"GREY, Zane - Light Of The Western Stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

"Like as not the message is over in his box at the P.O. He'll be
in town to-morrow. He's shipping cattle for Stillwell."

"Meanwhile I must go to a hotel. Will you please--"

If he heard her last words he showed no evidence of it. A noise
outside had attracted his attention. Madeline listened. Low
voices of men, the softer liquid tones of a woman, drifted in
through the open door. They spoke in Spanish, and the voices
grew louder. Evidently the speakers were approaching the
station. Footsteps crunching on gravel attested to this, and
quicker steps, coming with deep tones of men in anger, told of a
quarrel. Then the woman's voice, hurried and broken, rising
higher, was eloquent of vain appeal.

The cowboy's demeanor startled Madeline into anticipation of
something dreadful. She was not deceived. From outside came the
sound of a scuffle--a muffled shot, a groan, the thud of a
falling body, a woman's low cry, and footsteps padding away in
rapid retreat.

Madeline Hammond leaned weakly back in her seat, cold and sick,
and for a moment her ears throbbed to the tramp of the dancers
across the way and the rhythm of the cheap music. Then into the
open door-place flashed a girl's tragic face, lighted by dark
eyes and framed by dusky hair. The girl reached a slim brown
hand round the side of the door and held on as if to support
herself. A long black scarf accentuated her gaudy attire.

"Senor--Gene!" she exclaimed; and breathless glad recognition
made a sudden break in her terror.

"Bonita!" The cowboy leaped to her. "Girl! Are you hurt?"

"No, Senor."

He took hold of her. "I heard--somebody got shot. Was it Danny?"

"No, Senor."

"Did Danny do the shooting? Tell me, girl."

"No, Senor."

"I'm sure glad. I thought Danny was mixed up in that. He had
Stillwell's money for the boys--I was afraid. . . . Say, Bonita,
but you'll get in trouble. Who was with you? What did you do?"

"Senor Gene--they Don Carlos vaqueros--they quarrel over me. I
only dance a leetle, smile a leetle, and they quarrel. I beg