”
truck.
drunk. “Nope.”
The wolf-shifter examined the carcasses. “Fresh kills. Nice and
fresh. But you better get rid of them. Someone might accuse you of
had seen billboards, ads on TV. Report any unusual animal activity to
local law enforcement. Reading between the lines, some agency out
a message. Or a lot of free venison. It’s like what our cat does,
The wolf shrugged. “I got kids. And I sure as hell ain’t getting a
dog.”
appraisal.
“Wendy, go back in the freakin’ house.”
Mister.”
Thorn didn’t like to pry, mostly because he didn’t give a shit, but
it seemed all the Marino boys married alpha bitches. Not being a
social animal, the bear in him just didn’t get it. Wendy stood, hip-
shot, in her house coat. She was a good looker in a lupine way, tall
and willowy. Despite giving birth to a whole pack, her body was taut,
skin smooth, hair long and silky. Given the opportunity, Thorn was
pretty sure he’d--
“I can get rid of the deer for you. Pack’s got a lotta mouths to feed,
and a little out of season venison would be great for Sunday dinner.”
Thorn cast a mournful look at the UFO crashed in the dirt.
“I’ll go get my tools.” Laramie started back for the road. “You go
put your tools away.”
Chapter Three
Half an hour later, the wolf stood on the top of a ladder with a
seem like a message,” Laramie said between zips of the power tool.
While the eight-foot dish weighed only about seventy-five
pounds, Thorn had been holding it up for twenty minutes. It made
him cranky. “Message from who? What the fuck do three dead deer
mean?”
“You’re the apex predator around here, pal. I’d have to guess
this is some kinda challenge.” He zipped in a few more screws. “You
know, ‘I’m as big and bad as you, I can kill the prey in your territory’
kinda thing.”
“Kodiak.”
and moose?”
can do it alone. That’s one point. Another point is, my people can
take down the big prey much better in the winter—when your
people hibernate. Easier for us in the snow. And the third point is
that bears of your size have been known to prey on freakin’ whales.”
“Are you talking about polar bears? I ain’t no fluffy white sissy,”
Thorn growled.
“Easy, pal. Kodiaks and polar bears are about the same size. I’m
just making a point about scale here. So I gotta say, you’d better
Thorn shook his head. “I was bitten when I was little. I’m not a
to The Vet.”
talk to?”
about shifters. The Vet’s got a place out by the swamp near Little
Crater Lake.”
all the way to Little Crater Lake. Still, if the wolf was right, someone
was after his position as apex. Whatever that meant. “Thanks for
“No need to thank me, no need to pay me.” Laramie grabbed his
tools and started for his house. “Just keep your fucking pants on
around my wife.”
***
would pull such a prank on her? Or was this more of a threat than a
prank? She had already made offers to several homeowners out
here, and most of them were receptive. Only that bar owner had
gotten really upset. From the way she made puppy dog eyes at that
lumberjack dude…. The giant man was still her best suspect.
Mrs. Shoat was preparing lunch when she entered. Fish scent
made the beast within Felicity roll on its back and purr.
“Get your car right-side up, dear?” Mrs. Shoat called from the
kitchen.
Felicity sat in the dining room. “I did, thanks. Have you given
my offer any thought?”
The old woman hunched into the dining room with a plate of
fish sandwiches. “Me and the mister are talking it over. We raised
our kids here, you know. Lots of memories. Frankly, we don’t have
many guests. I’m not sure why you’d even want to buy the place.”
She understood that she was the only guest, and Felicity
enjoyed the privacy. “I have big plans for this part of the world. You
do get tourists staying here, right?”
orphan. I don’t know the whole story. I think his family came from
the east of here, maybe Idaho. He was raised by a single mother,
who took him to live with relatives in Alaska, I think. There was
Mrs. Shoat gobbled the rest of her sandwich. “No idea. I just
know that he inherited a lot of land here. He came when he was
is a bit of a loner.”
The old woman reached across the table and put her hand on
Felicity’s. With a knowing look and a wink, Mrs. Shoat said, “I’m
lot of land was just her type. It might be a lot more fun to go the
seduction route with him than her usual cat-and-mouse intimidation
tactics.
