A NEW COUNT
As Rathburn wended his way to an obscure restaurant on a side street of the little town which was the county seat of Mesquite County, his thoughts were busy with what he had learned from the sheriff. He knew the official had been right when he said that it would react in Rathburn’s favor if he gave himself up. Some of the counts on which he would be indicted undoubtedly would be quashed; others he might disprove. There was a chance that he might get off lightly; in any event he would have to spend a number of years in prison.
Rathburn looked up at the bright sky. At the end of the street he could see the desert, and far beyond, the blue outlines of the mountains. It seemed to him that the sunshine was brighter on this deadly morning when he struggled with troubled thoughts. Having always lived in the open, liberty meant everything to him.
But constantly his thoughts reverted to Laura Mallory. What did she expect of him? What would she think if he were to give himself up? Her talk of the compass––his conscience––bothered him. Why should she say such a thing if she didn’t feel more than a friendly interest in him? Did she care for him then?
Rathburn laughed mirthlessly, as he entered the eating house. There was no doubt of it––he was a fool. He continued to think, as he ate; by the time he had finished he found himself in a bad 216 mental state. He wiped some moisture from his forehead, as he left the restaurant. For a moment he felt panicky. He was wavering!
The tenor of his thoughts caused him to abandon his caution. He turned the corner by the State Bank of Hope and walked boldly down the street. Few pedestrians were about. None took any special notice of him, and none recognized him. He turned in at the resort he had visited when he first arrived that morning.
He started, as he entered the place. A deep frown gathered on his face. Gomez, Eagen’s Mexican henchman, was at the bar. At first Rathburn feigned ignorance of the Mexican’s presence; but Gomez smiled at him, his white teeth glistening against his swarthy skin.
Rathburn marveled at the audacity of the Mexican, who undoubtedly was one of those who had held up the stage the day before, in coming boldly into town. Then he recollected that the sheriff had mentioned he had an idea of who was responsible for that job, but had been unable to get a line on his man. Eagen and his gang were evidently well covered up. If such were the case, Eagen himself might be in town.
It was because he thought he might learn something from Gomez that he finally acknowledged the fellow’s greeting by a nod.
The Mexican left the bar and walked up to him.