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“What’s that? Roger, eh? You mean Rathburn is here?”
The old man peered at the visitor from the doorway, his lean face twitching. He stroked his gray beard in indecision. His blue eyes looked long at Rathburn, then at the girl, and lastly at the gun and belt on the table.
“Well, hello, Rathburn,” he said finally, advancing into the room. He held out a hand which Rathburn grasped.
“Did you eat yet?” asked Mallory.
“In the hills with Joe Price,” replied Rathburn. “But I’m just as much obliged.”
“Yes, of course,” Mallory muttered. “With Joe, eh? He ain’t been down in months. How is he?”
“Looks good as a gold mine an’ thinks he’s found one,” said Rathburn, looking at the girl’s father curiously.
“That’s what keeps him up,” Mallory asserted loudly. “He’ll never get old as long as he thinks he’s got a mine corralled. He ought to try stock raisin’ for a while. You look older, Rathburn––more filled out. Are you still cutting ’em high, wide, an’ handsome?”
Rathburn’s face clouded.
“Roger’s starting new, dad,” the girl interposed.
Mallory stared keenly at the younger man. He started to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of horses outside the house.
Rathburn whirled toward the door, took a step, and stopped in his tracks. The girl’s hands flew to the sides of her face, and her eyes widened with apprehension.
“I’ll go see who it is,” said Mallory with a quick look at Rathburn.
He hastened out into the kitchen, and a moment later they heard the kitchen door open. There was a200murmur of voices. The girl stared at Rathburn breathlessly, while he tapped with his slim fingers upon the top of the table.
Then Mallory came in. “Somebody to see you,” he said to Rathburn.
Rathburn looked once at the white-faced girl and followed her father out into the kitchen. She heard them speak in an undertone, and then Rathburn came back into the room.
“I ain’t much elated over my visitor,” he said slowly. “I wish you hadn’t asked me what you did until––well, until this caller had come an’ gone.”
She looked straight into his eyes in an agony of dread.
“Who is it, Roger?” she asked, wetting her lips.
“Mike Eagen is out there,” he answered calmly.
She drew a quick breath, while he waited. Then he turned on his heel and started for the kitchen door.
“Roger!” she called.
He swung about and eyed her questioningly. She pointed at the heavy belt and gun on the table.
“Take it,” she whispered.
He buckled on the belt and tied down the end of the holster so it could not slip if he should draw the weapon within it. Then he made his way into the kitchen and out of the rear door. Laura Mallory sank into a chair, sobbing.
201CHAPTER XXIXGUNMEN
For a moment Rathburn waited at the kitchen door. He heard Mallory going upstairs from the next room. All was still outside, save for the stamping of several horses. Then he suddenly opened the door and stepped out. There was no sound or movement, as he accustomed his eyes to the dim light without. He moved across the threshold and walked straight to a bulky figure standing beside a large horse.
“You want to see me, Eagen?” he asked coldly.
“Watch out there, Eagen!” came Mallory’s voice in a strident tone from a window above them. “I’ve got you covered with this Winchester!”
Both Rathburn and Eagen looked up and saw Mallory leaning out of a window over the kitchen, and the stock of a rifle was snug against his cheek and shoulder.
“Acts like he’s scared you can’t take care of yourself,” said Eagen with a sneer. “The way you ditched that posse to-day I didn’t think you needed a bodyguard.”
“I don’t,” Rathburn retorted. “The old man is acting on his own hook. You was watching the sport to-day?”
“Couldn’t help it,” said Eagen. “It was me an’ some of the boys they was after. You sort of helped us out by coming along an’ attracting their attention. I pegged you when I saw you ride for it, an’ I knew they wouldn’t get you.”
“You mean you hid an’ let me stand the gaff,”202said Rathburn scornfully. “That’s your style, Eagen. You’re plumb afraid to come out from under cover.”
He noted that there were three men with Eagen. They were quietly sitting their horses some little distance behind their leader.
Eagen muttered something, and Rathburn could see his face working with rage. Then Eagen’s coarse features underwent a change, and he grinned, his teeth flashing white under his small, black mustache.
“Look here, Rathburn, there’s no use in you an’ me being on the outs,” he said in an undertone. “We’ve got something in common.”
“You’ve made a mistake already,” Rathburn interrupted sharply. “We haven’t a thing in common I know of, Eagen, unless it’s a gun apiece.”
“Maybe you think that’s all we need,” said Eagen hoarsely; “an’ if that’s the way you feel you won’t find me backin’ down when you start something. Just now I ain’t forgetting that crazy fool with that rifle up there.”
“You didn’t come here for a gun play, Eagen,” said Rathburn. “You ain’t plumb locoeveryway. I take it you saw me makin’ for this place an’ followed me here. What do you want?”
