Catlow (1963) Read Online Free Page B

town was still booming, and Marshal Hickok walked the center of the street, a tall, splendidly built man with auburn hair hanging to his shoulders, his clothing immaculate, his gun always ready for action.
    He was the first man Ben Cowan saw when he rode into town.
    Hickok had paused on a street corner, glancing each way from the Merchants Hotel. He wore a black frock coat, a low-brimmed black hat, and two ivory-butted and silver-mounted pistols thrust behind a red silk sash.
    "Mr. Hickok? I'm Ben Cowan."
    Hickok's eyes went from Cowan's eyes to the badge he wore. Hickok held out his hand. "How do you do? What can I do for you?"
    Briefly, Cowan explained about Bijah Catlow and the herd. "I know the country down there," Cowan said at the end, "and these cattle were mavericks, open to branding by anyone. I have no share in the business, but Bijah pulled me out of a hole down in the Cross Timbers, and he's a good man."
    "We've a letter on the cattle," Hickok replied, "but I am not interested in what happened in Texas. You tell Catlow to drive his cattle to the stock pens. He won't be bothered unless he or his men make trouble here."
    Hickok thrust out his hand again. "Glad to know you, Marshal. We've heard of you."
    Ben Cowan limped back to his horse and rode to the Drover's Cottage, where he took a room, and then sat down to write out his report on the case of the Tonkawa Kid. When he had completed it and left it with the mail at the stage station, he went to the telegraph office and wired Fort Smith.
    Hack at his room he arranged for a bath, and after he had taken it he changed into new clothing bought at Herman Meyer's Clothing Store alongside of the Merchants Hotel.
    Bijah Catlow joined him at supper in the dining room at the Drover's Cottage. "Twenty-five dollars a head," Bijah said with a broad smile on his face, "and we split it ten ways, two shares for Johnny Caxton."
    He reached into his shirt pocket. "Here's the tally sheet, stamped by the buyer. We picked up a few head of Tumblin' SS's and Ninety-Fours drivin' through, so here's their money. Will you see they get it?"
    Ben accepted the money without comment, but offered a receipt. "You're rawhidin' me," Bijah said. "Money in trust to you is safer than any bank."
    He looked at Ben, and slowly he began to grin. As he did so he reached for another bit of paper and pushed it across the table. "Stopped by the telegraph office. This is for you."
    Ben Cowan opened the folded paper and glanced at it, then he looked up at Bijah. "Did you see this?"
    "Sure! I always was too damn' nosey."
    Ben glanced down again.
    OFFICE OF THE U.S. MARSHAL
    FORT SMITH, ARKANSAS.
    CONSIDER THIS A WARRANT FOR THE ARREST OF ABIJAH CATLOW, RIO BRAY, AND OLD MAN MERRIDEW, WANTED FOR MURDER AND CATTLE THEFT.
    LOGAN S. ROOTS
    U.S. MARSHAL

    Chapter Four.
    Outside in the street, a drunken cowhand whooped as he raced his horse past the Drover's Cottage. In the dining room, with its tables covered with linen cloths, it was very still.
    "It's my duty to take you in."
    "I know it is."
    "The hell with it!" Ben said. "If you were guilty, I'd take you in, but they'll send you to Texas for trial, with Parkman telling the judge what to do. I'll resign first."
    Bijah Catlow leaned back in his chair and glanced around the room. Only a few of the tables were occupied by cattlemen, cattle buyers, or land speculators.
    "Ben, you're buying me the best supper this place can offer, with the best wine ... and they tell me these cattle buyers have fancy tastes. After that," he leaned his forearms on the table, "you're going to arrest me and take me to Fort Smith."
    "The devil I will!"
    "Look, you're the law. You couldn't be anything else if you tried. If you resign now you've lost all you've gained. You go ahead and take me in. It'll be all right."
    Ben Cowan started to protest, but he knew it was just what might be expected from a hot-headed, temperamental, impulsive cowhand like Bijah Catlow.
    "What about Rio and the