"THE TRAIL TO SEVEN PINES" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

low, and in the middle.
Within a year two of the Rocking R hands had been dry-gulched and more than a thousand
head of cattle run off.
Small outfits that had heretofore scarcely made their way began to wax fat, their
herds growing, their shipments getting larger. Their owners began to spend more money
as the Rocking R spent less. New faces were seen around the country, too, and where
the Rocking R hands under the firm leadership of Old Man Ronson had kept the town
cleaned up, now there were many loafers and hangers-on, most of whom had money or
seemed to know how to get it.
The Gold Stake was booming and many restless eyes began to look thoughtfully toward
the monthly gold shipments that went out by stage. Meanwhile, the Ronson cattle herds,
while still vast, had thinned down. Rustlers took to fighting over them, and one
night four known rustlers were killed on the Rocking R range by other rustlers.
Small mines began to pay off, and two of them were looted after cleanups. In one
case the owner was killed. In another, masked men had beaten two of the workers at
the mine and taken gold from them. A prospector was murdered for his outfit. A freight
wagon was looted on the outskirts of town and the teamster murdered. From a quiet
community under the rough hand of Ronson, the area had become wild, lawless, and
almost beyond handling. Sheriff Hadley had replaced the previous sheriff, who had
been dry-gulched in the town itself.
"There's always a ringleader," Hopalong suggested. "Who is it runs Seven Pines?"
"Nobody, actually. The ranchers used to follow Ronson, but lately they have been
listening more and more to Pony Harper."
"The horse trader?"
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THE TRAIL TO SEVEN PINES
"That's the one, but he owns a small ranch, too, and he is a cattle buyer as well
as owner of the livery stable. There's also Sheriff Hadley, of course, and Dr. Marsh."
There were footsteps on the boardwalk and Katie glanced out the window. "This here's
Clarry Jacks coming in now," she said, moving away from Hopalong. "He's someone that
the
newer element around here have been following more and more."
Before he could ask what she meant, the door opened and two men walked into the room.
The first was a black-browed, bowlegged man with a thick body and deep-set black
eyes. Yet it was the man behind him who drew Hopalong's attention.
Clarry Jacks was handsome. Gray eyes and chestnut hair, a lithe, erect figure, and
an easy, carefree walk made him the natural focus of attention. He wore two silver-plated,
pearl-handled guns tied down in elaborate hand-carved holsters.
"Howdy, Katie!" Jacks grinned widely. "Set 'em up for us, will you? Two cups of coffee
and a half dozen of those sinkers of yours!"
"You set down, Clarry," Katie said severely, "and you'll get waited on same as anybody
else. The same for your friend"- she shot a glance at Hoppy-"Dud Leeman."
Hopalong glanced at Jacks, who had turned toward him. "Stranger?" Jacks asked.
"Have you seen me around before?" Hopalong asked coolly.
"No. That's why I asked."
"If you haven't seen me around before, I must be a stranger." Hopalong smiled. Turning
back toward Katie, he asked quietly, "How's for another cup of Java? You sure make
good coffee."
Jacks was irritated at this flouting of his importance and he showed it. He started