“I want to talk business,” said Eagen with a hopeful note in his voice; “but you won’t let me get started.”
“An’ I won’t have dealings with you,” said Rathburn crisply.
“That’s what you think,” sneered Eagen. “But you’re in a tight corner, an’ we can help you out. Long said to-day, I heard just now, that he’d put every deputy he had an’ every man he could swear in as a special on your trail, and he’d get you.”
“The thing that I can’t see,” drawled Rathburn,203“is what that’s got to do with you. I suppose you’re here as a missionary to tip me off. Thanks.”
Eagen had calmed down. He stepped closer to Rathburn and spoke in a low tone.
“Here’s the lay: They’re after you, an’ they’re after us. I know you’re no stool pigeon, an’ I know I ain’t takin’ a chance when I tell you that we’ve got a big job comin’ up––one that’ll get us a pretty roll. It takes nerve to pull it off, even though certain things will make it easier. You might just as well be in on it. You can make it a last job an’ blow these parts for good. You don’t have to come in, of course; but it’ll be worth your while. You’ve got the name, an’ you might as well have what goes with it. I’ll let you head the outfit an’ shoot square all the way.”
Rathburn laughed scornfully. “When I heard you was out here, Eagen, I guessed it was something like this that brought you here. Maybe you’re statin’ facts as to this job which, you say, is coming up. But you lied when you said you’d shoot square, Eagen. I wouldn’t trust you as far as you could throw a bull by the tail, an’ there’s half a dozen other reasons why you an’ me couldn’t be pardners!”
Eagen stepped back with a snarl of rage. “I don’t reckon you’re entitled to what rep you’ve got!” he blurted hoarsely. “Right down under the skin, Rathburn, I believe you’re soft!”
“That’s puttin’ it up to me all fair an’ square,” Rathburn replied evenly. “I’ll give it right back to you, Eagen.”
“Get that gun out of the window.”
“Mallory.”
“Right here, Rathburn, an’ all set,” came Mallory’s voice.
“Get that gun out of the window.”
204
“What’s that? Don’t you see there’s three of ’em? You–––”
“Get that gun out of the window!” rang Rathburn’s voice.
“Let him play with it,” Eagen said harshly.
Mallory withdrew from the window, as Eagen reached for his left stirrup and swung into the saddle.
“I see you ain’t takin’ it,” Rathburn called to him with a jeering laugh.
“An’ I ain’t forgettin’ it?” Eagen shouted, as he drove in his spurs.
His three companions galloped after him, and Rathburn caught sight of a dark-skinned face, a pair of beady, black eyes, and the long, drooping mustaches of one of the men.
“Gomez!” he exclaimed to himself. “Eagen’s takin’ up with the Mexicans.”
Mallory appeared in the kitchen door, holding a lamp above his head. “What’d he want?” he demanded of Rathburn.
“More’n he got,” answered Rathburn shortly. Then he saw Laura Mallory standing behind her father.
“I mean to say he made a little proposition that I had to turn down,” he amended, with a direct glance at the girl. “An’ now I’ve got to do some more ridin’.”
“You leavin’ to-night?” asked Mallory in surprise. “We can put you up here, Rathburn, an’ I’ll keep an eye out for visitors.”
“And we’d have ’em afore mornin’,” said Rathburn grimly. “Eagen will see to it that Bob Long knows I was out here, right pronto. But I aim to stop any posses from botherin’ around your place. If there’s one thing I don’t want to do, Mallory, it’s make any trouble for you.”
205
The girl came walking toward him and touched his arm.
“What are you going to do, Roger?” she asked in an anxious voice.
“I’m goin’ straight into Hope,” Rathburn replied.
“But, Roger,” the girl faltered, “won’t that mean––mean–––”
“A show-down? Maybe so. I ain’t side-steppin’ it.”
A world of worry showed in the girl’s eyes. “Roger, why don’t you go away?” she asked hesitatingly. “Things could be worse, and maybe in time they would become better. Folks forget, Roger.”
For a moment Rathburn’s hand rested on hers, as he looked down at her.
“There’s two ways of forgettin’, girlie,” he said soberly. “An’ I don’t want ’em to forget me the wrong way.”
“But, Roger, promise me you won’t––won’t––turn your gun against a man, Roger. It would make things so much worse. It would leave––nothing now. Don’t you see? It takes courage to avoid what seems to be the inevitable. That terrible skill which is yours, the trick in this hand on mine, is your worst enemy. Oh, Roger, if you’d never learned to throw a gun!”
