Herne the Hunter 18 by John J. McLaglen

Author:John J. McLaglen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: the old west, piccadilly publishing, john j mclaglen, herne the hunter, western fiction ebook, bounty hunters and outlaws, john h arvey, wild west cowboy fiction
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Seven

George Rawlings had grown into his badge a long time back. He’d been toting a gun or two and pinning one shield or another onto his leather vest for near on twenty years. That took him up around Herne’s age but there were few men who’d dare to call him old man. Most of the reason for that was the six pointed star with the words US Marshal engraved on it. Plain and simple, nothing the least bit fancy. It gave Rawlings the right to go most places, to cross state lines in search of whoever he wanted; it showed him as a man to be feared and respected.

Unless you knew of Jed Herne’s reputation or unless you’d seen him in action with his Colt, it was possible to misjudge him the way the folk back at Cimaron Falls had – a drifter who was getting past his prime.

The badge on George Rawling’s vest stopped that before it begun. Not only the badge, though, for Rawlings made a point of keeping himself spruce and tidy. His beard was shaved down to his lean, tanned skin each morning, his hair clipped and scissored every few weeks; he wore shirts that usually looked as if they’d recently been laundered even if they hadn’t. His boots were high polished and his Stetson blocked and brushed. The silver buckle of his gun belt shone. Everything about George Rawlings yelled out: step aside and keep well clear ’cause I’m comin’ through.

That’s the way it was when Marshal Rawlings headed his posse into Cimaron Falls.

~*~

When Dan Yester turned back into his office, waiting for Cohen to carry on at him about letting Herne ride out of town, he’d got the town councilor’s reason wrong. Cohen had that minute received a telegraph message from the US Marshal, stating his intention to stop over at Cimaron Falls. It was with this news that Cohen was hotfooting it towards the sheriff’s office. Needless to say, seeing Herne taking off gave him another concern, but it was George Rawlings’ imminent arrival that was uppermost in his mind.

‘There weren’t no point to it,’ Yester began, but Cohen ignored him.

‘Just got word,’ he said, waving the piece of yellow paper, ‘Marshal’s on his way.’

‘Too late for Herne,’ Yester said, still not understanding. ‘I couldn’t hold him on evidence like we’d got, it weren’t.’

‘I’m not interested in that good-for-nothing,’ stormed Cohen. ‘Now you hear what I’m saying. The US Marshal and his posse are arriving in town at any minute. I want us to show him that this community is both law-abiding and intending to stay so. This Rawlings, he came through here eighteen months back and the things he said about your predecessor wouldn’t bear printing. Admittedly, Sheriff Tozcek was sobering up from a three night drunk at the time and the cells were jammed tight with a mixture of whores and gamblers and other ruffians, but the marshal, he wasn’t wearing no excuses. Told Tozcek, straight to his face, that he was a disgrace to his badge.

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