“So you want me to take you where you’ll be safe so you can rob me, maybe shoot me down, an’ then make your get-away,” the other accused.
Rathburn looked him straight in the eyes. “If you think I’m the kind of a man who’d shoot another down in cold blood when he was helpless you don’t know much about human beings,” he said slowly. “I have no intention of murdering you or harming you a-tall, if you’re halfway careful. If you feel that it’s against your principles to lead this expedition to temporary safety, we can turn back toward Dry Lake. We’re going to do one thing or the other within one minute!”
“Oh, come on,” muttered the captive. He led the way through the timber to its western edge, then turned north in the shelter of the trees traversing a long, high, rocky ridge.
“Our horses won’t leave any tracks here,” he called back. “Or maybe you don’t care whether we leave any tracks or not,” he added sarcastically.
Rathburn spurred his horse alongside of him. “It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me,” he said. “You’re the one that’s got to be scared of that posse, Percy, not me. If it wasn’t for one thing I’d take you right down there to meet ’em!”
The other looked at him both in anger and perplexity. “Suppose you’d object to tellin’ what that one thing is,” he said savagely.
“Well, it may be that I feel sorry for you,” said Rathburn as if to himself. “An’ it may be that I want credit for bringing you in without the help of any posse an’ without them knowing it!”
* * *
CHAPTER VI
THE REAL LOW-DOWN
They rode on in silence. When they reached the north end of the ridge the man in the lead turned west on a slope studded with large boulders and rock outcroppings. There was considerable shale here, too, and they had to proceed cautiously in spots, both for fear of sliding down the shale and to prevent making much noise.
“If they follow us up here, we can hear ’em before they get to us,” said the man who called himself Percy, with a shrug and a frowning look at his companion.
Rathburn did not reply.
They continued across the slope and descended into a large bowl or pocket, guarded by huge boulders and scattering trees on the slope above.
“Guess it’s safe to rest our horses here,” said Percy. “We can hear ’em coming either way; but I don’t think they’ll get up here.”
However, neither he nor Rathburn knew how many men Brown had at his command, nor did they know that the sheriff of the county, with two deputies, had raced to Dry Lake by automobile, procured horses, and hastened to join Brown on the east trail, which seemed the most likely route of escape for the outlaw.
There was a spring in the pocket surrounded by a small meadow of good grass. The pair watered their horses, loosened their saddle-cinches, and permitted the animals to graze with reins dangling.
Rathburn took his slicker pack from the rear of his saddle and spread it open on the ground.
“Reckon it’s safe to build a small fire here?” he asked cheerfully. “I’m powerful hungry, an’ I’ve got some emergency provisions––being trail-broke.”
Percy, too, was hungry, as his eager look toward the pack testified.
“I’ll climb up to the top on the lower side an’ keep an eye out while you fix some grub,” he volunteered. “You needn’t be scared of me jumping over the other side. There’s a drop of about five hundred feet over there.”
“Go ahead and jump if you want,” said Rathburn. “Me––I’d rather live. That’s why I want to eat.”
While the other climbed to his lookout position Rathburn made a fire. Then he took a small frying pan and coffeepot, minus its handle, from the pack, removed the packages stuffed in them, and soon was making coffee, frying bacon, and warming up beans. This, with some hard biscuits and some sirup out of a bottle, constituted their meal, which Rathburn soon had ready.
Again he looked closely at Percy’s face as the latter scrambled down from his perch to appease his hunger.
Suddenly he burst out laughing; but it was a belittling laugh, half sneering, which brought the blood to the face of the captive while Rathburn watched him closely.
“If I had to-day’s actions to do over again you mightn’t be so tickled,” said the man viciously.
“I’m laughing to think how lucky you are for a rank beginner an’ botcher!” said Rathburn as they began to eat. “You must have took a course in outlawing from some correspondence school,” he continued.
“Maybe you could have done better,” hinted the other.
“Quite likely I could,” admitted Rathburn. “In the first place I’d have shut that back door after I came in so nobody could pot shot me from behind. Yes, I reckon I’d have done that.”
Percy glared at him thoughtfully.
“Then I wouldn’t have let myself get in line with the front and side windows,” Rathburn taunted. “Lots of men are shot through windows. Ever hear of such a thing?”
His listener didn’t answer.
“An’ now that I think of it,” Rathburn droned on, “I’d have lined those men up against the wall with their faces turned away from me. That puts ’em at more of a disadvantage, an’ they can’t see what’s going on.”
Percy now was regarding him keenly.
“Let’s see,” said Rathburn, with tantalizing slowness. “Oh, yes, Percy. I wouldn’t have taken anything from the cash drawers but the bills. I don’t like to take the time to monkey around with a lot of silver; besides, it sort of weights one down.”
He paused long enough to let that sink in, then continued: “The thing I’d have paid most of my attention to––excepting for keeping a watchful eye on the men against the wall an’ the windows an’ doors––would have been the safe. The big money’s usually in the safe, an’ the bartender can be induced to open the safe just as easy as he can be persuaded into opening the cash drawers. An’ say, Percy, I’d never let a bartender get as close to me as you let that fellow get to you. He might start something, then you’d have to begin shootin’ an’ that would alarm the town an’ ball up the program.”
