Read the Rustlers Of West Fork (1951) for Free Online

few who might be valuable to Sparr, the bluffers and brawlers, and the third element, the officers of the law.
    But not even Mark Connor could make up his mind about Hopalong Cassidy. Tuck, as he called himself, might be the first or the last. He was not the quarrelsome type, although he carried with him an air of wary readiness for trouble that was in itself warning enough.
    On that sunny afternoon when first he walked into the Old Corral Saloon he wore a sun-faded red shirt, a battered hat, and worn jeans. His weather-beaten face revealed nothing; his blue eyes were opaque, hard, and casually aware.
    Mark waited, his own white, still face unrevealing. He waited, but the newcomer revealed nothing, offered no comment.
    "Stayin'?" Mark asked finally.
    "Mebbe. How's the grub?"
    "The best." Mark Connor liked good food and allowed himself a little enthusiasm. "We got a cook!"
    "Then mebbe I'll be around a while."
    "Huntin' a job?"
    "Mebbe. Not patic'lar." Hopalong's blue eyes strayed to meet Mark's black, cool glance. "You Mark?"
    "Yeah."
    "I'm Tuck. Hombre back at Clifton's mentioned you. Goff, his name was."
    Mark permitted himself a nod. If Goff vouched for this man he must be all right, for Goff was careful.
    He was usually careful. It paid to avoid mistakes when you worked for Avery Sparr. "Known him long?"
    "Don't know him at all. We talked a little."
    The door opened and a man walked in. The back-bar mirror revealed Johnny Rebb. The buck-toothed gunman sauntered to the bar.
    "Howdy." He nodded to Cassidy. "Rye," he said Cassidy glanced at Mark. "Grub?"
    The bartender pointed with the hand that held the bar towel. "Through there. It's beef an' beans, but best beans a man ever ate."
    "Creosote fire?"
    "Uh-huh." Mark's lips stirred in the shadow of a smile. This man knew good food. "You bet!
    He wouldn't bake "em any other way."
    Cassidy turned and walked through the wide door into what passed for a dining room. There were two potbellied stoves there, both glowing, for while evening was just drawing near, the alti- tude was a little more than seven thousand feet and the air quickly grew chill.
    A dozen tables were in the room, and only one of them was occupied. The man at the table was wearing a gray tweed suit with a heavy gold watch chain across the dove-gray vest, immaculate boots, and a black flat-crowned hat. He was clean-shaven except for a small beard on his chin and a thread of black mustache. His black eyes lifted and glanced at Cassidy, then returned to his dinner.
    After a few minutes a small, quick-moving girl came into the room. Hopalong gave her his order, then let his head turn as Johnny Rebb came in and sat down. If Rebb knew the man at the other table, he gave no sign of it. Cassidy glanced over at Rebb. "This much of a cattle country "*" Rebb shrugged. "The best, if you' can keep peace with the Apaches." "Any big outfits around?"
    "A few. Mostly small stuff."
    "What about this Circle J outfit?"
    Hopalong was aware that the man in the gray suit had looked up casually, indifferently, and was listening without appearing to. "Hear it's big. They run a lot of cows?" "Some." Rebb did not appear anxious to talk.
    "From what I hear," Cassidy continued, "this Dick Jordan is plumb salty. Don't expect the rustlers make much trouble for him. The room was still for several minutes and then Johnny Rebb said with emphasis: "Rustlers don't make any trouble for the Circle J!" There was more to that remark than appeared, and Hopalong turned it over in his mind. It could mean that Jordan was around and able to handle rustlers, as he had in the past, and it could also mean that the ranch was protected. The man in the tweed suit was interesting, and Hopalong wanted to know who he was.
    Meanwhile, as he ate he studied the situation.
    The Circle J lay well to the south, and the sooner he rode down there and got in touch with Pamela or her father, the better he would feel. Yet it did not pay to ride blind in a country like this, and