“It isn’t that,” he told her gently. “It isn’t what you think at all. I’d rather cut off that right hand than have it raised unfairly against a single living thing. They call me a gunman, girlie, an’ I reckon I am. But I’m not a killer. There’s a difference between the two, an’ sometimes I think it’s that difference that’s makin’ all the trouble. I’m still tryin’ to steer by that thing you call the compass, an’ that’s why I’ve got to go to town.”
He stepped away from her, waved a farewell to206Mallory, who was watching the scene with a puzzled expression, and ran for his horse. A minute later the ringing hoof beats of his mount were dying in the still night.
Laura Mallory swayed, and her father hurried to her with the lamp and put his arm about her.
“What’s it all about, sweetie?” he asked complainingly.
“Nothing, daddy, nothing––only I love him.”
A puff of wind blew out the light in the lamp, and father and daughter stood with arms about each other under the dancing stars.
207CHAPTER XXXTHE SHERIFF’S PLIGHT
Riding slowly Rathburn kept well in toward the range and proceeded cautiously. This wasn’t alone a safety measure, for he wished to favor his horse. The dun had been hard ridden in the spurt to gain the mountains ahead of the posse. He had been rested at Price’s cabin, to be sure, and also at the Mallory ranch; but now Rathburn had a ride of fifteen miles to the town of Hope, and he did not know how much riding he might have to do next day.
When a scant three miles from Hope, he halted, loosened the saddle cinch, and rested his horse, while he himself reclined on the ground and smoked innumerable cigarettes. He was in a thoughtful mood, serious and somewhat puzzled. The recollection of Eagen’s proposition caused him to frown frequently. Then a wistful light would glow in his eyes, and he thought of Laura Mallory. This would be succeeded by another frown, and then his eyes would narrow, and the smile that men had come to fear would tremble on his lips.
He was again in the saddle with the first faint glimmer of the approaching dawn. He covered the distance into Hope at a swinging lope and rode in behind a row of neat, yellow-brick buildings which formed the east side of one block on the short main street.
Securing his horse behind a building midway of the rear of the block, he entered one of the buildings through a back door. It proved to be a208combination pool room and soft-drink bar. No one was in the place except the porter who was cleaning up. Rathburn noted that the man showed no evidences of knowing him, although this was Rathburn’s home town.
“Kind of early, ain’t you, boss?” grinned the porter. “Maybe you’re lookin’ for something to start the day with.” He winked broadly.
Rathburn nodded and walked over to the bar.
“Just get in?” asked the porter, as he put out a bottle of white liquor and glanced at the dust on Rathburn’s clothes.
“Just in,” replied Rathburn, pouring and tossing off one drink. “Where’s everybody? Too early for ’em?”
“Well, it’s about an hour too early on the average, unless there’s been an all-night game,” replied the porter, putting the bottle away, as his customer declined a second drink. “But then there ain’t very many in town right now. Everybody’s out after the reward money.”
Rathburn lifted his brows.
“Say,” exclaimed the porter eagerly, “you didn’t see any men ridin’ looselike, when you was coming in, did you?”
Rathburn shook his head. “What’s all this you’re tryin’ to chirp into my ear?” he asked.
“Well, Bob Long, the sheriff, has got all his deputies out except just the jailer––there ain’t anybody much in jail now, anyway––an’ all the other men he could pin a star on, lookin’ for a gang that held up the stage from Sunshine yesterday mornin’, shot the stage driver dead, an’ made off with an express package full of money. There’s a big reward out for the man that’s leadin’ the gang. He’s called The Coyote. Used to live here. He’s a bad one.”
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“Sheriff out, too?” Rathburn asked, showing great interest.
“Sure. Come back in early last night an’ got more men. They’re tryin’ to surround Imagination Range, I guess. That’s where this Coyote an’ his gang are supposed to be hanging out. The sheriff don’t care so much for the fellers that’s with him, I guess, but he sure does want this Coyote person. He told everybody to let the gang go if they had to, but to get the leader.”
Rathburn looked through the front windows with a quizzical smile on his lips. The sun was shining in the deserted street.
“How many men has the sheriff got?” he inquired casually.
“Most two hundred, I guess. They’re scattered all over the range, an’ a lot of ’em has hit over on the other side. They think The Coyote crossed the range an’ is makin’ east.”
“Well, maybe he has, an’ maybe he hasn’t,” Rathburn observed. “The best place to hide from a posse is in the middle of it.”
The porter looked at him, then burst into a loud laugh. “I guess you said something that time, pardner. In the middle of it, eh?” He went about his work, chuckling, while Rathburn walked to a front window and stood looking out.
