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

and he swung the white gelding to face them and walked him forward a full length
toward the oncoming riders.
"Howdy," he said quietly. "I take it you're Windy Gore?"
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The tallest of the men, a lean, sour-faced man with a lantern jaw stared at him.
"You take it right. And you're on 3 G range."
Hopalong smiled. "According to my information, this here's the Rocking R. All of
it, clear to the Blues. Seems to me this outfit was here a long time before the 3
G outfit. How do you explain that?"
"I don't!" Windy Gore laughed loudly. "Old Cattle Bob rode right over his neighbors
while he was alive, but he ain't alive anymore. Now get off and stay off!"
Hopalong sat his saddle. Coolly he let his gaze stray over the Gore riders, fixing
first one and then another with his cold blue eyes.
"Windy," he said quietly, "this is Rocking R range. It continues to be Rocking R
range. There's plenty of land east of the Blues if you want to run some stock. I'd
advise you to get hold of it before somebody else does. If you and your brothers
want to live peacefully, we can get along. If you want war, there's no need to wait;
you can start it right now."
"Huh?" Windy Gore was startled. Hopalong had spoken so quietly that it was a few
seconds before the import of his statement penetrated Windy's consciousness. When
it did, rage flooded him, and yet along with the rage was a cold thread of reason.
The odds were not good enough. Cassidy was supposed to be dangerous, and certainly
there was no weakness to be expected from Frenchy or Tex. They might not be gun-slick,
but they would stand hitched. Windy Gore was not so foolish as to buck a deck stacked
the way this one was. Especially as he knew that he himself would be the first target
of all three men. It was an uncomfortable thought.
"You heard me." Hopalong pushed his horse forward until
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it stood shoulder to shoulder with Gore's. "I said it could be peace or war, any
way you want it, and no need to wait. You boys have been makin' war talk. Now make
up your minds.
If you want it, you can have it."
Behind and to the left of Windy a sullen-faced man sat his horse. Partly bald, he
had a brutal jaw and small eyes above heavy cheekbones. "Let me have him, Windy,"
this man begged. "Just let me have-"
The sentence was never completed, for Hopalong swung a wicked backhand blow against
the man's chin that rocked him in the saddle. His right foot slipped from the stirrup,
and swooping, Hopalong grabbed it and jerked high. Caught unexpectedly by the sudden
action, the bald-headed man slipped from the saddle and hit the dust with a crash.
Instantly Hopalong was off his horse, and before the man could even gain his feet,
Hoppy grabbed his shirt front with his left hand and jerked him up into a wicked
right. Then he dropped the fellow and stepped back.
Stunned, the bald-headed man shook his head; then with awakening realization he came
off the ground with a grunt. He came up fast, and Hopalong swung a sweeping left
that split his cheek to the bone and then a right that thudded on his chin, and the
man went down on his face in the dust.