Free the Man Called Noon (1970) by Louis L'amour Page B

gestured toward a room in the corner of the barn. "And no bugs."
    "How much?"
    The Mexican smiled. "Fifty cents."
    "All right."
    He turned to walk away and the man spoke again. "Be careful, senor."
    He stopped, his eyes searching the old man's face. "Why do you say that?"
    The man shrugged. "It is a wild town. The railroads have brought many strangers. There have been shootings."
    "Thanks," Noon said.
    The sun had slipped from sight, and with its passing a desert coolness came. He walked to the next street, and saw the sign of the Coliseum, a saloon and variety theater. He avoided it ... from somewhere he seemed to hare the impression that the Coliseum and Jack Doyle's were the most popular places in town.
    In a small restaurant further along the street he ordered frijoles, tortillas, and roast beef, and drank a glass of beer. Over his coffee he sat watching the lights come on. Men came and went as he waited there. Having eaten, he felt better, and the ache dulled, but he was strangely on edge, not at all as he wanted to feel.
    He got up to pay, and a small man eating at a table near him turned suddenly to look at him ... and stared.
    Ruble Noon paid his bill and went outside, but he felt uneasy. When he had walked a few yards he glanced back, and saw that the man was standing in the restaurant door, staring after him.
    He turned the corner, walked a block, and crossed the street. Glancing back he saw no one, but he felt worried. That man was interested in him, and recognized him perhaps. The sooner he did what he had come to do and left town, the better.
    He saw the Acme Saloon ahead of him ... and then he saw the sign of Dean Cullane's office. It was on the second floor, reached by an outside stairway. The windows were dark and the place was empty-looking.
    He paused and made a show of wiping his face while he glanced up and down the street No one was in sight, and he went up the steps swiftly. At the landing he knocked, and when there was no response he tried the door. It was locked.
    He looked down, but there was no one on the street He drew his knife, slipped the point into the lock, and worked the bolt back, then he pushed with his shoulder. The door was ill-fitting, and it opened easily. He stepped inside and pushed it to behind him. He stood still... listening.
    Outside there was only the distant tin-panny sound of a piano. He waited, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the dim light that came in through the windows.
    He saw that the room contained a rolltop desk, a swivel chair, another chair, and a leather settee. Under a shelf filled with books there was also a table covered with papers. A brass spittoon was on the floor.
    A door stood open just a crack, and in that crack he saw a gun muzzle. Even as he saw it, he realized that the something that had disturbed him since entering the room was the faint smell of perfume mingled with the smell of stale tobacco.
    "There's no use of your shooting me," he said. "There would be nothing gained. And besides" - he played a hunch - ''you'd have to explain what you were doing here."
    The door opened wider, and he could see a girl standing there, the gun still held level. "Who are you?" she asked.
    He smiled into the darkness, and some of the smile was in his tone when he said, "I didn't ask you that"
    "All right then-what do you want?"
    "To put some pieces together."
    "What was Dean Cullane to you?" she asked.
    "A name - no more than that. Only somebody shot at me, and a thing like that makes a man curious."
    "Dean Cullane would not shoot anyone - at least, I don't think he would."
    "We never know, do we? Sometimes the most unexpected people will shoot. You even have a gun yourself."
    "But I would shoot, mister. I have shot before this."
    "And killed?"
    "I didn't have time to look. Anyway, Dean Cullane did not shoot you, so who did? And why are you here?"
    "The man who shot at me was paid to do it. He is a man who does such things for money."
    "Ruble Noon!"she exclaimed.
    "Is