“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 22 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.”