"TXT - Louis L'Amour - Fallon" - читать интересную книгу автора (L'Amour Louis)

——Certain Maxims of Hafiz, by Rudyard Kipling.
Unfortunately, that drawing of fours was followed by the drawing of sixes, and
Coffins lost on that draw also. He started to take action, and Fallon, forced to
deal, placed two aces of lead, neatly spaced over the heart of Collins, where
they might have been covered by a blue chip.
The shooting was fair, and nobody had seen anything wrong with the play, but
Collins had been a popular man and nobody wanted to see all that money leave
Seven Pines.
A self-appointed committee convened and it was decided to hang Fallon, whereupon
the committee repaired to the bar to drink to their decision. Several drinks
later Macon Fallon was led to his horse and started along the road toward the
selected cottonwood.
Befuddled by too many toasts to the occasion, and exhilarated by the prospect of
excitement in town, they neglected to search Fallon's saddlebags or even to
remove the rifle from its scabbard. After all, his hands were bound behind him
and they had only half a mile to go.
It could not be said that Macon Fallon was a man who missed opportunities, or
was laggard in putting time to use. No sooner was he seated in the saddle than
he began straining his fingers to reach the knots that bound his wrists, a
proceeding considerably facilitated by the fact that he had taken the precaution
of tensing his muscles as they bound him, which permitted a little slack.
He had, on a couple of previous occasions, been witness to hangings, and the
proceedings had filled him with distaste. The prospect of being the central
figure in such a ceremony attracted him not at all
Yet dying of thirst was scarcely preferable, and that appeared to be the
alternative he had chosen. Walking and riding with these thoughts in his mind,
Fallon covered ten miles more.
He was now devoid of any illusions as to the outcome. He simply was not going to
make it, and neither was his horse. The blazing sun had taken its toll, as had
the stifling dust. He might have tried to seek out shade and wait for the cooler
hours, but the posse was somewhere behind him and they would not lack for water.
Fallon remounted, and the black horse started gamely on. They would be fortunate
to last another three miles.
At that moment he saw the wagons. They were no mirage.

Two covered wagons, two teams of six oxen each, two saddle horses, a milk cow,
and half a dozen people. One wagon was canted sharply over, a condition he
diagnosed as a broken wheel. Oxen and horses were gaunt, the people drawn and
tired.
Hastily, in the moment before they sighted him, Fallon beat the dust from his
clothing, straightened his tie, pulled his horse's head up, and straightened up
himself. He would approach them as a man of means, a man of spirit, a man who
could take command. Once people felt pity for a man, he would never be able to
have the upper hand. The thing to do was take command and keep them moving.
Macon Fallon was alive to opportunity, and opportunity was what he needed now.
Every bit of his cash except for a few dollars had been left behind in Seven
Pines. He needed not only a stake before going on, but a chance for his horse
and himself to recover strength.
And these were the people who would provide it. Did not the good Lord send the
lambs to be sheared? Macon Fallon was a cynic, but every cynic is a