Mrs. Shoat read the look in her eyes. “He’s a good looking boy,
that Thorn. Tall as a tree, with that handsome face and that
beautiful, sculpted muscular body and that tiny, tight little butt.”
Mr. Shoat scowled at her. Mrs. Shoat patted his arm. “If you’re
into that sort of thing,” she said.
Felicity figured any woman with a pulse would be into that sort
of thing. Not to mention the man smelled of pine and sawdust, had
long, flowing hair and eyes the color of a dusk sky in autumn.
Though it made her seduction plan all the more enticing, she
fully occupied. Elevating her inner animal, she gave orders to find
reputable tenants before the end of next week. The subtle
another meal with the Shoats. Luckily, they were busy at doing
whatever B&B owners got busy at, and she ate alone. Felicity’s eyes
strayed to the photos above the mantle. Were all of those kids the
her stuff. Felicity dressed in a snug, low-cut V-neck sweater and her
shortest skirt. She’d seen the way Thorn had stared at her stockings
when she’d gotten in the car. Opting for the laciest ones she owned,
she surveyed herself in the mirror. You could see maybe an inch of
Just for the sake of going over the top, she added tall patent
leather boots with a three-inch heel. She made a last turn before the
same place he went last night. She wrapped herself in a trench coat.
No need to bring out the big guns until she needed them. Hopping
into her up-righted sports coupe, she made the two-minute drive
and wedged the little vehicle between two giant white trucks in the
plowed into her as she reached the door. Few men stood so tall, or
so broad at the shoulder, and this one dressed in a flannel shirt and
jeans. Even the hair and beard were similar to Thorn’s, but shorter
and shot with gray. His eyes met hers, a cold dark green that
past. Felicity shivered a little from the man’s glance. Nope, not Thorn
at all.
Customers were a few deep at the bar, tables were full, conversation
roared over the jukebox and no one looked ready to run away or pee
their pants. She eye-browed and half-smiled her way onto a bar
stool. When she caught the bar owner’s eye, Felicity crooked a
finger.
“I don’t care what you offer me, I’m not selling,” the woman
with the big boobs hidden under a man’s shirt scowled.
The bar owner paled. It took her a few heartbeats to find her
“Sally.”
“About Thorn.”
Sally’s face closed down quicker than a rat trap. “What about
Thorn?”
As Felicity suspected, Sally was into the big lumberjack. Not that
expression, her lack of words, brought her to realize that Thorn did
not reciprocate. She was dealing with a little unrequited love here,
for?”
Felicity blew out her cheeks and cast her eyes skyward. “I think
he was trying to save my life last night. It was really just a big
“Well, he’s got a big one, all right,” Sally said. Then her face
Oh, this poor sucker of a girl was really stuck on the big galoot.
“I just wanted to buy him a drink and put things right before I leave
town.”
one around here will fight him, so he drives around looking for a
bunch of bikes parked outside a bar on Saturday nights.”
likes fucking.”
Sally’s face beamed like a stop light. Felicity gave the redhead
the stink eye. The woman wasn’t unattractive. “You know this from
experience?”
“Ha!” The woman knocked back her beer. “Don’t I wish. Man’s
got a reputation, though. And it’s not like any gal wouldn’t want
some of that.”
thought to herself. Maybe I can pull a damsel in distress bit for the
lumberjack.
But her suspicion was confirmed. Sally was smitten with the
not interested. Felicity’s experience was that most men were into
huge boobs. Was there something else about the bartender that
made Thorn shy away? If there was, she would have to make sure
True to his word, Laramie Marino and his clan cleared the deer
from Thorn’s yard. Even with his bear’s senses, he hadn’t smelled,
heard or seen them in action. They were a sneaky bunch, those wolf
shifters.
Something was very wrong about that. The fact that he hadn’t
sensed them, even if he was engaged in binge watching a Good Eats
Marino said. Sighing, he figured there was only one way to find out.
