The Coyote Read online

  “Now, Frankie, we don’t care who the man is,” she reproved. “He was hungry and he’s welcome. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I guess you’d be surprised if you knew as much as I do,” the boy boasted. “I guess you’d be surprised all right. I do.”

  “I’ve been surprised more than once at things you knew,” the girl said with a laugh.

  “Yes, but I guess you’d be surprised all right if you knew who he is,” cried the boy, pointing at Rathburn.

  “Come, now, young fellow, don’t be getting all het up here,” said Rathburn slowly, drawing tobacco and papers from his shirt pocket. “What do you find to do with yourself around here?”

  But the youngster was not to be diverted from his topic. “I was lookin’ at your horse,” he said, his eyes shining. “That’s how I know for sure an’ certain who you are.”

  Rathburn gazed at the boy sternly as he touched a match to his brown-paper cigarette. “My horse is all right, ain’t he?”

  “Sure he is,” said the boy eagerly. “I bet he can go some, too. He’d have to go for you to have him, wouldn’t he? You’re The Coyote!”

  Rathburn continued to smile with an amused tolerance. But the girl gave a start; her hands flew to her breast, and she stared at the man with wide-open eyes.

  “Frankie! What are you saying?” she exclaimed.

  The boy triumphantly brought his hands from behind his back. He held out a poster.

  “His horse has got CC2 for a brand, just like it says in this bill Ed brought from town!” he cried. “He’s The Coyote, all right. But I won’t tell,” he added quickly, looking at Rathburn.

  The man avoided the girl’s eyes. The boy laid the poster on the table where she could read it again, word for word.

  “Tall––light in complexion––gray or blue eyes––good teeth––horse branded CC2––dangerous–––”

  And this man was tall and blond, with gray eyes. Five hundred dollars reward!

  “I won’t tell anybody you’ve been here,” the boy continued. “We won’t tell, will we, sis?” He looked at the girl imploringly.

  “My brother Ed says what you want you take,” said the boy, gazing at the man in admiration. “An’ he says you don’t rob anybody that can’t afford it! He says the banks are insured an’ you’ve been a friend to more’n one that’s just gettin’ a start in the cattle. I won’t tell anybody you’ve been here, an’ I won’t let sis tell anybody, either!”

  Rathburn was smiling wistfully. “Always tell the truth, sonny,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t forget that. I wouldn’t want you to lie for me. Any man that would want you to lie for him wouldn’t be a man a-tall, son. See?”

  “But old Brown, the judge, or the sheriff might come along an’ want to know if you’d been here!” said the boy in breathless excitement.

  “Then tell ’em the truth,” said Rathburn smilingly. “Tell ’em a man with a horse branded CC2 was here an’ kidded you about your freckles, had something to eat, an’ rode away. Don’t lie, sonny, no matter what happens.”

  The girl took a step toward the table. “You––are––The Coyote?” she asked in a whisper.

  “My name is Rathburn, miss,” he replied cheerfully. “In some ways I’m a lot like the man described in that reward notice. An’ I’m riding a dun-colored horse branded CC2. I don’t like that monicker, Coyote, or I might ’fess up to it.”

  “Then––if you’re him––you’re an outlaw!” she stammered.

  Rathburn’s dreamy look shifted to the boy who was staring at him.

  “You’ll grow up to be quite a man, son,” he said in a fatherly tone. “Those freckles mean a tough skin. A weak sort of skin tans quick an’ the toughest just sunburns. You’re halfway between. That’s all right for freckles; but it don’t go in life. It’s best to be on one side or the other, an’ the right side’s the best for most folks.”

  He rose and went for his hat. Then he extracted a roll of bills from a hip pocket and laid a five-dollar note on the table.

  “That meal was worth it,” he said to the girl with a smile.

  She shook her head. “I––I couldn’t take it,” she said.

  “That’s clean money, miss. I earned it circumventin’ three of the most ornery card sharps in Arizona.”

