Catfish Charlie by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2023-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Catfish Charlie studied the surface of the catfish pool in the gray dawn light.

As he did, he stroked the big, liver-colored tabby in his arms. Hooligan Hank purred luxuriously, resting his chin on Catfish’s left forearm. Hank had been alone for several days. Not that Hank couldn’t handle being alone. There were few cats as independent as Hank, and that was saying something.

Still, Charlie had returned to his and Hank’s remote cabin the previous night, the first time since he’d ridden out with Brazos to avenge Abel Wilkes and Bushwhack Aimes. Truth be told, he’d missed ol’ Hooligan Hank, and he’d missed his cabin. After returning to Wolfwater with Bethany Wilkes, he’d spent several nights in town, taking brief naps in the jailhouse and working in close tandem with Brazos.

The town needed taming in a bad, bad way. There were stabbings and shootings almost every day and night, and it was going to take a while for the dunder-headed miners, prospectors, cowboys, gamblers, traveling drummers, con artists, and everyone else to get accustomed to the idea that Wolfwater was no longer wide open. Catfish and Brazos intended to button it up fast. They each had the aches and pains to show for it as well. Catfish himself had sore ribs, compliments of the pickax handle swung by a laborer working on yet another infernal railroad, who’d come to town and gotten hammered and in the mood for a fight.

Catfish also had scraped and bruised knuckles, which he looked down at now as he stroked Hooligan Hank. He gave a dry chuff. He had the hands of a working lawman again. He’d be galldanged. He hadn’t figured on toting the five-pointed badge again, but now that he had, he’d kind of taken to the idea. Aside from the job taking him away from his cabin, that was. And despite the possibility of him getting beaten up and/or shot in the back. But that was why he and Brazos had been working closely together—so they could watch each other’s backs.

Just like old times.

To that end, Catfish needed to haul his battered, aching carcass back up onto Jasper’s back and get started on the eight-mile journey to Wolfwater. He’d considered getting a room in town, as Brazos had done, but he couldn’t sleep in town anymore. Not since he’d moved out here and had experienced all this peace and quiet near the catfish pool on Wolfwater Creek.

Peaceful, despite the frustration of the one catfish he hadn’t been able to land.

Bubba Jones.

The one thing Catfish didn’t like about working in town again was, he couldn’t continue his hunt for the elusive fish. He had a feeling Bubba was under the delusion he’d won the war. No, no, no. The war ain’t over, Bubba Jones.

The catfish might have won a few battles, but the war was far from over. Soon Catfish and Brazos would have Wolfwater back purring contentedly and quietly, just like Hooligan Hank was doing in Catfish’s arms. After that, Catfish could

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