A few minutes later he stepped quickly back into a corner, as a small automobile raced up the street. He sauntered to the rear door, passed out with a pleasant word to the porter, and when he gained the open, hurried up behind the buildings the length of the block. There he turned to the left and walked rapidly to a large stone building. He went around on the east side and entered a door on the ground floor. He found himself in a hallway, and on his left was a door, on the glazed glass of the210upper half of which was the gold lettering: “Sheriff’s Office.”
After a moment’s hesitation he opened the door quickly and went in. A man standing before an open roll-top desk turned and regarded the early-morning visitor. He was a small man, but of wiry build. His eyes were gray, and he wore a small, brown mustache. He had a firm chin, and his face was well tanned. He was holding a paper in his hands, and the paper remained as steady as a rock in his grasp. His eyes bored straight and unflinchingly into Rathburn’s. He showed no surprise, no concern. He made no move toward the pair of guns in the holsters of the belt which reposed on top of his desk. He spoke first.
“Have you come to give yourself up, Rathburn?”
“Hardly that, sheriff,” replied Rathburn cheerfully. “I arrived in town this morning after most of the population had moved to the desert and the country aroun’ Imagination. I didn’t think I was goin’ to be lucky enough to catch you in till I saw you arrive in that flivver. Are you back for more recruits?”
The sheriff continued to hold the paper without moving.
“When you first started to talk, Rathburn, I thought maybe bravado had brought you here to make a grand-stand play,” he said coolly. “But I see you’re not as foolhardy as some might think. I always gave you credit for being clever.”
“Thanks, Sheriff Long,” said Rathburn dryly. “There’s a few preliminaries we’ve got to get over, so–––”
His gun leaped into his hand and instantly covered the official. He stepped to the end of the desk, reached over and appropriated the belt with211the two guns with his left hand. He tossed the belt and weapons to a vacant chair.
“Now, sheriff, I didn’t come lookin’ for a cell like you hinted; I drifted in for a bit of information.”
“This is headquarters for that article, especially if it’s about yourself,” said Long, dropping the paper on his desk and sitting down in the chair before it.
“What all have you got against me?” frowned Rathburn.
“Nothing much,” said the sheriff with biting sarcasm; “just a few killings, highway robbery, a bank stick-up, two or three gaming houses looted, and a stage holdup. Enough to keep you in the Big House for ninety-nine years and then hang you.”
Rathburn nodded. “You’re sure an ambitious man, sheriff. The killings now––there was White and Moran, that you know about, an’ a skunk over in California named Carlisle, that you don’t know about, I guess. I couldn’t get away from those shootings, sheriff.”
“How about Simpson and Manley?” countered the official scornfully.
“Not on my list,” said Rathburn quickly. “I heard I was given credit for those affairs, but I wasn’t a member of the party where they were snuffed out.”
“If you can make a jury believe that, you’re in the clear,” said Long. “But how about that stage driver yesterday morning?”
Rathburn’s face darkened. “I got in from the west just in time to stumble on that gang of rats,” he flared. “That’s how your men came to see me. The chase happened to come in my direction, that’s all.”
“If you can prove that, you’re all right again,”212the sheriff pointed out. “The law will go halfway with you, Rathburn.”
“An’ I probably wouldn’t be able to prove it,” said Rathburn bitterly. “Those other things––the bank job an’ the gamblin’ stick-ups––I was younger then, sheriff, an’ no one can say that that bank sharp didn’t do me dirt.”
“If you can show a good, reasonable doubt in those other cases, Rathburn, I know the court would show leniency if the jury found you guilty on the counts you just mentioned,” said the sheriff earnestly. “I’m minded to believe you, so far as yesterday’s work was concerned. I have an idea or two myself, but I haven’t been able to get a good line on my man. He’s too tricky. Of course I’m not going to urge you to do anything against your will. I appreciate your position. You’re a fugitive, but you have your liberty. Perhaps you can get away clean, though I doubt it. But there’s that chance, and you’ve naturally got to take it into consideration. And you’re notsureof anything if you go to trial on the charges there are against you. But it would count like sixty in your favor, Rathburn, if you’d give yourself up.”
Rathburn stared at the official speculatively. His thoughts flashed back along the years to the time when he and Laura Mallory had played together as children. He thought of what she had said the night before about the compass. He shifted uneasily on his feet.
“Funny thing, sheriff, but I had some such fool notion,” he confessed.
“It takes nerve, Rathburn, for a man who is wanted to walk in and give up his gun,” said the sheriff quietly.
“I was thinking of something else,” said Rathburn.213“An’ I’ve got to think some more about this that you’ve sort of put in my head.”
“How much time do you want, Rathburn?” asked Long.
Rathburn scowled. “Our positions haven’t changed,” he said curtly. “I’m still the man you’re lookin’ for. I’ll have to do my thinkin’ on my own hook, I reckon.”