  She continued to shake her head. “You do not understand,” she murmured. “It––it wouldn’t make any difference. We couldn’t take money from a stranger who came to us––hungry. It wouldn’t make any difference who you were.”

  “Aw, we need it, sis!” blurted out the boy. “The Coyote’s all right. He wouldn’t lie to us.”

  Rathburn laughed and, stepping to the boy, ran his fingers in his hair. “I guess I’ve made a friend,” he said in a wistful voice. Then he picked up the bill on the table and stuffed it into the boy’s pocket. His eyes encountered the poster again and they clouded. He turned away from it.

  “Miss, you’ll let me thank you––sure.”

  She nodded, retreating a few paces.

  “Then I’ll be going,” he said, stepping to the door.

  “To––to Dry Lake?” she found the voice to ask.

  “Yes. To Dry Lake.”

  He left the house and in a few minutes reappeared from the direction of the barn, riding his dun-colored horse. He did not stop, but galloped down the valley, waving a hand in farewell which the boy answered.

  The day was nearly spent. The sun was low in the west, sliding down like a ball of gold toward the rim of the blue mountains. A stiff breeze had sprung up, driving the heat before it. At the lower end of the valley Rathburn found the trail he had left when he detoured to the ranch. He turned westward upon it, put spurs to his horse, and sped toward town.

  It was just as well that the girl could not see the look which came to his face as he rode into the sunset.

  * * *

  CHAPTER III

  THE LAW

  Night had descended when Rathburn came in sight of the little town on the edge of the foothills. He rode slowly toward it, staring moodily at the flickering lights between interlaced branches which waved and weaved in the wind blowing down from the mountains. In all the distance he had traveled from the lonely ranch where he had met the girl and the boy he had encountered no one. He surmised that the trail to the desert hills to eastward was not a popular one.

  As he neared the town he saw that it consisted of one main street with buildings clustered about it, and numerous shacks scattered in the lee of the hills. There were trees close to the eastern end of the street which he was approaching, and when he reached these trees he dismounted, led his horse into the shadows, and tied it.

  He walked down the main street, which was illuminated only by the stars and the yellow gleams of light from windows on either side.

  There were several resorts, and one in particular seemed the most popular. Rathburn glanced in through the door of this place as he passed and saw that it consisted of a bar and numerous tables, where games were in progress. He did not stop but continued on his way.

  Few people were on the street; none of them took any especial notice of him. Several doors below the largest resort which he had so casually investigated, he came to a small, one-story, white-painted building, which, save for the door and window in its front, looked like a huge box.

  Across the glass in the door was lettered in gold:

  JUDSON BROWN

  Justice of the Peace

  Notary Public

  A dim light shone within, and, peering through the window, Rathburn saw that this light came from a lamp in a second room behind the little front office.

  He looked up and down the street and saw but two pedestrians, both walking up the other side of the thoroughfare with their back to him. He tried the door stealthily, found it unlocked, and stepped quickly inside. Three strides took him to the door of the inside room.

  A man looked up from a small table where he was engaged in writing. He was a stout man, large of countena
nce, with small black eyes under bushy brows which were black, although his hair was gray. He scowled heavily at the intruder who failed to remove his hat, and who stood, with feet well apart, in the doorway, a whimsical smile playing on his lips.

  In a sweeping glance Rathburn saw that the room contained a bed, wardrobe closet, several chairs, and other articles of furniture and decoration of a bedroom and living room. His eyes flashed back to the burly man sitting at the table, pen poised, coolly surveying him with a frown.

  “Your name Jud Brown?” he asked, stepping inside the room and to the side of the door toward the table where he could not be seen from the street.

  “I’m Judge Brown,” replied the large man testily. “You should have knocked before you came in, but now you’re here, state your business as quickly as possible.”

  “That’s a businesslike tone that I admire to hear, Brown,” drawled Rathburn. “You’ll excuse my not callin’ you judge. I’m afraid when you find out who I am you’d think I was kiddin’ you!”

  He smiled amiably while the justice glared angrily.

