"monument rock" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

into high relief and left his eyes hollows of darkness. The night clerk saw only
a big man, in dusty range clothes, who signed his name in the slow, cramped manner
of a man unaccustomed to the pen. Hibbs handed him his key and the man turned and
started up the steps.
As he climbed, the light traveled down over his lean hips and picked out the dull
luster of walnut-stocked guns, then slid down to worn boots and California-style
spurs. When the heels vanished, Hibbs waited no longer but turned the register and
peered at the name. Without another instant of delay he came from behind the counter,
cast one quick glance up the stairs, and bustled out the door.
The quick, upward glance did not penetrate the darkness. Had it done so, he would
have seen the stranger standing in the shadows at the head of the steps, watching
him. When Hibbs hurried across the dark street, the rider
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2 / LOUIS L'AMOUR
was at his window, looking down. The clerk disappeared into an alley.
It was a small thing, but the rider knew the wheels had begun to turn. Already they
knew of his presence, and already he had gathered his first fragment of a fact. Somebody
was almighty interested in his arrival, and that somebody had a working deal with
the hotel clerk. Not much to know, but a beginning.
The clerk had hurried on for several hundred feet then turned and stopped by a window
with three inches of opening. He tapped lightly with a coin, and at a cautious response,
he whispered, "Hibbs, here. Gent just registered as Utah Elaine, El Paso."
"All right."
Disappointed at the lack of reaction, Hibbs waited for something else to be said;
then, when it did not come, he added, "He looks salty."
"All right."
Hibbs walked slowly back to the hotel. His round, rather querulous face sagged with
vague disappointment.
The man behind the darkened window rolled on his side and picked up a carefully prepared
cigarette that lay on the table by the bed. When it was lit he lay back, his head
on the bunched-up pillow. Against the vague light of the window, the cigarette glowed
and he stared up into darkness.
How much longer dared he continue? The pickings were rich, but he was feeling the
uneasiness that preceded danger. He had a bag full, no doubt about that. Maybe it
was time to pull his stakes.
He knew nothing of Elaine, yet that the man had been
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A man named utah / 3
asked here was evidence that someone believed he was the man for the job.
Jack Storey had been tough and fast ... a drunken miner named Peterson had been egged
into shooting him in the back. Three other marshals had preceded him and they were
buried in a neat row on the hill. The man on the bed inhaled deeply and knew he had
managed well up to now, but his luck was sure to run out.
He had the gold taken from miners, gamblers, and ca1
sual travelers and only Hibbs knew who he was, only he knew the murders and robberies
had been engineered by one man. And the clerk could be removed.