"Milo Talon" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

man, of fifty or more, very spare, with
a.
drooping gray mustache. "I just got tired of sleepin' on the ground and gettin' up
at three in the morning."
As we moved into the kitchen he glanced at me again. "We crossed trails afore, you
an' me. Back up Montana way. I was friendly to some kinfolk of yours. Tennessee folks.
Feller rode shotgun out of Pioche later, with a man name of Rountree handlin' the
ribbons. I drove stage opposite to him."
"Nice to know you. Know what you mean about sleepin' on the ground. Get tired of
it m'self, time to time."
The cook dried his hands on his apron. "Got some roast beef tonight, scramble up
a few eggs if you want. Don't usually do it this time of night, but you being' a
friend an' all-"
"Be a pleasure. I haven't seen an egg in three months. But I'll take some of that
roast beef, too."
"Figured on it." He paused, taking my measure. "My name is Schafer, German Schafer.
The German's my proper name."
"I know you now. Cooked for the Lazy O-Bar, didn't you? I was reppin' for the YOverY."
"Know you. That Lazy O-Bar the boys used to call the Biscuit because of that flat
kind of O we used. It was a good outfit."
Information was where you found it, so I suggested, "Rode in at the call of Jefferson
Henry in the car yonder. Said he had a job for me."
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10Louis l'amour
"Henry? Never comes in here. Eats in that car of his'n, but I seen him. I seen that
bodyguard of his'n, too." Schafer slanted me a look from under his brows. "You seen
him? Tall, slope-shouldered man? Heavier'n you, almost as dark. Folks say he's mighty
handy with a gun."
"Does he have a name?"
"John Topp. Southern man, I'd guess. Knows what he's about but he don't talk to nobody.
Nobody. Least it's Henry himself."
Glancing past him I could see that but three or four tables were occupied. I started
that way, then held up. "Henry been around long?"
"Just pulled in." German Schafer lowered his voice. "Some of the boys was commentin'
that he had his car side-tracked at a water-tank about twenty miles back. Stayed
nearly a week. They done some ridin' from there. Carried horses in separate cars."
Nobody even turned a head when I walked in from the kitchen and sat down, taking
a seat in a corner where I could watch both doors and the street outside. The doorway
where I'd seen the watcher was a mite too far along to be seen from my seat.
There were curtains at the window and red-and-white tablecloths and napkins. No tin
plates here but actual china, heavy but clean.
At one table sat a rancher and his wife, fresh off the range for a change of cooking,
at another table two railroad men in blue shirts and overalls. A drummer with a flashy
imitation diamond stick-pin, and at a table near me a girl, quite young, quite pretty,
and somewhat overdressed in obviously new clothing.
Her glance caught mine briefly, seemed to linger, then passed on. It was not an attempt
at flirtation but a half-scared, half-curious sort of look.
Schafer came from the kitchen with a plate of beef, scrambled eggs, and fried potatoes.
He went back for a pot of coffee and a cup.
With my meal and the coffee before me I took my time. There was much to consider.