  “You’re drunk!” flared Brown. “The best thing you can do is get out of here––quick.”

  Rathburn looked pained. “First you ask me to state my business an’ now you tell me to get out,” he complained. “You might as well know that I never touch likker,” he added convincingly.

  Brown was studying him intently with a puzzled look on his face. “Well,” he said finally, with a show of irritation, “what do you want?”

  “I want you to tell me the why an’ the wherefores of this document,” said Rathburn sternly as he drew a folded piece of paper from a pocket and spread it out on the table before the astonished gaze of the justice.

  “That’s one of a number I saw tacked on trees on the east trail out of here,” continued Rathburn, frowning. “What’s it all about, Brown?”

  The pen in the hand of the justice suddenly began to waver as the hand trembled. Then Brown dropped it, squared away his chair, and looked grimly at his nocturnal visitor. For some moments his gaze was concentrated on Rathburn’s face. Then he slowly read the poster offering a reward of five hundred dollars for The Coyote. He wet his lips with his tongue.

  “So I was right!” he exclaimed. “You were headed in this direction. I’m assuming that you’re The Coyote!”

  “And you’re assuming what’s the bare, untarnished truth,” said Rathburn. “I’m The Coyote you’ve offered five hundred for, an’ who’ll bring another five hundred in several counties in Arizona, not to mention five thousand that the State of Arizona has tossed into the pot. I suppose I’m worth at least ten thousand as I stand here.”

  “That would be cheap for a man of your reputation!” said the justice bravely. “We don’t want you across the line in California, Coyote. We won’t put up with your depredations, and if you murder one of our citizens you’ll hang!”

  Rathburn’s chilling laugh hung upon the justice’s words. “You’re side-stepping the point,” he said suddenly in crisp tones that were like the crack of a whiplash. “You’re anticipating events, Jud. That’s my complaint––that’s my business here with you.” He brought his right palm down upon the table smartly.

  “An’ now that I’m here, Jud, you’re sure goin’ to listen!”

  “Don’t threaten me!” cried the justice. “There are a hundred men within call and they’d make short work of you if they got their hands on you. Darn your ornery hide, I’m holding the winning cards in this game!” he concluded excitedly.

  Rathburn was smiling at him; and it was not his natural smile. It gave the justice pause as he looked up into those narrowed gray eyes, shot with a steel-blue light. Rathburn’s right hand and wrist moved with incredible swiftness, and Brown found himself staring into the black bore of a six-gun. Still he saw the eyes above the weapon. His face blanched.

  “There are six winning cards in my right hand,” Rathburn said slowly. “You can start shoutin’ for those hundred men you mentioned just as soon as you want. Brown, it’s you an’ your kind that’s made me desperate––dangerous, like you said in that printed notice. I won’t fool with you or any other man on earth!”

  “What––what did you come here for?” stammered the justice.

  “To get away from––from back there in that cactus-bordered country of black, lava hills where I was born an’ where I belong!” said Rathburn grimly, sliding into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Brown.

  “Listen to me! I was driven out. I’ve ridden for a week with the idea of gettin’ where I wasn’t known an’ where I could maybe get a fresh start, and here I find a reward notice staring me in the face from the top of the first hill I cross after leaving Arizona. I’ve never been here before; I’ve done nothing to molest you or your town; but you sic the pack on me first off an’ hand-running, without any reason, except that you’ve heard things about me, I reckon.”

  Brown nodded his head as Rathburn finished. A measure of composure returned to him. His eyes gleamed with cunning as he remembered that his front door was unlocked and some one might by chance come in. But he again felt troubled as he conjectured what might happen in such event.

