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

"Driftin' through. Heard some shootin' ahead of me, and when I came up I found a
dead man, and then you."
"Then I nailed one of 'em?"
"Doubt it. This hombre wore a frock coat and a gray hat. Hard-lookin', with a reddish
mustache."
"Oh. He was a passenger." The man was quiet for a minute and his breathing was heavy.
He was a clean-cut, rather handsome young man with cow country written all over him.
He wore two guns and looked like a man who could use them.
"What happened?" Hopalong asked.
"Stickup. I was ridin'-ridin' shotgun. They shot me first off but I stuck it out
and figured I nailed one of 'em. Then they got me again and I fell off the stage.
They were masked-like always."
"Always?"
"Fourth time in three months . . . This was my first trip. The other guards got it
too." A faint smile flickered across the wounded man's face. "Whoever pulls these
jobs doesn't like shotgun messengers."
11
THE TRAIL TO SEVEN PINES
Hopalong had put some broth, made from jerky and a handful of flour, on the fire.
It was hot now, and he fed a little to the wounded man. He took his time, letting
the man have plenty of time to breathe, hoping the broth would give him added strength.
He seemed to have lost a lot of blood.
"What's your name, amigo? I'd better know."
The young fellow stared at him. "That bad? Well, I'm Jesse Lock. Don't reckon anybody
will miss me much. You might hunt up my brother and let him know. He's got him a
place up in the Roberts Mountains. Name of Ben Lock."
The rain slowed until all that could be heard of it was a trickle of runoff and the
slow dripping of the trees. Thankfully, the wounded man settled into a fitful sleep,
but his ragged breathing had Hopalong worried. If the stage had made it to Seven
Pines there should be a party sent out to look for the men downed in the robbery.
But they might believe both men were dead, or that the trail was washed out. Hoppy
went back and cinched up the saddle on Topper. He was afraid he would have to leave
Jesse Lock and go for help, instead of waiting for it to come to them.
The sky was growing gray when Jesse Lock next opened his eyes, and the first thing
he noticed was the saddle on the white horse. His eyes flickered to Hopalong. "I'm
not makin' out so good," he whispered hoarsely. "Reckon I'm bad off."
"Yeah." Cassidy eased the wounded man into a more comfortable position. "How far
is it to Seven Pines? You need a doctor."
"Twelve miles. Find Doc Marsh-he's a good man."
Hopalong bathed the wounds once more, and they looked better than he would have expected.
He renewed the poultice of prickly pear, and Lock watched him curiously. "Heard of
that. Indian remedy, ain't it?"
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12
LOUIS L'AMOUR
"Yes. I'm goin' for the doc. You'll be all right?"
The wounded man's eyes were ironically amused. "Don't reckon I'll wander off and
get a leg broken. And I'm sure not goin' to get any better without a doctor." He
hesitated, looked at Hopalong almost wistfully, and said slowly, "Sure do hate to
see you go, amigo."