It was a little cool for all but the staunchest campers, still too
warm for ski season, and the grounds around Little Crater Lake were
unoccupied. The small lake looked like a sapphire dropped in the
middle of leaf litter. Thorn parked his truck and let his senses guide
him to the swamp. A few minutes’ walk brought him to a log cabin
with a swayback roof. He read the shingle hanging from a porch
support:
Sybil Auger
Wildlife Rehabilitation Consultant
brought his blood up. Thorn creaked up the porch steps and
bobcat?”
the rafters and cages lining the walls. Something deep within his
animal psyche wanted to turn tail and run. Caged wildlife squawked
stare.
Game jacket, her tits looked perky in a tie-dyed shirt and his
swear word.
Thorn, a little taken aback, felt his jaw drop. No human had ever
pegged him, and not even another shifter had identified his inner
From her surgical tray, she lifted a gemstone that mirrored the
appearance of Little Crater Lake and peered at him through it. With
a sigh and a frown, she dropped the precious stone and folded her
around here.”
With a head shake and an eye roll, the woman turned back to
her work. Something had caught in the hawks wings. Fishing line,
Thorn thought, and the scent of avian blood drifted in the cubic
space. With deft hands, the woman carefully cut and pulled the
string free.
Thorn.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Melchor de Santa Cruz. Si el recopilador de ellos fué, como
creemos, el historiador guipuzcoano del mismo apellido, que pasó
en Toledo la última parte de su vida, allí mismo pudo disfrutar Santa
Cruz su pequeña colección manuscrita é incorporarla en la suya,
más rica y metódica que ninguna de las precedentes y de las
posteriores.
Poco sabemos de las circunstancias personales de este benemérito
escritor, salvo que era natural de la villa de Dueñas en Castilla la
Vieja y vecino de la ciudad de Toledo. Su condición debía de ser
humilde y cortos sus estudios, puesto que dice en el prólogo de sus
Cien Tratados: «Mi principal intento fué solamente escribir para los
que no saben leer más de romance, como yo, y no para los doctos».
Y dedicando al Rey D. Felipe el Prudente la segunda parte de dicha
obra, da á entender otra vez que toda su lectura era de libros en
lengua vulgar: «El sosiego tan grande y dichosa paz que en los
bienaventurados tiempos de Vuestra Magestad hay, son causa que
florezcan en ellos todas las buenas artes y honestos ejercicios; y
que no solamente los hombres doctos, mas los ignorantes como yo,
se ocupen en cosas ingeniosas y eruditas, cada uno conforme á su
posibilidad. Yo, poderosísimo señor, he sido siempre aficionado a
gastar el tiempo en leer buenos libros, principal los morales que en
nuestra lengua yo he podido haber (que no han sido pocos), de
donde he sacado estas sentencias».
Todos sus trabajos pertenecen, en efecto, á la literatura vulgar y
paremiológica. Los Cien Tratados[144] son una colección de
máximas y sentencias morales en tercetos ó ternarios de versos
octosílabos, imitando hasta en el metro los Trezientos Proverbios,
Consejos y avisos muy provechosos para discurso de nuestra
humana vida del abogado valenciano D. Pedro Luis Sauz[145]. Del
mismo modo, la Floresta, cuya primera edición es de 1574[146], fué
indudablemente sugerida por el Sobremesa de Timoneda. Pero el
plan de Santa Cruz es más vasto y envuelve un conato de
clasificación seguido con bastante regularidad, que hace fácil el
manejo de su librillo.
Aunque Melchor de Santa Cruz da á entender que no sabía más
lengua que la propia, no le creo enteramente forastero en la italiana,
de tan fácil inteligencia para todo español, y me parece muy
verosímil, aunque no he tenido ocasión de comprobarlo, que
conociese y aprovechara las colecciones de Facezie, motti,
buffonerie et burle del Piovano Arlotto, del Gonella y del Barlacchia:
las Facezie et motti arguti di alcuni eccellentissimi ingegni de
Ludovicico Domenichi (1547); las Hore di recreazione de Ludovico
Guicciardini, no traducidas en aquella fecha al castellano, y algunas
otras ligeras producciones de la misma índole que la Floresta. Y aun
suponiendo que no las hubiese visto en su original, las conocía
indirectamente á través de Timoneda, sin contar con los chistes que
se hubiesen incorporado en la tradición oral. Pero estos cuentos son
fáciles de distinguir del fondo indígena de la Floresta, cuyo
verdadero carácter señala perfectamente el autor en su dedicatoria
á D. Juan de Austria.
