the Harlows could spill over into the settlement. Cottonwood was where everyone in the area had to come for supplies.
Sam pinned the badge onto his buckskin shirt. Coleman nodded in satisfaction and said, “Looks mighty good.”
Before Sam could make any reply, one of the townsmen jerked the door open and stuck his head inside the office. “Marshal, come quick!” he said. “You ought to take a look at this!”
Coleman didn’t waste any time standing up. “What is it?” he asked the townie.
“Prison wagons comin’ into town, from the looks of it!” the man replied.
Sam recalled what Frankie Harlow had told him and Matt about the special marshals sent out by the governor using prison wagons to tranport the men they arrested for brewing, selling, or possessing illegal liquor. It sounded like the marshals were paying a visit to Cottonwood after all.
Coleman and Sam followed the townie outside. Quite a few people had congregated on the street to watch the new arrivals. There were four wagons in the convoy, flanked by outriders on horseback. The vehicles had enclosed beds that formed eight-foot-by-ten-foot cells. A door with a barred window was on the back of each wagon, and there was a small, barred window in each side for ventilation.
Those openings wouldn’t let in much air, though, and Sam had a hunch that on a hot day, like most days were at this time of year, the backs of those wagons would be like sweatboxes.
Ambrose Porter sat on a driver’s box attached to the front of the lead wagon. Calvin Bickford handled the team hitched to the second wagon, and two of the deputies drove the other pair. The men brought the vehicles to a stop in front of Marshal Coleman’s office.
Porter nodded and said, “Marshal, I’m sure you remember us. We stopped by here a few weeks ago to let you know that we’d be working in your area.”
Coleman grunted. “Yeah, I appreciated that.” Clearly, he wasn’t too fond of the governor’s men. “Something I can do for you?”
Porter jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the wagon he’d been driving. “As a matter of fact, there is. We have some wounded men here, and we’d like to have your local doctor take a look at them before we start for Wichita.” Porter smiled thinly. “We wouldn’t want them to die along the way so that they couldn’t face justice for their crimes.”
“What crime would that be?” Coleman asked. “Bein’ thirsty?”
Porter’s insincere smile disappeared. “The legislature passed that law, Marshal, not me. If you have a problem with it, take it up with them. Now, where can we find the doctor?”
“Take those wagons over by the creek and park ’em in the shade of the cottonwoods,” Coleman said. “At least that way, those fellas you’ve got locked up can be a mite more comfortable. I’ll go get the doctor and bring him over there.”
“I don’t care whether these lawbreakers are comfortable or not.” Porter shrugged. “But I suppose it won’t hurt anything. We’ll be by the creek.”
He lifted the reins and flicked them against the backs of the mules hitched to the wagon. The team stepped forward, and the wagon rolled toward the creek, followed by the others. As the vehicles moved past, Sam heard the groans coming from the wounded prisoners in the first one. The men in the other wagons were cursing monotonously. Bickford nodded pleasantly to Sam as he drove past, evidently recalling him from their encounter the day before.
“I’ll go down to Doc Berger’s office,” Coleman said when the wagons were gone. “You want your first job as my deputy, Sam?”
“Sure.”
Coleman nodded. “Good. Keep an eye on those wagons while I’m gone.”
“You think those prisoners might give some trouble?” Sam asked.
“I’m more worried about those special marshals,” Coleman said bluntly. “Especially Porter. I didn’t like the looks of him when he came through here before, and I still don’t. As far as I’m concerned, the man’s just one step above a hired killer.”
“He’s a lawman, too,” Sam pointed out.
“So they say.” Coleman sighed. “All I know is that I’d just as soon never have seen that bunch again. I’ll be happy when they leave town, and as far as I’m concerned, I hope they never come back!”
Chapter 17
Matt watched until Sam had ridden through the cut in the ridge and was out of sight. Then he turned to go back into the Harlow cabin, but before he reached the door, Frankie came out.
“Come on,” she said. “Pa asked me to show you around the place.”
Matt nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
Any excuse to spend more time with Frankie Harlow was just fine with Matt, even if she
Although not as friendly as she’d been the night before when she was kissing him in the barn, he thought…
She led him past the barn and pointed along the ridge. “See where the smoke’s coming up there, a couple of hundred yards away?” she asked.
“I see it,” Matt said. “Is that where the still is?”
“Yeah. Come on. I’ll show you.”
