"Louis L'amour - sackett06 - The Daybreakers" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

beans right now if they'd not been farmed by somebody."
"We've had our troubles with farmers, Mr. Sackett," Belden said, "there's been
shooting, the farmers killed a man for me."
"So," said a voice alongside, "so maybe we should kill a farmer."
He had an itch for trouble and his kind I'd met before. He was a medium-tall man
with a low hanging shoulder on his gun side. His black brows met over his nose
and his face was thin and narrow. If it was trouble he was hunting he was
following the right trail to get it.
"Mister," I told him, "any time you think you can kill this farmer, you just
have at it."
He looked across the fire at me, surprised I think, because he had expected
fear. My clothes showed I was from the hills, a patched, old homespun shirt,
jeans stuffed into clumsy boots. It was sure that I looked like nothing at all,
only if a man looked at the pistol I wore he could see there'd been a sight of
lead shot out of that barrel.
"That's enough, Carney!" Mr. Belden said sharply. "This man is a guest at our
fire!"
The cook brought me a plate of grub and it smelled so good I didn't even look up
until I'd emptied that plate and another, and swallowed three cups of hot black
coffee. Up in the hills we like our coffee strong but this here would make
bobwire grow on a man's chest in the place of hair.
The man with the golden beard watched me and he said to Mr. Belden, "Boss, you
better hire this man. If he can work like he can eat, you've got yourself a
hand."
"Question is," Carney broke in, "can he fight?"
It was mighty quiet around that fire when I put my plate aside and got up.
"Mister, I didn't kill you before because when I left home I promised Ma I'd go
careful with a gun, but you're a mighty tryin' man."
Carney had the itch, all right, and as he looked across the fire at me I knew
that sooner or later I was going to have to kill this man.
"You promised Ma, did you?" he scoffed. "We'll see about that!"
He brought his right foot forward about an inch and I durned near laughed at
him, but then from behind me came a warm, rich voice and it spoke clear and
plain. "Mister, you just back up an' set down. I ain't aimin' to let Tyrel hang
up your hide right now, so you just set down an' cool off."
It was Orrin, and knowing Orrin I knew his rifle covered Carney.
"Thanks, Orrin. Ma made me promise to go careful."
"She told me ... an' lucky for this gent." He stepped down from the saddle, a
fine, big, handsome man with shoulders wide enough for two strong men. He wore a
belt gun, too, and I knew he could use it.
"Are you two brothers?" Belden asked.
"Brothers from the hills," Orrin said, "bound west for the new lands."
"You're hired," Mr. Belden said, "I like men who work together."
So that was how it began, but more had begun that day than any of us could
guess, least of all the fine-looking man with the beard who was Tom Sunday, our
foreman on the drive. From the moment he had spoken up all our lives were
pointed down a trail together, but no man could read the sign.
From the first Orrin was a well-loved man. With that big, easy way of his, a
wide smile, as well as courage and humor enough for three men, he was a man to
ride the trail with. He did his share of the work and more, and at night around