«En tanta multitud de libros como cada dia se imprimen y en tan
diversas é ingeniosas invenciones, que con la fertilidad de los
buenos ingenios de nuestra nacion se inventan, me pareció se
habían olvidado de una no ménos agradable que importante para
quien es curioso y aficionado á las cosas propias de la patria, y es la
recopilacion de sentencias y dichos notables de españoles. Los
cuales, como no tengan ménos agudeza, ni ménos peso o gravedad
que los que en libros antiguos están escriptos, antes en parte, como
luego diré, creo que son mejores, estoy maravillado qué ha sido la
causa que no haya habido quien en esto hasta ahora se haya
ocupado. Yo, aunque hombre de ningunas letras y de poco ingenio,
así por intercesión de algunos amigos, que conocieron que tenia
inclinación á esto, como por la naturaleza, que de esta antigua y
noble ciudad de Toledo tengo[147], donde todo el primor y elegancia
del buen decir florece, me he atrevido á tomar esta empresa. Y la
dificultad que en escribir estos dichos hay es la que se tiene en
hallar moneda de buen metal y subida de quilates. Porque así como
aquella es más estimada que debaxo de menos materia contiene
más valor, así aquellos son más excelentes dichos los que en pocas
palabras tienen encerradas muchas y notables sentencias. Porque
unos han de ser graves y entendidos: otros agudos y maliciosos;
otros agradables y apacibles; otros donosos para mover á risa; otros
que lo tengan todo, y otros hay metaforizados, y que toda su gracia
consiste en la semejanza de las cosas que se apropia, de las quales
el que no tiene noticia le parece que es el dicho frio, y que no tiene
donayre, siendo muy al contrario para el que entiende. Otros tienen
su sal en las diversas significaciones de un mismo vocablo; y para
esto es menester que así el que lo escribe, como el que lo lee, tenga
ingenio para sentirlo y juicio para considerarlo...
«En lo que toca al estilo y propiedad con que se debe escribir, una
cosa no me puede dejar de favorecer; y es el lugar donde lo escribo,
cuya autoridad en las cosas que toca al comun hablar es tanta, que
las leyes del Reino disponen que cuando en alguna parte se dudare
de algun vocablo castellano, lo determine el hombre toledano que
alli se hallare[148]. Lo cual por justas causas se mandó juntamente:
la primera porque esta ciudad está en el centro de toda España,
donde es necesario que, como en el corazon se producen más
subtiles espíritus, por la sangre más delicada que allí se envía, así
también en el pueblo que es el corazon de alguna region está la
habla y la conversacion más aprobada que en otra parte de aquel
reino.
«La segunda, por estar lejos del mar, no hay ocasion, por causa del
puerto, á que gentes extrangeras hayan de hacer mucha morada en
él; de donde se sigue corrupcion de la lengua, y aun tambien de las
costumbres.
«La tercera, por la habilidad y buen ingenio de los moradores que en
ella hay; los cuales, o porque el aire con que respiran es delgado, o
porque el clima y constelacion les ayuda, o porque ha sido lugar
donde los Reyes han residido, están tan despiertos para notar
cualquiera impropiedad que se hable, que no es menester se
descuide el que con ellos quisiere tratar desto...».
Es libro curiosísimo, en efecto, como texto de lengua; pero debe
consultarse en las ediciones del siglo xvi, pues en las posteriores,
especialmente en las dos del siglo xviii, se modernizó algo el
lenguaje, además de haberse suprimido ó cercenado varios cuentos
que parecieron libres ó irreverentes, á pesar de la cuerda
prevención que hacía el mismo Santa Cruz en estos versos:
«Tan fácil y proprio dixo que seria á los prelados gastar todas sus
rentas en hazer bien, como al sol el dar luz y calentar». (Fol. 163.)
«Siendo su hijo de once años, le sucedió una noche quedársele
dormido en dos ó tres sitios muy desacomodados; por lo qual dixo
uno que lo avia notado: Este niño halla cama donde quiera, y deve
de ser de bronce ó trae lana en las costillas. R.