The Coyote Part 33

"Joe, there's two things I want--grub an' gaff. I know you've got grub, or you wouldn't be here; but I don't know if you're any good at the gaff any more."

The old man scrutinized him. "You look some older," he said finally.

"Not much of the wild, galootin' kid left in you, I 'spect. But don't go gettin' fresh with me, or I'll clout you one with my prospectin'

pick. Go 'long now; put up your horse an' hustle inside. If you want to wash up, I guess you can--bein' a visitor."

Rathburn chuckled, as he led his horse around behind the cabin, where two burros were, and unsaddled him. Before he entered the cabin he stood for a moment looking up the ridge down which he had come. The old man watched him, but made no comment. As Rathburn sat down to the table, however, he spoke.

"I kin hear anybody comin' down that trail over the ridge, while they're a mile away," he said simply without looking up.

Rathburn flashed a look of admiration at the old man.

The glow of the sunset lit the hills with crimson fire, and a light breeze stirred with the advent of the long, colorful desert twilight.

They ate in silence, was.h.i.+ng down the hardy food with long drafts of strong coffee. The old man asked no questions of his friend. He knew that in time Rathburn would talk. A man's business in that desolate land of dreadful distances was his own, save such of it as he wanted to tell. It was the desert code.

Supper over, they went out to a little bench in front of the cabin.

There Joe Price lit his pipe, and Rathburn rolled a cigarette.

For some time they smoked in silence. The purple twilight drifted over the hills, and the breeze freshened in welcome relief to the heat of the day.

"Joe, I just had to come back," said Rathburn softly. "Something's wrong with me. You wouldn't think I'd get homesick this way, after all the trouble I've had here, would you?"

The old man removed his pipe. "Anybody here in particular you want to see?" he asked slowly.

Rathburn shrugged. "You're always gettin' right down to cases first hand off an' running," he complained. "Of course there's folks I want to see. I want to see you, for instance."

"I don't reckon you'd be ridin' any terrible great distance an' takin'

chances by the handful just to see me, boy," said Price. "But I ain't tryin' to pry into your affairs. You don't have to answer any of the fool questions I ask you--you know that. I'm an old man an' gettin'

childish."

Rathburn laughed. "I can believe that when I find you still putterin'

around up here where there ain't even a sign of mineral," he chided.

"There's gold right under your feet," said the old man stoutly. "I'll have a payin' vein opened up here in less'n three months."

"I hope so, Joe. There's n.o.body I'd like more to see make a big strike than you. You were my dad's friend, an' you've been mine. I haven't got many friends, Joe."

"But them you've got is good ones," said Price quickly. "How long you been away?"

"About eight months," Rathburn replied with a frown.

"It's hard to get away from the desert," mused the old man. "It's in your blood. If you leave here for good you've just naturally got to take something along with you from here--something that's a part of the desert, you might say."

Rathburn looked keenly at the face of his friend. But the old man was regarding his pipe, as if he had never until that moment seen it.

"I ran into a posse chasin' a gang that robbed a stage on the way over here this noon," Rathburn said presently.

Price's interest quickened, but he made no sign. "They saw you?" he asked.

"Couldn't help it," Rathburn grumbled. "Took after me. I had to drop one of 'em with a bullet in the shoulder to slow 'em up in the long canon over on the other side."

"Know any of the gang?" Price asked.

"Met one. Threw down my gun on him. He told me Mike Eagen was runnin'

the works."

Price nodded. "I reckon Mike's been pullin' quite a few stunts while you been away."

"An' I've been gettin' the blame for 'em more'n likely," said Rathburn in indignation.

Price nodded again. "Might be so," he commented.

Rathburn looked up at him in understanding. "They'll have me mixed up with this stage holdup," he said earnestly. "From what I gathered they killed the driver, an' they'll say that was my part."

"That's the trouble, boy," said the old miner. "If a fellow's handy with his gun somebody's sure to get jealous of him an' make him draw.

If he gets his man because he has to, he's a killer. When he's known as a killer he ain't got a chance. You _had_ to drop the two men you dropped aroun' here, boy; but they ain't forgettin' it."

"Bob Long was headin' that posse," said Rathburn thoughtfully.

"An' Bob Long's a sticker when he hits out on a man's trail," said Price. "Still, I guess you'd be safe in here for a while. There ain't many knows this place."

"I don't figure on stayin' here long, Joe," said Rathburn.

"I didn't think you did," said Price.

"I'll have to get goin'--hit for new country an' never know when I may run up against the law in a quarter where I ain't expecting it; always sneaking along--like the coyote. It was Mike Eagen who gave me that name, Joe."

Rathburn's voice was low and vibrant, and the old man felt the menacing quality in it.

"What's more," Rathburn went on, "I'm always remembering that he's back here, getting away with his dirty tricks, shoving the blame off on me, some way or other, when the chase gets too hot."

For some time the old man was silent. When he spoke he put an arm about Rathburn's shoulder.

"Boy, before you get worse mixed up than you are, there's a place you ought to visit aroun' here," he said in a fatherly tone.

Rathburn shrugged and stared up at the night sky which was blossoming with stars.

"It would be a right smart risk," Price went on, "for they'd maybe think to drop aroun' that way on a lookout for you; but I reckon before you do much more, you better drop in at the Mallory place."

Rathburn rose abruptly. "I guess that's what I came up here to hear you say," he said irritably. "But I don't reckon it can be done, Joe.

I haven't any business there."

"How do you know, boy? Maybe you ain't bein' right fair."

"Seems to me it would look better for me to stay away."

"They don't _have_ to see you," urged the old man. "The Mallory place is a good fifteen miles from Hope, close up against the mountains.

Boy, don't you think you better make sure?"

The wistful, yearning look was back in Rathburn's eyes. His right hand rested upon the b.u.t.t of his gun. The other held his forgotten cigarette. He turned and looked into the old man's eyes.