Chapter Eleven
Early August 1869
Cat and many of the Freedom Towners were almost finished with lunch one brisk sunny day when the La Junta sheriff trotted his horse down the north rim. When he arrived at Headquarters, he headed his lathered horse straight to the water trough.
Cat approached him and said, “Howdy, sheriff. Your horse looks plum-tuckered out. Let’s get him some oats and you some grub. What brings you down here in such a hurry?”
“Cat, I have some information you probably need to hear.”
“Okay, spill the beans while we walk to the barn.”
“Six strangers have been hanging around La Junta for the last few days. They have Spanish accents and look like former military men. They’re riding fine Paso Fino horses like Gato owns. I overheard a conversation in a saloon last ni
