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

He would wait, watch, and if possible kill him.
    Bijah was a tough man but a reckless one. Did he know how dangerous Miller could be?

    Chapter Seven.
    Ben Cowan had an uncomfortable feeling that events were building toward a climax that had no place in his planning.
    It was true that he wanted to arrest Bijah Catlow and get him out of the way before he got into more trouble. It was also true that it was his duty to arrest him, as Bijah himself well knew. Yet first things came first, and in Ben's plans Miller was first in line. But now the trail to Miller led him right to Catlow.
    He made no more inquiries, nor did he manifest any interest in Miller. Tucson was not a large town, and it was easy to find out what he needed to know by listening or by dropping a discreet comment.
    He learned that Moss Burton was well thought of locally. He owned a saddle shop, and had some small interest in mining properties, as did almost everyone else in town. Besides his daughter Cordelia, he had two small sons; his wife had taught for a while in the first school organized by the Anglo-Saxon element.
    In discussing Burton, it was natural that Miller's name would come up. Miller was a tough man, and Moss Burton was no fighter, so Miller had promptly moved in. Also, he was married to Mrs. Burton's sister.
    By the time two days had passed Ben Cowan knew where Miller kept his horse, knew who his friends were, and which places in the Barrio Libre he preferred to others. He also knew that Miller was involved with a young Mexican woman, a widow, and trouble was expected, for her brothers disapproved.
    Ben was quite sure that Miller did not know he had been followed to Tucson. Apparently he had been cautious just because it was his way ... but Ben Cowan took nothing for granted. He wanted Miller, but he wanted him alive if possible.
    Twice he saw Miller on the street, but each time he was close to women or children, and in no place to start anything, and Ben Cowan was not an impatient man. On his third day in town, Ben Cowan saw the Mexican.
    He came up the street riding a hammer-headed roan horse that had been doing some running. He carried a carbine in his hand, wore two belt guns, one butt forward, one back, and crossed cartridge belts on his chest. His wide-bottomed buckskin pants had been slit to reveal fancy cowhide boots, and spurs with rowels bigger than pesos. The Mexican had a scar down one cheek and a thick mustache.
    The Mexican rode to the Quartz Rock Saloon and dismounted there. He kept his carbine in his hand when he went inside. A few moments later, Ben saw a Mexican boy leave the back of the saloon. Ben drew back into the doorway of a vacant adobe and lighted a fresh cigar. Soon the Mexican boy returned.
    Ben studied the roan. The brand was unfamiliar, and looked like a Mexican brand. The horse had come a long way, by the look of him, as had the man. But that was a rugged character, that Mexican soldier, and the ride would not show on him as it would on the horse ... or on several horses.
    Soldier? Now, why had he thought that? He could put his finger on no reason, yet he must have sensed something about the man--call it a hunch. And Ben was not a man who fought his hunches. Too often they had proved out.
    A Mexican soldier here probably meant a deserter--and from just where?
    A horse came up the street at a fast walk and Ben drew deeper into the shadows. The rider was Catlow, who dismounted and went inside.
    Catlow had come from the direction the boy had taken. It did not follow there had to be a connection, but it seemed likely.
    It was strictly by chance that Ben heard the voices.
    The doorway in which he stood was set back from the walk by at least two paces. The window of the adjoining building-- the side window--was only a couple of paces further back. What he heard was a girl's voice.
    "Kinfolk he may be, but he's none of our blood, Pa, and if you don't tell him to go, I shall."
    "Now, now, Cordelia, you can't do that! You can't