“Just as you say,” Long said gravely. “Go over what I’ve told you carefully and don’t make any more false moves while you’re making up your mind. You wounded one of my men yesterday.”
“I shot high on purpose,” Rathburn pointed out. “I didn’t aim to be corralled just then.”
“I know you did,” was the sheriff’s rejoinder. “I know you could have killed him. I gave you credit for it.”
“You give me credit for quite a few things, sheriff,” said Rathburn whimsically. “An’ now you’ll have to give me credit for bein’ plumb cautious. It ain’t my intention to have my thinking spell disturbed.”
His gun flashed in his hand.
“I’ll have to ask you to go inside an’ occupy one of your own cells, sheriff, while I’m wanderin’ around an’ debatin’ the subject.”
“I know you too well, Rathburn,” said the sheriff with a grim smile. “I’m not armed, and I don’t intend to obey you. If you intend to shoot you might just as well start!”
Rathburn gazed at him coolly for a moment; then he shoved his gun in its holster and leaped.
Quick as he was, Long was quicker. The sheriff was out of his chair in a twinkling, and he made a flying tackle, grasping Rathburn about the legs. The two fell to the floor and rolled over and over in their struggles.
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Although Rathburn was the larger man, the sheriff seemed made of steel wire. He twisted out of Rathburn’s holds, one after another. In one great effort he freed himself and leaped to his feet. Rathburn was up instantly. Long drove a straight right that grazed Rathburn’s jaw and staggered him, but Rathburn blocked the next blow and succeeded in upper-cutting his left to the sheriff’s chin.
They went into another clinch, and the sheriff got the better of the close fighting. Rathburn’s face was bleeding, where it had been cut on a leg of the chair, when they were struggling on the floor. The feel of trickling crimson drove him mad. He threw Long off in an amazing burst of strength and then sent his right to the sheriff’s jaw with all the force he could put into it.
Long dropped to the floor, and Rathburn raised him and carried him to a door leading into the jail proper. As he drew open the door, he drew his gun and threw it down on the astonished jailer who was dozing in the little office outside the bars.
“Open up!” Rathburn commanded.
The jailer hastened to obey, as he saw the appearance of Rathburn’s face and the dangerous look in his eyes.
Rathburn compelled him at the point of his gun to lead the way to a cell in the rear, unlock it, and go inside. Rathburn pushed Long, who was regaining his senses, in after him and took the jailer’s keys.
“Tell Long I’m thinkin’ over what he told me,” he said to the jailer, as he locked them in.
Then he hurried back to the entrance, locked it, and tossed the keys in through the bars.
He wet his handkerchief with ice water from a tank in Long’s office, wiped his face clean, and left the building.
215CHAPTER XXXIA NEW COUNT
As Rathburn wended his way to an obscure restaurant on a side street of the little town which was the county seat of Mesquite County, his thoughts were busy with what he had learned from the sheriff. He knew the official had been right when he said that it would react in Rathburn’s favor if he gave himself up. Some of the counts on which he would be indicted undoubtedly would be quashed; others he might disprove. There was a chance that he might get off lightly; in any event he would have to spend a number of years in prison.
Rathburn looked up at the bright sky. At the end of the street he could see the desert, and far beyond, the blue outlines of the mountains. It seemed to him that the sunshine was brighter on this deadly morning when he struggled with troubled thoughts. Having always lived in the open, liberty meant everything to him.
But constantly his thoughts reverted to Laura Mallory. What did she expect of him? What would she think if he were to give himself up? Her talk of the compass––his conscience––bothered him. Why should she say such a thing if she didn’t feel more than a friendly interest in him? Did she care for him then?
Rathburn laughed mirthlessly, as he entered the eating house. There was no doubt of it––he was a fool. He continued to think, as he ate; by the time he had finished he found himself in a bad216mental state. He wiped some moisture from his forehead, as he left the restaurant. For a moment he felt panicky. He was wavering!
The tenor of his thoughts caused him to abandon his caution. He turned the corner by the State Bank of Hope and walked boldly down the street. Few pedestrians were about. None took any special notice of him, and none recognized him. He turned in at the resort he had visited when he first arrived that morning.
He started, as he entered the place. A deep frown gathered on his face. Gomez, Eagen’s Mexican henchman, was at the bar. At first Rathburn feigned ignorance of the Mexican’s presence; but Gomez smiled at him, his white teeth glistening against his swarthy skin.
Rathburn marveled at the audacity of the Mexican, who undoubtedly was one of those who had held up the stage the day before, in coming boldly into town. Then he recollected that the sheriff had mentioned he had an idea of who was responsible for that job, but had been unable to get a line on his man. Eagen and his gang were evidently well covered up. If such were the case, Eagen himself might be in town.