“You talk like you’d had considerable experience,” observed Percy warily.
“Maybe so. Maybe I have. But if I have, I can say I’ve never pulled anything quite so raw as the way you pulled that stunt last night down in Dry Lake, Percy. That is the real low-down on that. You just naturally laid yourself open to attack from all quarters.”
His captive looked at him both respectfully and sheepishly.
“An’ there’s only one reason why you got away with it,” said Rathburn, his eyes narrowing.
“Because I was lucky like you say, I suppose,” sneeringly answered Percy.
“No!” thundered Rathburn. “You got away with it because they thought you were The Coyote!”
The captive started; stared at Rathburn with widened eyes.
“That’s why you got away with it,” continued Rathburn in a hard voice. “An’ you thought you’d cinch it when you told ’em before you went out that they could tell their funny judge you called!”
Rathburn’s eyes blazed with angry contempt. “Trading on somebody else’s name,” he mocked. “Trying to make out you was the goods, an’ I believe they thought you was The Coyote, at that. Man, I saw the whole dirty business.”
Percy’s face went white. However, his emotion was more anger than fear, and he was prey to an overpowering curiosity.
“How do you know I ain’t The Coyote?” he asked shrewdly.
Rathburn stared at him––stunned. Then he leaped to his feet and his gun flashed into his hand in a movement too swift for the eye to follow.
“Go over there and look at the brand on my horse,” he commanded. “Remember how that printed bill read that put it in your fool head to try an’ masquerade as The Coyote, an’ then read the brand on that horse!”
The captive rose and without a look back walked to where Rathburn’s horse was cropping the grass. The left side
of the animal was toward him and for a few moments he stood looking with bulging eyes at the CC2 on the shoulder. Then he turned slowly.
Rathburn’s gaze burned into his, but a cool, deliberate light had come into his eyes.
“So you’re The Coyote!” Percy said quietly. “I should have recognized you.”
“Yes, I’m called The Coyote,” said Rathburn, walking slowly toward him. “I’m the man they think robbed that joint down in Dry Lake last night. I’m the man they’re looking for. I’m the man they want to make pay for your bungling work. That’s the way it’s gone for three years, Percy. I’ve been blamed for job after job that I didn’t even know was pulled off till I heard they were looking for me on account of it. But this is one job they’ll not be able to lay at my door; for I’ve got the man who’s responsible an’ I’ve got him red-handed!”
“What’re you going to do about it?” asked the other coolly.
Again Rathburn’s eyes blazed with rage. “Do? Why, I’m just naturally going to take you in all by my lonesome an’ turn you over to the sheriff with my compliments.”
Rathburn cooled down as he said this, drew tobacco and papers from his shirt pocket, and proceeded to build a cigarette. He looked at his man queerly.
“Now I reckon you know why I ain’t got any idea of taking that money off you,” he said.
“They might not believe you,” returned the other.
“I know what you mean. You mean they might think I was putting up a job on ’em an’ trying to shift the blame on somebody else. It can’t be done, Percy. Listen to this: I was looking through the front window of that place last night when you held it up. Two men that work in the hotel down there came along an’ looked in alongside of me after I warned ’em not to go in. I showed ’em this scar on my arm.” He rolled back his left sleeve disclosing a scar on the forearm about three inches below the elbow.
“I told ’em that scar was made by a bullet from The Coyote’s gun,” Rathburn went on, pulling down his sleeve and drawing his right hand back to the gun he had replaced in its holster. “That scar was made by The Coyote’s gun. I shot myself in the arm by accident some few years ago. Now, here’s the point: Those men will remember me an’ remember that scar. The descriptions the sheriff of that county must have in his office will tell all about that scar. It won’t be hard to identify me by it an’ by the two men that stood out there by the window with me. So they’ll know I didn’t pull the robbery!”
The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.
“An’ that ain’t all, Percy,” Rathburn continued. “Somebody saw me running up the street afterward because they took a couple of shots at me for luck. That’ll dovetail with my story. I’ve never been known to use two guns. An’ if they want any more proof all they’ll have to do will be to stand you up in front of the men you had in line, dressed as you are with that black handkerchief over your face. That’ll settle it. I reckon the sheriff will believe me an’ give me a chance when he hears the facts, or I may not wait for a talk with him.”
“I take it you’ve got me right,” said the captive, compressing his lips. “But if you’re really The Coyote I’ve heard so much about, you’ll give me my gun an’ give me a chance to run for it!”
Rathburn’s laugh jarred on his ears. “Give you a chance an’ take a chance myself on going to the gallows?”
“The gallows!” exclaimed the other. “Oh––I see. But didn’t you say you thought the sheriff would give you a chance if he met you an’ heard your story? At that you don’t have to stay around an’ get taken back to Arizona now.”
“They hang men in this State,” Rathburn interrupted.
“But––there wasn’t–––” The other man faltered, staring.
“One of those shots you fired at the lamp went wild, or glanced off something, an’–––” Rathburn lifted his brows significantly.
“Killed somebody!” cried the other.
