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

was in good shape. Whatever Bob Ronson might not be as a fighter, he was no rawhider
as a rancher. He believed in running a good place, and he did. This, in good times,
could be a fine place to work.
"We'll have trouble," Lenny said soberly, "at the roundup. We'd be less than honest
if we didn't tell you. There's an outfit east of here who are getting too big for
their hats. Three brothers named Gore from over on Blue Mountain."
"What's the trouble?"
"They want range. Bob thinks they are a little on the rustle too. So does Tex. Anyway,
they've been pushing our stock off land the Rocking R has used for twenty years.
Tex braced them about it and they invited him to start something. All three of
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them were present, and they laughed at him, trying to egg him into going for a gun
so they could kill him.
"John is the worst, I think. But there's little to choose. Windy and Con are almost
as bad. They've boasted they'll run the Rocking R off the range."
There was a rattle of horses' hoofs, and glancing up, Hopa-long saw Bob Ronson come
riding into the place with three hands beside him. The dark, lean-faced man with
the shrewd eyes would be Frenchy Ruyters; the narrow-hipped youngster could be nobody
but Tex Milligan, for his state was written all over him. Bob Ronson introduced them
by saying their names. The last was a big-bodied man with
,,a round, sullen face. His name was Dan Dusark.
"Startin' today," Ronson said abruptly, "Cassidy's segundo on this ranch. Take his
orders like you would my own. Cassidy, we'll talk inside." Swinging down, Ronson
led off at a rapid walk.
Inside, Bob Ronson stopped by his desk and shoved his hands down into his pockets.
His eyes twinkled and he grinned suddenly. "Hopalong," he said, "I've heard stories
about you for a long time. Gibson of the Three T L talks about you all the time.
Now you're here, and believe me, you're a godsend. Making you segundo of this spread
is throwing a load on your shoulders, but if what he says is true, you're just the
man for the job.
"You'll be stepping into trouble. We're the big outfit, we're short of cash, and
we're being robbed blind. The small ranches are range-hungry and over half of them
rustling.
"You're a fighter. I know men. I knew when I saw you out there after the holdup that
Gibson was right. You'll give the orders when it means fighting. To me as well as
the others. I can handle cattle, but I've no confidence in my ability to handle a
war. That's your job."
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Cassidy nodded. His admiration for this lean, sincere cattleman was growing.
"You expect trouble from the Gores too?"
"You heard of them? Yes, I do. And from other sources there will be trouble. We're
the melon they all want to cut in to."
"All right," Cassidy agreed, hitching his gun belts, "you've hired a hand. I'll run
it through without gun smoke if I can. And if I can't?"
"Use your own discretion," Ronson said simply. "They are asking for trouble. If they
want it, give it to them. Only"-his eyes hardened-"if they start it, we win it. Understand?"