Violence of the Mountain Man. William W. Johnstone
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Название: Violence of the Mountain Man

Автор: William W. Johnstone

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Вестерны

Серия: Mountain Man

isbn: 9780786021192

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ of the American cowboys, Lucas Keno, was pretty good with a pistol, and in head-to-head shooting with the others, he had bested them all. Keno was a singularly unattractive man, with an oversized, hawklike nose, thin lips, bad teeth, and a weak chin.

      “Ha!” Keno said. “There ain’t a cowboy on this ranch can beat me,” he bragged. “Hell, there ain’t a cowboy in the whole county can beat me, and none in the state either, I’m bettin’.”

      Cal laughed. “Keno, you might want to think about that some. No matter how good you are, there’s always someone who is better.”

      “Yeah? Well, if there’s somebody better, I’d like to know who it could be,” Keno said. “I’ve done beat ever’body on Sugarloaf, and that’s a fact.”

      “You haven’t beat everybody,” Cal said. “I’ve seen you shoot, and I’ve seen Pearlie shoot. And I think Pearlie is better.”

      “Do you now?” Keno asked. He laughed. “Is that right, Pearlie? Are you better’n me?”

      “I don’t know,” Pearlie said.

      “Tell you what. I just got paid out my thirty dollars. Why don’t me and you bet that thirty dollars on which one of us is the best? I could use an extra thirty.”

      “I don’t want to bet you,” Pearlie said.

      “Ha! I reckon you don’t. What you mean is, you don’t want to lose the money.”

      “No, I don’t want to lose the money,” Pearlie said.

      “Don’t know why you’d be so worried about losin’ thirty dollars,” Keno said. “Hell, bein’ as you and Cal are Jensen’s pets, you don’t get fired like the rest of us. You’ll get yourself another thirty come next month.”

      “We ain’t bein’ fired, Keno,” one of the other cowboys said. “We know’d comin’ in that this was a temporary job. All roundups are temporary jobs. Hell, that’s what cowboyin’ is all about.”

      “Yeah, so you say. But from the way I’m lookin’ at it, it is the same as bein’ fired,” Keno said. Then, turning his attention back to Pearlie, he continued his pitch. “All right, you don’t want to bet. At least shoot against me so I can prove I’m better.”

      Aiming at one of the empty cans that had been set up for a target, Keno pulled the trigger. He hit the can, knocking it into the air. Then he shot again, hitting the can a second time and knocking it farther back.

      “Can you do that?” Keno asked Pearlie.

      “Probably not,” Pearlie answered.

      “Ha! Then admit it, I’m better than you.”

      “We aren’t going to find out,” Pearlie said.

      “Yeah, well, I don’t blame you none,” Keno said as he blew the smoke away from the barrel of his now empty pistol, then began punching the empty shell casings out to replace them with fresh cartridges. “I mean, let’s face it. As long as you don’t shoot against me, you’ll have your puppy, Cal, convinced that you can beat me.”

      “It’s not something we’ll ever want to find out,” Pearlie said.

      “Oh? And why not?”

      “Because if we do find out—one of us will be dead,” Pearlie said flatly.

      Before Keno could respond, the ringing of an iron triangle called everyone back up to the lawn of the big house. There, two long tables had been set up under the arching aspen trees and were now loaded with dishes, eating utensils, and several large bowls of such things as beans, rice, corn, steaming tortillas, and cornbread. Juan and Carlos stood proudly by the glazed beef, carving off generous portions to serve the men.

      Pearlie filled his plate with beef.

      “Tell you what, Pearlie, why don’t you pass your plate around for the rest of to divide up, and you just eat the rest of the cow your own self?” one of the cowboys shouted. “Hell, we’d wind up gettin’ more meat that way.”

      The rest of the cowboys laughed at the tease.

      “Folks say you show a cook how much you enjoy their cookin’ by how much of their food you eat. I just don’t want Juan or Carlos thinkin’ I don’t appreciate them,” Pearlie said, and again, there was more good-natured laughter from the men.

      “Hey, Slim, what say you’n me head for California?” one cowboy asked another.

      “What for do you want to go to California?” Slim replied.

      “There’s gold out there. I read about it in a book. You can just go out there and pick it up off the ground, gold nuggets as big as pecans.”

      “I never heard of such a thing,” Slim said.

      “Tell ’im, Miz Sally,” the gold hunter said. “Tell ’im there’s gold out there. I know about it ’cause I read about it in a book. It’s called forty-niner.”

      Sally chuckled. “You’re partially right, Mickey, “she said. “Gold was discovered there in 1849—that’s where the term ‘forty-niner’ comes from. And there may still be some gold out there, but I doubt it is lying around on the ground like pecans.”

      “Yeah, well, I want to go anyway,” Mickey said. “What about it, Slim? You want to go with me?”

      “Sure, why not?” Slim replied. “There’s an ocean out there, ain’t there? I ain’t never seen me no ocean. I think I’d like to see one. They say it’s so big you can’t see the other side.”

      “Really?” Mickey said. “Well, now, I think I’d like to see that my own self.”

      As all the cowboys and the permanent hands continued to enjoy their meal, Smoke stood up and tapped his spoon against the glass in an attempt to get everyone’s attention.

      When it appeared that he wasn’t succeeding, Cal put his fingers to his lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

      Around the tables, all conversation and laughter stopped as everyone looked toward Smoke.

      Smoke laughed. “Thank you, Cal, for that whistle.”

      The others laughed.

      “I want to thank all of you, cowboys and ranch hands, for helping to make Sugarloaf one of the most successful ranches in the entire state.”

      “State? In the entire West!” Cal shouted, and the others mouthed their own agreement with the statement.

      “Now that the seasonal employment is over, many of you will be going on to other things, and I wish you all the best and hope that you can all come back to ride for us again next spring. And now, I think Sally has something to say.”

      “I hope so,” one of the cowboys shouted good-naturedly. “She’s a lot easier on the eyes than you are.” Again, the others laughed.

      Sally stood up then, still smiling at the cowboy’s comment.

      “As СКАЧАТЬ