He staggered back just as a rattle of falling stones signified that horsemen were in the shale on the slope to eastward.
* * *
CHAPTER VII
WHERE TO HIDE
For the space of several seconds Rathburn and his captive looked into each other’s eyes. Rathburn’s gaze was keen, alert, fired by the quick thinking he was doing. Stark terror showed in the other’s look which gradually changed to one of haunting fear and indecision. Then his eyes became clear and he returned Rathburn’s glance, cool and questioning.
“Get your horse,” ordered Rathburn, running to his own mount.
In a twinkling he had tightened his cinch, caught up the reins, and vaulted into the saddle. His captive was at his side shortly afterward.
“You’re still in the lead,” Rathburn snapped out; “unless you want to wait for ’em.”
The other whirled his horse, sent him flying for the western end of the pocket, with Rathburn close behind. They went up a steep, rocky trail, screened by boulders. When they reached the top of the west rim they looked back and saw four horsemen on the shale slope leading to the pocket. Brown evidently had split up his posse and was literally combing the hills for his quarry.
“They’ll know they’re on the right trail when they see the remains of our dinner an’ my pack down there,” remarked Rathburn dryly.
“But they haven’t seen us yet,” said Percy breathlessly. “If we can make Sunrise Cañon Trail we can lose ’em in the mountains––that is if you want to lose ’em.”
“Where’s the trail?” asked Rathburn.
“’Bout five miles west. It’s the only trail goin’ up into the big mountains between here an’ the other side of the Dry Lake range, an’ it’s a tough one.”
Rathburn quickly sized up the country ahead. He saw low and high ridges with towering mountains to the right, or north, of them. There were scattering pines on the slopes and patches of timber in the wide ravines, many of which were veritable valleys.
“We’ll run for it while they’re getting in an’ out of that hole,” he suddenly decided with a click of his teeth. “Their horses are in no better shape than ours. Slope along.”
The other had dug in his spurs even before he got the order. They rode swiftly down the steep trail from the rim of the pocket and fled across an open space and up the slope of the first ridge.
Rathburn looked back as they crossed it, but could see no sign of their pursuers. His face still was troubled; his gaze kept boring into the back of the man on the horse ahead of him. At times he muttered to himself.
They galloped up the hard bed of a dry arroyo and swung westward across another rock-bound ridge, picking their way carefully among the boulders. Rathburn’s face became more and more strained as he noted that the leader evidently knew the country they were in like a book. Rathburn, with the experience born of years spent in the open places, was able to keep his bearings.
They had followed a course for some miles north of the main trail leading east, the trail by which he had first come into the locality. Then they had doubled back westward, some miles above that trail, of course, and now were heading almost due north again, in the direction of the mountains which did not appear to be far away. He surmised that they were nearly directly north of the ranch where he had had the meal with the girl and boy.
At the top of the next ridge his guide pointed above them.
“See that crack in the mountain?” he said.
Rathburn nodded as he made out what appeared to be a gash in the steep side of a mountain north of them.
“That’s Sunrise Cañon,” said the other quietly. “There’s a trail up that cañon into the heart of the mountains where they couldn’t catch us––or you, if you want to go alone––in a hundred years!”
He stared steadily at Rathburn.
“Mosey along, then,” said Rathburn. “Let’s get somewheres before our horses drop.”
They kept along the ridge until it was cut by a cañon. Here they descended and entered another long, narrow ravine which they neg
otiated at a gallop. At its upper end they again climbed a steep slope. Their horses were showing the strain of the hours of hard riding. Rathburn realized that they could go but a limited distance. But the members of the posse most assuredly must be in the same fix so far as their mounts were concerned.
He decided that if they could get into the cañon unseen they would be able to rest their horses and remain secure for the night. Next morning they could continue on up into the hills, or slip back by a roundabout way to Dry Lake.
His lips froze into a thin white line. He did not look at the man with him as they paused for a few moments under the trees which covered the top of the ridge and gazed at a long, gently sloping stretch of nearly open country. It was covered with clumps of trees at intervals, that reached to the dark, narrow opening in the mountains, marking the entrance to Sunrise Cañon and the trail to the fastnesses of the higher hills.
“You can swing off here to the left an’ down a wide valley to where there’s a cut-off into Dry Lake,” he heard his captive suggesting. “I don’t see any sense in all this hard ridin’ an’ hidin’ if you’re goin’ to turn me in.”
“We’ll go on,” growlingly replied Rathburn.
They descended the ridge and entered the long, sloping valley, so wide that it virtually was a plain. They made good headway, although they favored their horses. They took advantage of the shelter provided by the occasional clumps of pines. The afternoon was drawing to a close with the sun dipping sharply toward the western hills when they came in sight of the entrance to the cañon. But with the first glimpse they checked their horses and turned into the shelter of some trees near by.
“Beat us to it!” exclaimed Percy.
“Four of ’em,” said Rathburn, frowning. “Brown ain’t taking any chances. He’s a better man than I figured him out. An’ there’s more of ’em!”
He pointed westward where two riders were barely discernible on the crest of a ridge. They disappeared almost immediately in the timber below.
The Coyote Page 4
