of metal under a chair told him where it was. So far, Tull hadn’t seen it. “I came out for a drink of water.”
“You could have just hollered.”
“And wake everyone up? I figured I could do it myself.”
“Ain’t you considerate,” Tull scoffed. He moved to the table, swung a chair around, and straddled it. “Am I supposed to believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because that corn-haired filly yonder put a full pitcher and a glass on the dresser in the bedroom. I saw her with my own eyes.”
“I didn’t. I was out.”
Tull scratched his chin with his Colt. “Now that I think of it, you were. You just might be telling the truth, seeing as how you don’t have a weapon.” He indicated a bucket on the counter. “Help yourself.”
Fargo had to try twice to stand. Once again he swayed.
“Look at you. A puff of wind and you’re liable to keel over.”
“Can I untie the Harpers?”
“I’ll do it in the morning when I wake up. Get your water and get back to bed.”
Fargo took a few halting steps and deliberately swayed even worse. “I need to sit down or someone will have to carry me.”
“Don’t look at me.” Tull pointed his Colt at the very chair the Arkansas toothpick was under. “Sit there. But as soon as you’ve caught your breath, get your damn water and get back into the damn bed.”
Fargo put on a show of gratefully slumping down. He bent over with his elbows on his legs and bowed his head. “I’m about done in.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
Fargo contrived to peer under the chair. The toothpick was just out of reach. He shifted slightly and slowly eased his hand down along the chair leg. He didn’t think Tull noticed. He was wrong.
“What are you doing?”
“Just scratching an itch.” Fargo straightened. He closed his eyes but not all the way.
Tull was staring suspiciously at the floor under the chair. Suddenly rising, he leveled his Colt. “Get up and take three steps back.”
“What?”
“You heard me. And do it pronto or lose a knee.” Reluctantly, his hands out from his sides, Fargo counted the steps off. He could see the toothpick but it might as well be on the moon for all the good it was doing him.
Tull could see it, too. “What
Fargo sensed what was coming and braced himself. “So this is what I get for sparing you? A knife in the gizzard?” Tull rose. “You miserable son of a bitch.”
Mary tried to say something through her gag.
“Shut up, cow,” Tull snapped. He tossed the toothpick onto the table and advanced on Fargo, a vicious sneer curling his cruel face. “I’ve changed my mind, mister. If Cud wants to know who you are and what you were doing here, he can ask you in hell.”
Fargo tried to dodge the boot rising toward his gut but he was too slow. Pain brought him to his knees. He flung out his arms to ward off a second kick and never saw the sweep of the Colt but he felt the blow to his temple. The next he knew, he was on his side with the killer gloating over him.
“Any last words, mister? Any begging you care to do? It won’t change anything but you can grovel if you want.”
Fargo glared.
“Tough bastard, is that it? Well, we’ll see. It’s been a while since I stomped anyone to death.”
Over in the corner Mary and Nelly were trying to speak and thrashing wildly about.
“You’re going to be a long time dying.”
Jayce began kicking the wall.
“Cut that out!” Tull growled, not taking his eyes off Fargo. “All that fuss to keep me from kicking your teeth in. They must like you, mister. When I’m done, I’ll give each of them a tooth as a keepsake.”
Fargo placed his hands flat on the floor. He had one chance and one chance only.
“This is going to be fun,” Tull said, and raised his boot.
7
Fargo stood no chance in a fight. He was too weak to last long. Tull knew it but he had overlooked one thing. Fargo didn’t
The killer cursed and staggered back. Sputtering, he clutched himself. His face became red, almost purple. “You’re dead, you bastard.” He tried to raise his pearl-handled Colt.
Fargo heaved off the floor. The movement made him light-headed, but he lashed out, swatting Tull’s wrist just as the Colt went off. The revolver thundered loud in the confines of the cabin. The slug missed him and struck a wall.
“Kill you!” Tull railed, and thumbed back the hammer to try again.
Fargo punched him, a short, brutal chop to the throat that sent Tull crashing onto his side.
Now the sounds that came from Tull’s throat weren’t words. They were gurgles and snarls. He’d dropped the Colt and now he grabbed for it, his fingers rigid claws.
Bending, Fargo punched him again, in the side of the neck. Not once, but three times, and after the third blow Tull broke out in convulsions and loud whines burst from his gaping mouth.
Fargo reached for the Colt. He moved as slow as a turtle but he got it in his hand. He cocked it and placed the muzzle against Tull’s forehead. “You shouldn’t treat a lady like that.” He squeezed the trigger.
The commotion in the corner had ceased. Mary and her young ones were gaping at the brains and hair and gore. Nelly made gagging sounds. Jayce laughed with glee.
Wincing, Fargo reclaimed his toothpick and shuffled over. “I’ll have you free in a moment.” Since he couldn’t trust his legs, he sat down. Mary was on her knees, staring at him, and there was a question in her eyes. He removed the gag and threw the cloth aside. “Did he hurt you any?”
“No. I’m more worried about you. You’re as white as a sheet.”
Fargo nodded at the brains and the blood. “Sorry about the mess.”
“He didn’t give you a choice.”
“You’re safe now,” Fargo said, and began carefully cutting the rope around her wrists.
“I wish that were true. But Cud Sten will be here soon. Tull was a friend of his. He won’t like this one bit. And he won’t care that you were defending yourself.”
“Who says he has to find out?”
“You mean bury the body where Cud will never find it? That still leaves Tull’s horse. I’d take it up into the mountains and leave it in a box canyon I know of—only with all the snow, it would starve.”
“We can say the horse showed up by itself,” Fargo suggested. “Then we’ll show him the dead wolves and let him add two and two himself.”
Mary smiled. “It just might work. So long as Cud doesn’t catch on that you were the one the wolves nearly tore apart.”
“So long as I don’t go around naked, he won’t suspect.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she gave a light cough. “You can wear some of Frank’s clothes. You’re taller than he was, so they might not fit all that well, but it’s the best we can do.”
The rope finally parted and Fargo gave the toothpick to her. He was on the brink of collapse. With difficulty, he stood and moved to the stove. The pot of chicken soup was cold but he didn’t care. He took a ladle from a hook and carried the pot and the ladle and the Colt to the table. Setting the Colt down, he ate as one starved.
