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

there. He's worked out a deal with a rancher up there by the name of Gibson."
"I know him," Hopalong said. "Drove over the trail the same time that he did. Knew
his son-in-law."
They rode in silence for a while, and then Hopalong asked suddenly, "Any loose riders
around that we could hire? Good hands who will fight?"
Tex Milligan shrugged. "Maybe a couple. Shorty Montana's around town. He's a fightin'
son of a gun when he gets unwound. Tough little squirt. He wouldn't work for Young
Bob, though. Turned him down twice. Had some sort of a run-in with the old man."
"Serious?"
"Naw, just a couple of fire-eaters. Shorty would walk into any kind of trouble with
guns a-smokin' if he figured he wanted to or if there was anybody in there he wanted.
Him and Jesse
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Lock were pretty thick, but Shorty hits the bottle hard when he's off the job."
"How about when he's workin?"
"Never touches it. Kind of quarrelsome ranny. He likes trouble and hunts it, so he
doesn't have so much as you'd figure. Never saw such an hombre for fightin'."
"Win?"
"Fifty-fifty. He don't seem to care much. He just likes it. One hombre licked him
three times over at Unionville. Every Saturday night Shorty would go back and tackle
him again. Hombre finally left the country to get away from him."
Gently, Hopalong chuckled. It might pay to ride in and have a talk with Shorty Montana.
"Where does he hang out?"
"Katie Regan's, mostly. The Nevada Saloon other times."
A thin trail of smoke invited their attention, and they drifted that way.
Kid Newton looked up from his fire. His rifle lay close by and he was wearing a gun.
He was a slim, awkward boy, but his grin was wide. "Howdy!" he said. "Light and sit!
Got coffee on, and grub comin' up." He glanced at Hopalong. "I saw what happened
down yonder. I was close by."
Cassidy looked him over with new attention. "Close by? Where were you?"
"Behind a rock about three hundred yards off. Had me a dead bead on Windy Gore."
Frenchy Ruyters indicated the boy with his head. "The kid's good with a rifle, Hoppy.
I've seen him drop an antelope at three hundred yards with the antelope runnin' full
tilt. Shoots 'em right in the head."
"Aw, that ain't anythin'!" Newton was embarrassed. "I've been shootin' all my life."
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Milligan poured coffee into a tin cup and handed it to Hopa-long. "Go easy on that,"
he said. "We panned some of it out once and found after the water was poured off
that she assayed forty percent coffee, forty percent alkali, ten percent assorted
minerals, and ten percent gold.
"Fellers," he said seriously, "always panned their coffee before they drunk it. Many
a cowhand in this here country's made him a stake thataway."
Frenchy snorted. "You pay too much attention to Tex," he said, "and his stories'll
make your head hurt."
Milligan snorted. "Me? Tell stories? Why, Hoppy," he exclaimed, "this hombre won't
even believe what I tell him about that hundred-mile bob-wire fence on the XIT. I