Catlow (1963) by Louis L'amour Read Free Book Online

it was Catlow planned, Ben Cowan must stop him. And the simplest way was to get him into jail.
    "You said you had a gun under the table. I don't believe it."
    Catlow grinned. "Don't make me prove it. It was in the top of my boot, and now it's in my lap. Minute ago I had it up my sleeve, but always in my mitt. Yeah," he added, "I'd never take a chance on you. You're too damn' good with a gun."
    "All right, I'll take your word for it, Bijah. But you hand over the gun and I'll take you in--do it now before you go so far there's no turning back."
    Catlow was suddenly serious again. "Not a chance, Ben. This deal I've got lined up--I'll never have a chance like this again, and neither will you. The hell of it is ... Ben, there isn't a man in that outfit I can count on when the chips are down.
    "Oh, there's a couple of them will stick. The Old Man, now. He's one to ride the river with, but he hasn't got the savvy I need. I need somebody who can adjust to a quick change, somebody who can take over if I'm not Johnny-on-the-spot. And you're it."
    The Mexican girl refilled their cups and Ben glanced around the room. It was almost empty, and nobody was within earshot-- not the way they had been talking.
    Gloomily, he reflected there was no way to stop Bijah from going ahead with this deal, whatever it was. Only jail.
    And Bijah was too filled with savvy to be tricked into jail.
    Nor was it time for a gun battle. That was the last thing he wanted. In the first place, he liked Bijah, and had no desire to shoot him; and in the second place ... It was like Hickok and Hardin ... neither wanted a fight, because even if one beat the other he'd probably die in the process. Ben was sure that he was faster and a better shot than Bijah, though with mighty little margin. That would matter, but not much, because Bijah Catlow was game. You might get lead into him, but he'd kill you for it. He would go down shooting.
    Ben Cowan knew too much about guns to believe that old argument that a .45 always knocked a man down. Whoever said that knew very little about guns. If a man was killing mad and coming at you, a .45 wouldn't stop him. You had to hit him right through the heart, the brain, or on a large bone to stop him ... and there had been cases where even that wouldn't do the job. He knew of dozens of cases where it had not stopped a man, and Bijah Catlow would not stop for it.
    Ben recalled a case where two men walked toward each other shooting--starting only thirty feet apart--and each scored four hits out of six shots while getting hit with .45-calibre slugs.
    Bijah leaned over the table again. "Look, Ben, while you're in Tucson, why not declare a truce? Then you make your try any time I'm out of town."
    "Sorry."
    Bijah got up. "Have it your own way, then." The derringer he held in his big hand was masked from the rest of the room by the size of his hand. "You just sit tight."
    He stepped to the door, then disappeared through it, but Ben Cowan made no move to follow. The time was not now.
    It would come.
    Men who are much alone, when meeting with other people either talk too much or become taciturn. Ben Cowan was of the latter sort. He had a genuine liking for people, finding qualities to appreciate in even the worst of them, but usually he was silent, an onlooker rather than a participant.
    People who saw Catlow for the first time knew him immediately for a tough, dangerous man. But with Ben, although people might take a second look at him, it was only the old-timers who sized him up as a man to leave alone. It is a fact that really dangerous men often do not look it.
    Strolling to the edge of the boardwalk, Ben looked down the busy street, letting all his senses take in the town. His eyes, his ears, his nose were alert, and something else ... that subtle intuitive sense that allows certain men to perceive undercurrents, movements, and changes in atmosphere.
    Bijah Catlow had disappeared, but the Mexican half a block away who was too obviously