Catlow (1963) by Louis L'amour Page A

time as has now come. He is president, and such a treasure would be of enormous use to him--especially with such a formidable rival as Diaz."
    Ben Cowan listened as Allen talked on, discussing the involved politics of the land below the border in that year of 1872.
    Tucson, in many respects, had closer ties with Mexico than with the United States. Only a few years earlier it had in fact been a part of Mexico, and many of the local population had been citizens of Mexico and had relatives there. Many of the local Anglos had married girls of Spanish descent, and were vitally concerned with Mexican affairs.
    Suppose ... just suppose ... that Lerdo had removed those two millions from their hiding place and was having it transferred to Mexico City?
    The possibility was slight, but the chance was there ... depending on where that silver actually was ... and that Mexican soldier could have been a messenger to Catlow.
    "That silver--would it have been somewhere in Sonora when it disappeared?"
    "You've heard the story then? Yes, as a matter of fact, it was. And it dropped right out of sight. But you can take it from me that if anyone knows where it was, Lerdo is the man. He's a deep one. Brilliant man," Allen commented; "shrewd, capable, and yet I do not believe he understands the temper of his people. He has lived too far from them, I think."
    Later that night Ben Cowan loitered at the bar of the Quartz Rock Saloon. He listened to the talk around him but said nothing himself; when the moment came, he spoke quietly to the bartender. "There was a Mex soldier in here ... stranger in town ... stopped around here and the Hanging Wall, talked to Bijah Catlow some. I'd be interested to know what they talked about."
    The bartender hesitated, then met Ben's gaze with cool, searching eyes. "Bijah is a friend of mine. I'd heard he was a friend of yours ... and then you jugged him."
    "Look"--Ben spoke softly--"Bijah is a friend of mine, but he's so damned bull-headed he won't listen to a friend, and he's walking himself right into a trap."
    Cowan knew he was stretching things a bit, but he felt that what he was saying might be true.
    "He's tackled something too big for him, and he's going to get killed unless I can stop him--and I don't even know where he's gone. After all," he added, "I couldn't arrest him in Mexico, anyway."
    "Yeah," the bartender agreed, "that's so."
    He served a beer down the bar, then came back to Ben. "I got no idea where they went--only that Mex, I heard him mention Hermosillo a couple of times ... and something about a mule train. I think," he went on, "he was trying to sell Bijah on the idea that whatever they did had to be done before that mule train reached Hermosillo."
    It was little enough, but Ben Cowan had pieced a trail together on much less. Still, he had no authority in Mexico, and at the moment there was little good feeling between the two countries ... although Washington, and the United States Marshal's office in particular, had instructed him to do all he could to promote good feeling with Mexican officials.
    If it was true--and he had no evidence at all on which to proceed--that Catlow had gone into Mexico to attempt to steal the two millions in treasure long concealed by President Lerdo, then he must be stopped. Such a theft by American bandits, if successful, would deal a serious blow to all future relations with Mexico. Ben Cowan knew what the cooperation of Mexican officials could mean, as did his superiors.
    All right, then. The chances were good that Bijah Catlow had gone to Hermosillo. So Ben Cowan would go there too, trying all the way to pick up the trail he wanted. Fortunately, a man as flamboyant as Catlow would not be difficult to follow.
    For days before Catlow left, Ben had been preparing for a trip. He had bought a pack horse, had purchased supplies and extra ammunition, and while talking with people about the town, he had listened to much discussion of trails into Mexico.
    "The Apaches are