GUNMEN
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," said 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 loco _every_ way. 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, "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."
"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."
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 to Mallory, 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.