The Coyote Part 42

The old man obediently slipped into the shadows behind the cabin.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

GUNS IN THE NIGHT

When Joe Price returned, leading Rathburn's horse which he had fed and watered, and turned over the reins, he spoke swiftly in a low voice:

"They'll be watchin' hard for you down the canon, boy. Bob Long's sure to mean business this 'ere time."

"Well, I know it," said Rathburn with a low, mirthless laugh. "I locked him in his own jail this mornin' to get a clean chance to decide to give myself up. Then, when the chance came--well, he surely thinks now that I put him away to cover my tracks. I expect the boys have got their shootin' orders."

"Listen!" whispered Price excitedly. "Wait till I get my own horse, an' I'll strike east across the hump. That'll start 'em after me maybe--sure it will, Rathburn! They'll think I'm you, see, an' light right out after me."

Rathburn laid one hand on the old man's shoulder and put the other over Joe's mouth.

"Joe, you're all excited--plumb unreasonable excited. You know I wouldn't let you do that. Now don't hand me more worries than I've got. Be good, Joe." He patted Price's shoulder, then swung into the saddle.

The old miner looked up at him, his face showing strangely white in the dim starlight, pierced by the fire on the peak.

"I didn't tell 'em you'd been here, Roger; don't forget that!"

"I knew that, Joe," Rathburn chuckled. "So long."

Swiftly he rode down the little meadow below the spring into the deep shadows of the canon which led down a steep trail to the desert.

Presently he checked his pace until he was walking the gallant dun. He wished to avoid as much noise as possible, and to save the horse for a final spurt down nine miles of desert to the Mallory ranch from the mouth of the canon--providing he got out.

For two reasons he had deliberately chosen this route: it was shortest, and it offered the best going. He must save the dun's strength. Rathburn knew the limits of his splendid mount; knew they had almost been reached; knew there was just enough left in the horse to make the ranch without killing him. The Coyote would surrender before he would kill his horse to effect his escape or gain an objective!

Thus they slipped down the narrow canon, with the desert stars gleaming white above the lava hills of Imagination Range, while the fire glowed on the peak above Joe Price's cabin. Rathburn's face was pale under his tan; his thoughts were in a turmoil, but his lips were pressed into a fine line that denoted an unwavering determination. Had Sheriff Bob Long seen his face at this time he might have glimpsed another angle of Rathburn's many-sided character--an angle which would have given him pause.

Rathburn looked behind, and his eyes narrowed. Two fires were burning on the peak.

Already the watchers were cognizant of his latest move and were signaling to those who might be below. He wondered vaguely why they had not surrounded Joe Price's cabin while he had been there. Then he realized he had been there hardly long enough for his pursuers to get there in any number. Suddenly his thoughts were broken into by a streak of red in the canon depths below him. He swerved close against the rock wall, drew his gun, and, speaking to the dun, drove in his spurs.

A short distance below he could see the faint glow of the starlight night and knew he was near the canon's mouth. There were more streaks of red, and bullets whistled past him. Then Rathburn raised his gun and sent half its deadly contents cras.h.i.+ng down into the trail ahead.

There followed a few moments of quiet, broken only by the harsh, ringing pound of his mount's hoofs. Rathburn could see open country just ahead. Then a flash of fire came from almost under him, and the big dun lunged into the air, half twisting, and came down upon some object under its hoofs. The dun bounded on in great leaps, literally flying through the air, as Rathburn thrilled with the knowledge that the horse had knocked down the man who had sought to kill him.

From above came sharp reports, and the blackness of the high canon walls was streaked with spurts of flame. Leaden death hurled itself into the rock trail behind him. Then he was out of the canon, riding like mad through the white desert night toward his goal--the Mallory ranch!

Laura Mallory stood on the porch of the little ranch house, staring out across the dimly lit s.p.a.ces of desert. A worried look appeared in her eyes. The front door was open, and in the small sitting room her father was reading under a shaded lamp at the table. At times the worried look in the girl's eyes would change to one of wistfulness, and twice the tears welled.

Presently she straightened and listened intently, looking into the south instead of northwest. Her ears, keen as are those of the desert born, had caught a sound--a succession of faint sounds--in the still night air. Gradually the sound became more and more distinct, and the worried expression of her face increased. She hurried into the sitting room.

"Father, Fred Doane is coming out from town," she said breathlessly.

"Do you suppose they've got him?"

"Maybe so, girlie," said the old man. "It was a bold business, an'

what could you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know. I can't seem to understand. All this trouble is coming so suddenly. Father, are you sure you heard Roger refuse to aid that man Eagen in some shady scheme last night?"

"Ab-so-lutely," declared Mallory. "I've been wondering, daughter, if he didn't turn Eagen down because he had this scheme of his own."

The purr of a motor came to them from outside, and Laura, hastily wiping her eyes with a small handkerchief, went slowly out.

"Laura!" cried Fred Doane, as he came up the steps, holding out his hands.

"What--what is it, Fred?" she faltered. "Have they caught----"

"Not yet," said Doane briskly, as Mallory appeared in the door. "An'

they probably won't get him. He's clever, that fellow."

The bank cas.h.i.+er indulged in a frown, but he was plainly nervous.

"Then what news do you bring here?" Mallory demanded. "Did you come to tell us he'd got away clean?"

"Why, not--not exactly," said Doane. "I meant to tell you that, of course, but I also want to have a little talk with Laura. Can I see you alone, Laura, for a few minutes?"

"Oh, _that's_ it," snorted Mallory, as he stamped back into the house.

"You have something to tell me you don't want father to hear?" asked the girl in a worried voice.

"Laura, there's something I must tell you right away," said Doane nervously, leading her to the shadow of the far end of the porch.

There he turned and faced her, taking her hands.

"Laura, you must have seen it for a long time. You could hardly help but see it. I love you, Laura--I love you with all my heart, and I want you to be my wife."

The girl drew back in astonishment.

"But why do you have to tell me this so suddenly?" she asked, her color coming and going.

"Because I want you to marry me, Laura, to-night!" he said.

Again he reached for her hands. "Please, Laura," he pleaded. "It means so much to me. Don't you care for me, sweetheart? I've been led to think you did, and I intended to tell you soon, but all this trouble--this terrible trouble to-day--has nearly driven me mad. I'm afraid I'll go mad, Laura, if I don't have something else to think about. Oh, Laura, marry me and help me out of this big trouble."

"Fred!" exclaimed the girl, startled by his pa.s.sion of pleading.

"Fred, I've never tried to make you think I cared for you. And now--well, I'd have to have a long time to think it over. How would it help you out of trouble, Fred? Tell me that."

"By helping me forget--by helping me forget that our bank is ruined!

By saving my mind! By keeping me from going mad! By----"