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

right nice job, but it don't pay much. A man can only do it so long and then he's
broke. Of course I expect Jacks doesn't need much money. If you have friends around,
a man can live off them."
Her eyes flashed. "Why! Why, that's not fair! How can you say a thing like that?"
Hopalong looked innocent. He was momentarily sorry he had spoken so and was not quite
sure why he had. For all he knew, Clarry Jacks might be a pillar of society. Only
if he were, then all Hopalong's instincts were at fault.
"Perhaps I was wrong, ma'am," he said apologetically.
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"Only a man has to make a livin' somehow. He rides for somebody, owns a ranch, prospects,
works in a mine, tends bar, or something. Maybe Jacks has an income or something.
I don't know."
Lenny Ronson eyed him without pleasure. Her continued championing of Jacks had irritated
her brother and worried her sister. Nevertheless, the dashing gunman appealed to
her. He was so fearless, yet so gay. He was far from the cool, quiet man her brother
was, and Lenny was full of fire herself and furious that the ranch could be stolen
blind while her brother did nothing.
The only solution for the Rocking R was to make Clarry Jacks foreman. Then the stealing
would be ended in a hurry. Yet, although they possessed equal shares, her brother
had been given complete control over the operation of the ranch. It had been so provided
in Cattle Bob's will. To make matters worse, from Lenny's point of view, Irene almost
always sided with Bob when they discussed matters of ranch policy.
"That's a beautiful horse," Lenny said, changing the subject.
Cassidy nodded with real pleasure. "He sure is! Best cutting horse I ever rode, an'
I've ridden some. Got more brains than most humans."
"Are you staying long? I mean, did Bob hire you just for the roundup?"
"Don't rightly know," Hopalong mused. "Nothin' was mentioned about what I was to
do or the time I'd be here. I heard he needed hands, so hit him for the job."
"Did you hear that we had lost some hands?" Lenny demanded. "Did Bob tell you that?"
"Yeah, he mentioned it, and some other folks did." Hopalong let his eyes run over
the sunlit hills and drew a deep breath
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of the fresh, dancing spring air. "I reckon every range has its troubles."
He carried the saddle under a shed and threw it across a pole kept for the purpose,
hanging up the bridle and bit. "How many hands have you got now?"
"Only five. We used to have anywhere from twelve to twenty on this place." Lenny's
voice was bitter. "It's the biggest ranch around here."
"They been workin' here long?"
"Only two of them. Frenchy Ruyters and Tex Milligan. Frenchy has been with us since
I was a child. Tex hired on about four years ago."
"What about the others?"
"You'd better decide for yourself. You'll have to work with them. They are good hands,
I think. Kid Newton has been with us about two weeks. The others hired on about a
month ago. They are saddle partners, Joe Hartley and Dan Dusark."
She was silent for several minutes while Hopalong studied the ranch with careful,
appraising eyes. The buildings and the grounds were well kept; the stock he had seen