The judge rapped his gavel and I jumped, not looking for that noise.  The crowd broke up to leave.  I had not been able to get a good look at that Odus Wharton but now I did when he stood up with an officer on each side of him.  Even though he had one arm in a sling they kept his wrists cuffed in court.  That was how dangerous he was.  If there ever was a man with black murder in his countenance it was Odus Wharton.  He was a half-breed with eyes that were mean and close-set and that stayed open all the time like snake eyes.  It was a face hardened in sin.  Creeks are good Indians, they say, but a Creek-white like him or a Creek-Negro is something else again.

When the officers were taking Wharton out he passed by Rooster Cogburn and said something to him, some ugly insult or threat, you could tell.  Rooster just looked at him.  The people pushed me on through the door and outside.  I waited on the porch.

Rooster was one of the last ones out.  He had a paper in one hand and a sack of tobacco in the other and he was trying to roll a cigarette.  His hands were shaking and he was spilling tobacco.

I approached him and said, "Mr. Rooster Cogburn?"

He said, "What is it?"  His mind was on something else.

I said, "I would like to talk with you a minute."

He looked me over.  "What is it?" he said.

I said, "They tell me you are a man with true grit."

He said, "What do you want, girl?  Speak up.  It is suppertime."

I said, "Let me show you how to do that."  I took the half-made cigarette and shaped it up and licked it and sealed it and twisted the ends and gave it back to him.  It was pretty loose because he had already wrinkled the paper.  He lit it and it flamed up and burned about halfway down.

I said, "Your makings are too dry."

He studied it and said, "Something."

I said, "I am looking for the man who shot and killed my father, Frank Ross, in front of the Monarch boardinghouse.  The man's name is Tom Chaney.  They say he is over in the Indian Territory and I need somebody to go after him."

He said, "What is your name, girl?  Where do you live?"

"My name is Mattie Ross," I replied.  "We are located in Yell County near Dardanelle.  My mother is at home looking after my sister Victoria and my brother Little Frank."

"You had best go home to them," said he.  "They will need some help with the churning."

I said, "The high sheriff and a man in the marshal's office have given me the full particulars.  You can get a fugitive warrant for Tom Chaney and go after him.  The Government will pay you two dollars for bringing him in plus ten cents a mile for each of you.  On top of that I will pay you a fifty-dollar reward."

"You have looked into this a right smart," said he.

"Yes, I have," said I.  "I mean business."

He said, "What have you got there in your poke?"