It was because he thought he might learn something from Gomez that he finally acknowledged the fellow’s greeting by a nod.
The Mexican left the bar and walked up to him.
“We are not afraid to come in town, Mr. Coyote,” he murmured.
“Drop that name,” said Rathburn sharply in an undertone. “Is Eagen here?”
“He is here,” replied Gomez with another display of his white teeth. “You want to see him? He is up talking with Mr. Doane.”
Doane! Rathburn remembered the name instantly217as being the same which had been spoken by Laura Mallory the night before. He remembered, too, the man who had been there and who had driven away to town in the little car. He surmised that this man had been Doane; and it had been he who had brought the information of Rathburn’s arrival and the posse’s pursuit to the girl.
“You want to see him?” asked Gomez craftily.
Rathburn had a consuming aversion for the wily Mexican. He hated the shifty look in his eyes and his oily tongue.
“Not yet,” he answered shortly.
“He will be here maybe,” said Gomez eagerly. “It is you change your mind?”
Rathburn scowled. The Mexican then knew all about the proposition Eagen had made to him the night before. Perhaps he could get more information from him than he had suspected.
“What job is it Eagen is planning?” he asked in a low voice.
There were several men at the bar now, and both Rathburn and the Mexican were keeping an eye upon them.
“Oh, that he will have to tell you himself when you are ready,” Gomez replied.
Rathburn snorted in keen disgust. But Gomez sidled up to him.
“You go to the Mallory rancho last night,” he whispered. “You are not the only one there last night.” His smile flashed again, as Rathburn looked at him quickly.
“There was another there before,” he continued; “Mr. Doane. He goes there, too. You have been away a long time, and Mr. Doane take the advantage.”
Rathburn’s eyes were narrowing, and the Mexican evidently took his face for an encouraging sign.
218
“Mr. Doane––he is not lucky at cards,” continued Gomez. “He like to play, and he play lots; but not too well. Maybe he have more luck in love––while you are away.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rathburn through his teeth.
“Oh, you do not know?” The Mexican raised his black brows. “While you are away, Mr. Doane make hay while the sun shine bright. He was there much. He was there last night before you. He tries hard to steal your señorita before you come, and he will try to keep her now.” He winked slyly.
Rathburn suddenly grasped him by the throat. “What are you tryin’ to say?” he asked sternly, shaking the Mexican like a rat.
Gomez broke away, his black eyes darting fire. “You are a fool!” he exclaimed. “You get nothing. Even your woman, she is stole right under your eyes. Doane, he goes there, and he gets her. She fall for him fast. Then she talks to you with sugar in her mouth, and you believe. Bah! You think the Señorita Mallory–––”
Rathburn’s open palm crashed against the Mexican’s mouth.
“Don’t speak her name, you greaser!”
Gomez staggered back under the force of the slap. His eyes were pin points of fire. He raised his right hand to his mouth and then to the brim of his sombrero. His breath came in hissing gasps, as the hatred blazed in his glittering eyes.
Rathburn’s face was white under its heavy coating of tan. He saw the few men at the bar turn and look in their direction, and he realized instinctively that these men were gamblers and shady characters who were probably friends of Eagen and his gang.
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“I give you my regards,” cried Gomez in a frenzy of rage. “You––gringo!”
His right hand tipped his sombrero in a lightning move, and there was a flash in the sunlight filtering through the back windows, as Rathburn’s gun barked at his hip.
Gomez crumpled backward to the floor, as the knife dropped from his grasp at the beginning of the throw.
Rathburn, still holding his smoking gun ready, walked rapidly past the men at the bar and gained the open through the door at the rear.
220CHAPTER XXXIITHE COMPASS FAILS
In the alley behind the buildings fronting on the main street, Rathburn paused in indecision, while he shoved his gun into the holster on his thigh. He had known by the look in Gomez’s eyes that he was going to throw a knife. Instinct had caused him to watch the Mexican’s right hand, and, in the instant when Gomez had secured the knife from his hat and snapped back his hand for the throw, Rathburn had drawn and fired. He knew well the dexterity of a man of Gomez’s stamp with a knife. The gun route was the only chance to protect his life. But Rathburn realized, too, that he had shot to kill!
He had been incensed by the Mexican’s subtle insinuations––maddened by the way he leered when he spoke Laura Mallory’s name. He had virtually been driven to it. Even now he could not see how he could have avoided it.
Securing his horse, Rathburn rode swiftly around a back street to a small barn on the edge of the desert. He ordered his mount watered and fed. He had known the man who owned this barn, but the individual who attended to his horse was a new employee. He sat in the little front office which also served as the quarters of the night man, while his horse was being looked after. He had not removed his saddle.
