Catlow (1963) by Louis L'amour

bound him and his daughter, taken the keys from him, and opened the cell to let Catlow out.
    She had not been molested in any way. In fact, aside from threatening her with the gun, they had treated her with utmost politeness.
    Knowing Bijah and how well-liked he was among the Spanish-speaking population, Ben Cowan suspected the jailer's daughter had been only too willing to cooperate, and the gun a mere gesture. The jailer himself did not seem very disturbed by the escape.
    In disgust, Ben Cowan tore up the report of Catlow's capture and headed for the stable for his horse.
    The horse was gone. Tacked to the side of the stall was a note.
    You can pick him up at Pete Kitchen's. Sorry to set you afoot, but I got business to attend to.
    There was no signature, and no need for one, but within the hour Ben Cowan realized just how many friends Catlow had, and how important they could be, for nobody in town had a horse that was ready to go. Either they had just gone lame, or they had been promised, or they were out at pasture, or somehow indisposed.
    By afternoon several people came to him offering him horses, but they knew and he knew that by that time Bijah Catlow was gone beyond recapture, and the town of Tucson was chuckling again.
    Ben Cowan sat behind the scarred desk in the jail office and considered the situation. Bijah Catlow, and Miller as well-- both had eluded him.
    Bijah Catlow had undoubtedly gone to Mexico. Ben Cowan considered the probabilities and decided that Miller had gone the same way. He was a deserter, although his time in the Army had been of brief duration, and possibly only for the chance to watch the paymaster. He must avoid places where he might be recognized. His stop in Tucson was probably en route to Mexico, anyway.
    Bijah Catlow had spoken of a big strike. Allowing for exaggeration, what were his chances in Sonora or Chihuahua, both within riding distance? Carefully, Ben considered the possibilities, but they were few and none seemed to promise anything like the amount of money Catlow must have had in mind, from the way he talked and planned.
    The arrival of the Mexican soldier was obviously tied in with his plan. Had it then, anything to do with the Mexican army? A payroll, perhaps? Or captured loot?
    With no idea of what way to take, Ben Cowan began in the only way he knew how: he began by asking questions, by starting a conversation in the direction he wished it to go, and then just listening. What he wanted to know about was Mexico.
    The hint that he needed came from Allen. They were talking over lunch at the Palace--the Shoo-Fly's only rival in Tucson-- and Allen was commenting on the death of Juarez and the succession of Lerdo to the presidency.
    "You know," Allen said, "I have been expecting this would happen, and wondering if when it happened that silver would turn up."
    "Silver?"
    "Sebastian Lerdo de Tejada was the strong right arm of Juarez during some trying times, and before the French intervention both the Conservatives and the Liberals were in desperate need of money. The simplest way to get it was to confiscate some of the shipments from the mines, and Lerdo moved swiftly. One of those shipments had just been seized when, on June 10th, 1863, General Forey, with 30,000 French soldiers, entered the City of Mexico.
    "Juarez fled to San Luis Potosi, and the mule train loaded with two million dollars in silver and gold vanished from sight. Yet in 1867 when Juarez was elected president and Lerdo was in his cabinet, there was already a somewhat reserved feeling between them. Later, Lerdo ran against Juarez for the presidency, was defeated, but became president of the Supreme Court; and on the death of Juarez, Lerdo became president."
    "What about the two millions in silver?"
    "Some of that two millions was in gold. Well, nobody who knows the whole story will tell it; but Lerdo had ambitions of his own, and apparently kept the knowledge of that treasure to himself, holding it hack against such a