the Trail to Seven Pines (1972) Read Online Free PDF Page A

said.
    "All right. Come out in the morning." He started to turn away and then hesitated.
    "By the way, what's your handle?"
    "Cassidy. My friends call me Hopalong."
    Harrington straightened up and stared. Ronson had stopped in mid-stride, and somebody, somewhere nearby, swore. Hopalong had not spoken loudly, yet there had been a sudden lull, and at least a dozen men had heard him. That the name meant nothing to some of them was obvious, but that it meant a great deal to Harrington, Ronson, and Dud Leeman was also obvious.
    "Hopalong Cassidy . . ." Ronson stared. "Man, I'll say you've got a job! Come out in the morning, by all means!"
    Dud Leeman had turned swiftly. He strode from the room. Hopalong glanced after him curiously. The dark-skinned gunman had seemed unusually upset. Harrington had noticed it, too, but said nothing. Pony Harper stood nearby, but his back was toward them, and whether he had heard, neither man knew.
    "In the morning then." Hopalong nodded to the men, then turned and moved through the crowd toward the door.
    The Rocking R lay in a notch of the Antelopes, a rambling, Spanish-style house sprawling comfortably among the cottonwoods with a huge old log barn, a series of pole corrals, and a bunkhouse that trailed a lazy thread of smoke toward the sky. A great tank, almost a half acre in extent, was placid with crystal-clear water. Green moss showed at the. edges, and a thin trickle dribbled into the tank from a pipe. After the trail Topper was ready for the water, and he sank his muzzle into it as Hopalong swung down. Sunlight reflected from the green leaves of the cottonwoods, and Hopalong heard a door slam from the house and looked across the saddle at the girl walking toward him.
    She walked as gracefully and easily as a fawn. Her hair was brown but red-tinged in the sunlight, and her face and throat were lightly, beautifully tanned. She was young, probably seventeen, but rounded and perfect. She was, as Katie Regan had said, beautiful.
    She smiled, her quick green eyes studying him. "Are you Cassidy? Bob said to tell you to locate a bunk, stow your gear, and then just look the place over. He's off across the range and won't be back until night. He said you'd want to get acquainted with the ranch."
    "Thanks." Hopalong smiled. "I reckon he's right, at that. A man always feels better around a place once he knows the lay of the land. You run many cows?"
    Her smile disappeared. "We did-and when it comes to that, we still do. I expect there's a good many thousand head on the place, but some of the boys around are a little on the rustle since Dad died."
    "So I hear. Don't the hands stop it?"
    "They tried, but the ones who tried didn't last long. They were killed mighty fast."
    She was bitter. "What this ranch needs is a fighting foreman! Somebody who would really run it!"
    "Well, maybe. And again maybe not. That sort of thing can lead to a lot of trouble unless your fightin' foreman has judgment too."
    "If Irene didn't side with Bob all the time, we'd have one!" The girl's eyes flashed.
    "I've tried to get Bob to hire Clarry Jacks! He'd be the man! They wouldn't run over us then!"
    "Jacks?" Hopalong was surprised. He looked the girl over more carefully. "Maybe he would be the man, but he doesn't size it up to me, ma'am. Of course I'm only a stranger here. What does this Jacks do?"
    "Do?" She looked at Hopalong, momentarily puzzled and, he thought, a little confused.
    "What do you mean?"
    "I mean what does he do for a livin'? Is he a puncher?"
    "Why, he has been. Right now he isn't doing anything."
    Hopalong nodded thoughtfully. "I see." He slid the saddle from Topper. "That's a right nice job, but it don't pay much. A man can only do it so long and then he's broke. Of course I expect Jacks doesn't need much money. If you have friends around, a man can live off them."
    Her eyes flashed. "Why! Why, that's not fair! How can you say a thing like that?"
    Hopalong looked innocent. He was momentarily sorry he had