west of the Mississippi.
That did not imply that this stranger had been a newspaperman, but he had seen a good many of them drifting along the trails - more since the railroad had come in a few months back. Mallory himself was a tramp printer who had worked on more than a dozen newspapers, and not so much as a year on any of them after his first, when he was fourteen. He had worked in big towns and small ones, but he preferred the little towns, and the western ones.
He had been in Mesilla for only three months now, but he was about ready to drift. He was going to try Santa Fe next, or perhaps go to Arizona. He lighted his pipe and tipped back his chair. This stranger, now ... what he had said was true: the best way to make a quick judgment of a town was through its newspaper, to read the advertisements, the news items on local issues ... but Mallory did not for a minute believe this man was interested in settling in Mesilla.
The fact was that Las Cruces was the coming town. Since the railroad had come to Las Cruces the population here had fallen off a little, and the center of activity seemed to be shifting. For himself, he liked Mesilla.
He stoked his pipe again, and glanced around, hitching his chair a little to watch the stranger, who had finished one sheaf of papers and gone on to another. He was scanning the paper with a rapidity that Mallory envied. He was obviously looking for something particular, and he seemed to be checking most of the items.
The difficulty was that Ruble Noon did not himself know what he was looking for. Some mention of Jonas Mandrin, perhaps, or some news story that might jog his memory, some clue from the tune before he was shot. He was trying to eliminate all items that offered no interest, reading more carefully those items that might provide him with the information he wanted.
He was on the fourth sheaf of newspapers and it was almost midnight when he found an item tucked away in a corner of the newspaper.
DISAPPEARANCEThe $500 reward offered for information as to the whereabouts of Jonas Mandrin has been withdrawn, as Mandrin, who disappeared two years ago, is presumed dead. Mandrin, despondent after the murder of his wife and child during his absence in New York, was reported seen in St. Louis and in Memphis, but then dropped from sight.
A noted hunter of big game and a crack shot, he was president of the newly founded Mandrin Arms Co. of Louisville. He had formerly been a correspondent for various newspapers and magazines in both the United States and Europe. The discovery of several items of clothing and letters has led to the belief that Jonas Mandrin is dead.
Ruble Noon sat very still, staring at the item. The newspaper he held in his hands was five years old, and Jonas Mandrin had disappeared two years prior to that time. The man known as Ruble Noon had appeared in a Missouri tie-camp about a year after the disappearance. It all seemed to fit nicely.
Was he Jonas Mandrin? If so, what led Jonas Mandrin, a sportsman and businessman, to become Ruble Noon, the mankiller?
He returned the papers to the filing cabinet, and went to the door.
"Find what you wanted?" Mallory asked.
Ruble Noon took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, it seems like a good place," he said, "although the railroad will make a difference."
He stepped into the saddle and started down the street, looking for a livery stable.
Mallory got up and went inside. He took down the first sheaf of papers and leafed through them, checking item after item. But it was not until the next day when he returned to the task that he at last found the item about Jonas Mandrin.
He sat back, considering. The reward had been withdrawn, but there might still be somebody who would pay for information. It was worth a chance.
If not worth five hundred dollars, it might be worth a hundred or more even now. He pulled a sheet of paper across the desk and picked up his pen.
The Man Called Noon (1970)
Chapter
That did not imply that this stranger had been a newspaperman, but he had seen a good many of them drifting along the trails - more since the railroad had come in a few months back. Mallory himself was a tramp printer who had worked on more than a dozen newspapers, and not so much as a year on any of them after his first, when he was fourteen. He had worked in big towns and small ones, but he preferred the little towns, and the western ones.
He had been in Mesilla for only three months now, but he was about ready to drift. He was going to try Santa Fe next, or perhaps go to Arizona. He lighted his pipe and tipped back his chair. This stranger, now ... what he had said was true: the best way to make a quick judgment of a town was through its newspaper, to read the advertisements, the news items on local issues ... but Mallory did not for a minute believe this man was interested in settling in Mesilla.
The fact was that Las Cruces was the coming town. Since the railroad had come to Las Cruces the population here had fallen off a little, and the center of activity seemed to be shifting. For himself, he liked Mesilla.
He stoked his pipe again, and glanced around, hitching his chair a little to watch the stranger, who had finished one sheaf of papers and gone on to another. He was scanning the paper with a rapidity that Mallory envied. He was obviously looking for something particular, and he seemed to be checking most of the items.
The difficulty was that Ruble Noon did not himself know what he was looking for. Some mention of Jonas Mandrin, perhaps, or some news story that might jog his memory, some clue from the tune before he was shot. He was trying to eliminate all items that offered no interest, reading more carefully those items that might provide him with the information he wanted.
He was on the fourth sheaf of newspapers and it was almost midnight when he found an item tucked away in a corner of the newspaper.
DISAPPEARANCEThe $500 reward offered for information as to the whereabouts of Jonas Mandrin has been withdrawn, as Mandrin, who disappeared two years ago, is presumed dead. Mandrin, despondent after the murder of his wife and child during his absence in New York, was reported seen in St. Louis and in Memphis, but then dropped from sight.
A noted hunter of big game and a crack shot, he was president of the newly founded Mandrin Arms Co. of Louisville. He had formerly been a correspondent for various newspapers and magazines in both the United States and Europe. The discovery of several items of clothing and letters has led to the belief that Jonas Mandrin is dead.
Ruble Noon sat very still, staring at the item. The newspaper he held in his hands was five years old, and Jonas Mandrin had disappeared two years prior to that time. The man known as Ruble Noon had appeared in a Missouri tie-camp about a year after the disappearance. It all seemed to fit nicely.
Was he Jonas Mandrin? If so, what led Jonas Mandrin, a sportsman and businessman, to become Ruble Noon, the mankiller?
He returned the papers to the filing cabinet, and went to the door.
"Find what you wanted?" Mallory asked.
Ruble Noon took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, it seems like a good place," he said, "although the railroad will make a difference."
He stepped into the saddle and started down the street, looking for a livery stable.
Mallory got up and went inside. He took down the first sheaf of papers and leafed through them, checking item after item. But it was not until the next day when he returned to the task that he at last found the item about Jonas Mandrin.
He sat back, considering. The reward had been withdrawn, but there might still be somebody who would pay for information. It was worth a chance.
If not worth five hundred dollars, it might be worth a hundred or more even now. He pulled a sheet of paper across the desk and picked up his pen.
The Man Called Noon (1970)
Chapter
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