Rathburn’s thoughts dwelt on what Gomez had said. There was no question but that the Mexican had taken liberties in saying what he did, but there221was more than a glimmer of truth in his statements. Rathburn had seen the man leaving Laura Mallory on the porch of the Mallory ranch house. She had mentioned a man named Doane as having brought word that he, Rathburn, was back in the country and in more trouble. Now Gomez had identified this visitor as Doane, the man who had been calling on Laura Mallory regularly. Rathburn’s brows wrinkled at the thought. But why not? What hold had he upon her? It certainly wasn’t within his rights to resent the fact that another man had found the girl attractive. But, to his increasing torment, he found that hedidresent it; he couldn’t help it!
Suddenly he remembered that Gomez had said Eagen was paying a call on Doane. What could Eagen have to do with Doane which would warrant his visiting him early in the morning? Rathburn recalled that Gomez had intimated that Doane liked to play cards. Was the man then a professional gambler? But no, Gomez had said he did not play well.
Rathburn tried to recollect where he had seen this man Doane before. The blond face and mustache were vaguely familiar. Again he strove to place the man without result.
He shrugged his shoulders, drew out his gun, and replaced the empty shell with a fresh cartridge. He dropped the weapon back into his holster and went outside to see about his horse. The dun still was feeding. Rathburn contented himself with looking over his saddle and readjusting the small slicker pack on its rear. Then he paced the length of the barn, frowning in a thoughtful mood.
There was only one thing he was reasonably sure of; no one around the town knew that he was the outlaw known as The Coyote. He had not seen222anybody he knew except the sheriff, and that official was safely out of the way for the present. Gomez had mentioned his name when they had first met, but he had not been heard save by Rathburn. Therefore, if they were looking for the man who had shot down Gomez, they were merely looking for a man measuring up to his description; and Rathburn doubted if anything would be done until the authorities had been notified. Visitors to the sheriff’s office would find Long out and would assume that he had not returned from the chase in the hills. It might be another hour before the sheriff’s predicament was discovered. And in that hour–––
Rathburn caught himself up with another shrug. He was falling a prey to his former hopeless trend of thought. Resentment was swelling within him again, and he struggled to put it down. Perhaps it would be safer to yield to the inclination to take a chance on the courts.
It was after nine o’clock when he rode out of the barn. He proceeded straight toward the main street of the town. He was struggling with a half-formed resolve; summoning courage by shutting out all recollections save that of Laura Mallory’s apparently earnest remark about the compass.
Reaching the main street, he started to turn the corner at the bank building when he suddenly checked his horse and stared at two people walking up the opposite side of the street. Rathburn recognized the girl immediately. She was Laura Mallory. A moment later he caught a glimpse of the man’s face, as he half turned toward Rathburn, laughing. He had taken Laura’s arm. It was Doane!
The realization that Laura had come to town and was in the company of Doane stunned Rathburn. More than anything else it had the effect of convincing him that Gomez had been right when223he had hinted that Doane was successful in love. Hadn’t she told him to take his gun when Eagen had been waiting for him? Had she thought, perhaps, that there would be gun play, and that Eagen might emerge the victor, thus assuring her that he, Rathburn, would bother her no more?
Rathburn’s eyes narrowed, and his face froze, as he watched Laura and Doane out of sight up the street. He knew now why he had had to come back. There was nothing left––nothing but his dreams, his sinister reputation, and his gun!
He looked about in a different way from that in which he had first surveyed the street, now showing life. His gaze encountered the bank building. The door was open. The bank doubtless opened at nine o’clock. He remembered that this was so. A second of indecision, then he moved in front of the bank. He dismounted, flung the reins over the dun’s head, and entered briskly.
Two men were behind the screens of the two cages. Rathburn approached a window and nodded to the man behind it. Then his gun leaped into his hand, and he covered the pair.
“Reach high an’ hard!” he commanded. “An’ quick!”
The men in the cages hesitated; but the look in Rathburn’s eyes convinced them, and they raised their hands over their heads. Rathburn leaped to the ledge outside the window and climbed nimbly over the wire network of the cage. Then he dropped to the floor inside.
224CHAPTER XXXIIIFAST WORK
Quickly and methodically Rathburn went about his work. His face was drawn and pale, but his eyes glittered with a deadly earnestness which was not lost upon the two men who obeyed his orders without question. The very boldness of his intrepid undertaking must have convinced them that here was no common bandit. He herded them back toward the vault at the point of his gun. Then he ordered them into the vault.
“Now then,” he said crisply, “you know what I’m after. Trot it out!”