  “You cannot blame me,” he said to Rathburn. “You’ve robbed, and you’re a killer–––”

  “That’s what you hear?” thundered Rathburn. “I admit several robberies––holdups of crooked, gambling joints like you’ve got in this town, an’ petty-larceny bankers who robbed poor stockmen with sanction of the law. I’ve killed one man who had it coming to him. But I’ve shouldered the blame for every killing an’ every robbery that’s been staged in the desert country for the last three years. ‘The Coyote did it,’ is what they say, an’ the crooks an’ gunmen that turned the deal go free. I’m talking to you, Brown, as man to man––a thing I’ve never done with any mouthpiece of the law before. I’m trying to show you how you an’ your kind can make a man an outlaw an’ keep him one till somebody shoots him down. I’m sore, Brown, because I know that one of these days I’m going to get it myself!”

  The justice saw that the man was in deadly earnest. He saw the hand resting on the table tighten its grip upon the gun.

  “I didn’t know all these things,” he said hastily. “I had to judge by what I heard––and read. Why didn’t you make all this known to the Arizona authorities?”

  Rathburn laughed harshly. “Because I’d be framed clear across the board,” he said jeeringly. “It’s the law! It’s as much of a crime to rob a thieving gambler or a snake of a whisky runner or peddler as it is to rob a home! I’ve had to rob to live! An’ all the while there’s been the makings of one of the hardest-lookin’ bad men that this Southwest country ever saw in me. And, now that I think of it, why the devil I’ve held off I don’t know!”

  Brown was moved by the sincerity of the man. He saw in Rathburn’s eyes that he was speaking the gospel truth. He saw something else in those eyes––the yearning of a homeless, friendless man, stamped with the stigma of outlawry, rebelling against the forces which were against him, relentlessly hunting him down.

  “You say you came here to start over?” he asked curiously. “How do I know you won’t walk right out of this office and turn a trick right here in this very town?”

  “You don’t know it, that’s the devil of it!” exclaimed Rathburn. “An’ there’s no use in my telling you I won’t, for you wouldn’t take my word for it. You’ve got me pegged for a gun-fightin’ bandit of first water an’ clear crystal, an’ I won’t try to wise you up because it wouldn’t do any good. Now that you know I’m in this country, you’ll blame the first wrong thing that happens on to me. I’ve got no business here talking to you. I’m wasting my breath. You’ll have to find out from somebody besides me that I was telling you the truth, an’ I reckon that coincidence ain’t in the pictures. Where’s your handcuffs?”

  The justice stared at him, startled.

  “Where’s your handcuffs?” insisted Rathburn angrily.
/>   “In the drawer of my desk out in front,” replied Brown.

  “Go an’ get ’em an’ bring ’em here,” Rathburn commanded. “I’ll keep my drop on you under cover.”

  Brown rose and went to his desk in the front room while Rathburn watched him in the doorway with his gun held under his coat.

  When the justice returned to the inside room Rathburn moved a chair close against one of the bedposts. He compelled Brown to sit in the chair, put his hands around between the supports in the back, and about the bedpost. He handcuffed him in that position.

  Drawing a bandanna handkerchief from a pocket he swiftly gagged the justice. Then he rummaged about the room until he found a piece of rope tied about a pack in the bottom of the wardrobe. With this he secured Brown’s ankles to the front legs of the chair.

  “There!” he said, standing back to view his handiwork. “You’re pretty well trussed up. I ain’t trusting you any more than you’d trust me, an’ I don’t figure on you raising any hue an’ cry before I can get along on my way.”

  The eyes of the justice were rolling as he struggled in vain to speak.

  “Never mind,” said Rathburn. “I reckon I know what you want to say. Under the circumstances, the same being so much on my side, you’d say you believed me an’ all that. But I took a chance in coming here to tell you what I did an’ I never aim to take more’n one chance in a day. So long.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER IV

  “I KNEW HE LIED!”

  Rathburn extinguished the light in the lamp, walked swiftly to the front door, and outside. Closing the door softly he turned back up the street. He sauntered along slowly, debating his next move. Evidently the town was the last for many miles in the mountainous country east and north. Westward he would come upon many towns as the country became more and more densely populated toward the coast. Northwestward he would be able to keep within the arm of the mountains and still be in touch with civilization. But he would have to make some changes in his attire and fix that brand on his horse.