was an excited babble of Cajun French and English. Fargo overheard bits and snatches but not enough to tell him what the fuss was about.
Liana came over. “Do you see that man? He has just come from deep in the swamp. He says someone else has gone missing.”
“Who?” Fargo asked, hoping it wasn’t the man who sent for him.
“A friend of his. They have a cabin. The friend went out to chop wood and never came back.”
“When was this?”
“Four days ago. The man looked and looked but couldn’t find a trace. He says he will not go back. He is going off to New Orleans to live until people stop disappearing.” Liana sadly shook her head. “He is not the first to leave and I expect he will not be the last.”
Shortly after nine Fargo drifted outside to stretch his legs and check on the Ovaro. It would still be a couple of hours before Liana was free. He strolled the length of the single street and back again, listening to the crickets and the frogs and the other sounds that issued from the swamp. Moths fluttered at a shack window, drawn by the light.
Fargo was almost to the tavern when he turned to watch a black cat cross the street. His back was to the darkness, a mistake, as it turned out, because out of the dark rushed three men who pounced before he could draw. Two grabbed his arms and held fast while the third smirked and wagged a long-bladed knife.
“Did you think I would forgive and forget?” Doucet asked.
Fargo sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Let me go and there won’t be any hard feelings.”
“You jest. You struck me, remember? I do not know about where you come from, but no one strikes a Cajun and just walks away.”
Fargo glanced at the men holding him and made one last try. “I have no quarrel with you.”
Doucet uttered a sharp bark. “Do you hear him, Pitre? Do you hear him, Babin? He comes among us and spits on our honor and then tries to talk his way out of it.”
“I was sent for by one of you,” Fargo revealed. “I have his letter in my saddlebags.”
“What do we care if you were invited or not? You are an outsider and that is all that counts.” Doucet raised the blade so the tip was inches from Fargo’s cheek. “Scream if you want. I don’t care if Liana hears and is angry with me. I have this to do.”
“You’re a jackass.”
“Another insult. Even as I hold a knife to your face. You are not strong on brains, outsider.”
The Cajun holding Fargo’s right arm said, “Enough. Do what you will but don’t toy with him.”
“What’s the matter, Babin? No stomach for it?”
“I believe that when you need to hurt a man, you get it over with. You don’t talk him to death.”
“I agree,” Pitre chimed in.
“And you call yourselves my friends?” Doucet said in considerable disgust. “But very well. I’ll cut him and be done with it.”
“No, you won’t,” Fargo said, and swept his boots up from the ground and slammed them against Doucet’s chest. Doucet bleated in surprise and stumbled back. Instantly, Fargo shifted, throwing all his weight into throwing Pitre off-balance. He succeeded. Pitre lost his hold and fell to one knee. Babin, caught flat-footed, recovered and tried to trip Fargo and bring him down but Fargo unleashed an uppercut that sent Babin tottering.
Doucet came at him with the knife.
Fargo sidestepped, clamped both hands on the Cajun’s arm, and drove his knee into Doucet’s elbow. There was a
Pitre and Babin sprang from opposite sides—Pitre with his arms out and his fingers hooked like claws; Babin going low to tackle Fargo around the legs.
Moving too swiftly for their eyes to follow, Fargo caught Pitre with a backhand to the face while simultaneously kicking Babin in the head. Both men drew away and Fargo went after Pitre. He ducked a wild swing and rammed his fist into Pitre’s mouth. Blood spurted from pulped lips. A quick chop ended it.
That left Babin. He had scrambled to one side and was in a crouch. “No more, monsieur.”
Fargo’s dander was up. “Why should I spare you?”
“We were wrong, monsieur. And two wrongs don’t make a right. Isn’t that what they say?”
“There’s another saying I’m fond of,” Fargo said. “Maybe you’ve heard of it. An eye for an eye.” He took a bound and planted his boot in Babin’s face. Babin tried to dodge but he was too slow. Knocked flat onto his back, he held both palms out.
“I will not fight you. Beat me if you want but for me this is over.”
Fargo moved to Doucet. The rooster was out to the world, blood dribbling from his mouth. “When he comes around tell him something for me.”
“Let me guess. Should he lift a finger against you again, he would be wise to have a coffin made first.”
“I couldn’t have said it better.” Fargo looked at Babin. “Get it through your heads that I might be an outsider but I was sent for. I’m here to help.”
“Help do what, exactly?”
Fargo didn’t answer. Instead, he wheeled and went into the tavern. Apparently no one had heard the ruckus, or if they had, they chose to ignore it. Several men had claimed his table in his absence so he stalked to the bar, and when Liana came over he asked for a bottle.
“Is something the matter?”
“Doucet.”
“Not again?”
“Some idiots never learn.” Fargo upended the red-eye and chugged. “The good news is, he didn’t spoil my mood.”
“Your mood?” Liana said quizzically, and smiled. “Oh. Thank goodness. Although I have heard that men are always in the mood.”
Fargo stayed at the bar. The Cajuns wanted nothing to do with him and left him alone, which suited him fine. Most left long before closing time, heading home to their wives and children. He downed half the bottle by eleven and was the last man in the tavern.
“At last I can close. It’s been a long day. I need to relax.”
Fargo gave her another of his hungry looks. “I know just the way.”
“I bet you do.” Liana stood in front of him, her breasts nearly brushing his chest. “I hope you are not all talk. I would be
Without any hint of what he was about to do, Fargo cupped her twin mounds and squeezed. Liana arched her back, her cherry lips forming a delectable O. A soft sigh issued from her throat. When she looked at him she had a hunger in her eyes to match his.
“What is good for the goose is good for the gander,
She cupped him, low down.
Now it was Fargo’s turn to go rigid with tingling pleasure. He felt her stroke him and his pole became iron. “And you said I was bold?”
“You will find that most Cajun women are not shy about their needs,” Liana informed him. “When we see a man we like, we go after him.”
“Do you have any sisters?”
Liana laughed, and Fargo glued his mouth to hers. His tongue met hers in a velvet swirl as he kneaded her breasts with one hand while roving his other down over her flat belly to the junction of her thighs.
Breaking the kiss, Liana stepped back. “
For a moment Fargo thought she had been toying with him, that the whole thing was an act. “Why not?”
Liana gestured at the windows. “Someone might look in. I have a room in the back. It is most comfortable, with a nice bed. Permit me to lock up and put out the lamps.”
Fargo liked the idea of a bed over the floor or a tabletop. “Whatever you want.” He patted her bottom as she moved past. “I’m in no hurry. I have all night.” He only hoped the man he was supposed to meet showed up. The letter had been sent six weeks ago, and the man might have changed his mind or be dead for all he knew. “Tell me.