One of the men, evidently an assistant cashier or head teller, who was in charge, opened a compartment of the inner safe and pulled out a drawer. Rathburn could see the packages of bills. He looked quickly about and saw a pile of empty coin sacks on a shelf.
“Fill two of those large sacks,” he instructed the other man.
The clerk hastened to carry out his orders and jammed package after package of bills into one of the largest of the coin sacks. Both men were white-faced and frightened. They did not try to delay the proceedings. Rathburn looked dangerous; and what was more sinister, he went about his nefarious business in a cool, calm, confident manner. He did not look like the Rathburn who had visited Laura Mallory the night before, nor the Rathburn who had talked with the sheriff. In this critical moment he was in look, mood, and gesture The225Coyote at his worst––worthy of all the terrible things that had been whispered about him.
It may be that the bank employees suspected as much. It may be that they didn’t believe it would be possible for the outlaw to make his get-away in broad daylight, and it was certain that they stood in mighty fear of him. They cowered back, pale and shaking, as he calmly took the sack, heavy with its weight of bank notes of healthy denomination, and stepped to the entrance to the big vault.
“When they come an’ let you out,” said Rathburn, “you can tell them that the gent who helped himself to the berries in the cash box is just beginnin’ to cash in on the reputation that’s been wished on him!”
He smiled grimly, as he swung the light, inner door of the vault shut and clamped down the lever. He slid his gun into its holster and, carrying the sack of loot, walked out of the door of the second cage toward the main entrance of the bank. As he reached the door, a man came up the steps. Rathburn recognized Doane, and his lips curled in a snarl. It was the first time Doane had come face to face with him, but the man started back in surprise.
“Rathburn!” he exclaimed.
Rathburn hesitated. His first feeling of instinctive animosity fled. He scowled in a swift effort to place the man, and the thought that in an indirect way Doane was partly responsible for what had come to pass flashed through his tortured brain. This brought swift comprehension of his immediate danger. Now that he had taken the decisive step he would have to call upon all his resources of courage and cunning to protect his liberty. The die had been cast!
He hurried past Doane, swung into the saddle,226and rode at a swift pace around the corner, leaving Doane standing on the steps of the bank, staring after him with an expression of amazement on his face.
Rathburn knew it would be but a matter of a very few minutes before the knowledge that the State Bank of Hope had been held up and robbed––would be common property in the town. The very boldness of the robbery had insured its success, for none would dream that a lone bandit would have the nerve to come into town in broad daylight, hold up the bank, and attempt to run for it across the open, burning spaces of the desert. But he was not aware of the coincidence which would make the news of the robbery known sooner than he expected.
At the end of the side street he struck boldly across the desert, driving in his spurs and urging the gallant dun to its top speed. In a matter of minutes he was out of view of the town––a speck bobbing amid the clumps of mesquite, palo verde, and cactus. He raced for the mountains in the northwest.
There was another element of uncertainty which entered into the probability of quick pursuit, as he had shrewdly divined. It might be some time before the sheriff’s predicament was discovered. Meanwhile most of the male population was scouring the vicinity of Imagination Range looking for him, and there would be no one to lead a second posse until the sheriff was liberated. There was nothing in sight behind him toward town except the vista of dry desert vegetation swimming in the heat. Rathburn rode on with a feeling of security, so far as trouble from that quarter was concerned.
His thoughts were in a turmoil, and he passed a shaking hand over his damp brow. The resentment had given way to grim decision and determination.227Well, he had shown them what The Coyote could do. They would remember that job; they could lay that at his door. The proceeds would carry him a long way. They had given him his reputation, and he would make the game worth the candle!
The old fierce defiance of misguided youth was in his veins. He felt a wild exultation seize him. Doubt and all problems were set aside. His eyes glowed with a reckless light, as he raced on toward the blue hills.
Doane had known him––had called him by name. Therefore Doane knew he was The Coyote––the outlaw with a price on his head. So much the better. Hewantedthem to know!
The sun was at its zenith, as he passed above the Mallory place. He did not once turn his head and look down upon it. His jaw was squared, his lips pressed tight, as he guided his horse into the winding foothills of the range. In a narrow cañon he dismounted and undid his slicker pack. When he again tied it behind the saddle it contained the bag which held the bank notes he had taken that morning. He pushed on in the early afternoon.
He now rode with more caution. The fact that he had not seen any members of the posses which were scouring the hills, he accredited to ignorance on their part of the fact that he had been at the Mallory ranch the night before and had gone into town. These things they had hardly had time to learn. More than likely they had assumed that he had crossed the mountains, and it was possible that most of the men on the hunt were on the east side of the range. He became more and more convinced of this as the afternoon wore on, but he did not relax his vigilance. His face had clouded.