“You’d better chew that or you’ll make yourself sick,” Mary cautioned, coming over. She had cut Nelly free and Nelly was doing the same for her brother. “I can heat it if you’d like.”
“No,” Fargo said with his mouth crammed.
“Would you care for some coffee? I don’t have much left but I’ll put a pot on to brew.”
Fargo was tempted but the coffee might keep him up and he needed sleep as much as he needed anything. “Maybe in the morning.”
The children crossed to their mother and she draped her arms over their shoulders.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Fargo told them. He meant it. Kids and horses—he didn’t like to see either suffer.
Nelly shrugged. “It was no worse than that day we watched the grizzly eat our pa.”
“I’d like to see you shoot him again,” Jayce said. “He was mean to my ma. He had it coming.”
Mary knelt and took hold of her son’s hands. “Now who is being mean? No one ever deserves to die.”
Fargo disagreed, and ladled more soup into his mouth to keep from saying so.
“But you’re right in one respect,” Mary went on. “Sometimes the only way to deal with men like Mr. Tull is to do what no one should ever have to do.”
Fargo had lost count of the number of times he’d had to do it. The frontier was chock-full of Tulls. They came in all sizes and guises, and they all had one trait in common: They were heartless bastards who didn’t care who they hurt.
“Now why don’t the two of you scoot to bed while I take care of Mr. Tull?” Mary hugged and kissed first Nelly and then Jayce, and they headed for a door on the other side of the room.
“I’ll help you,” Fargo offered.
“You’ll do no such thing. It would only make you worse.” Mary stared down at the body. “It shouldn’t be all that hard for me to drag him outside. In the morning I’ll bury him if I can find a spot of ground soft enough.”
Fargo hadn’t thought of that. What with the cold and the snow, the ground would be rock hard. “That was a nice talk you gave your boy.”
“You think so? He’s young yet. He doesn’t need to know the truth.”
Puzzled, Fargo asked, “Which truth are we talking about?”
“Tull
The shock of her language took a few seconds to wear off so that Fargo could say, “And here I reckoned you were one of those weak sisters who sticks her head in the sand rather than take life as it is.”
“I suppose I gave that impression. But it was for my son’s and daughter’s benefit. The harsh realities of life will beat on them soon enough. I don’t see a reason to hurry it along.”
Fargo found himself admiring her more and more. “One face for your kids and one for the mirror?”
“Something like that, yes,” Mary answered with a grin. “You catch on quick. Are you a parent, yourself?”
“Hell, no. I’m not ready to set down roots.” Then there was the little matter of meeting the right woman.
“It’s hard, Skye. Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do, and that includes giving birth. But I wouldn’t trade being a mother for all the ill-gotten gains Cud Sten makes from his rustling and robbing.”
Fargo put a hand on the Colt. “I hope Tull has plenty of ammunition in his saddlebags.”
Those lovely emerald eyes of her narrowed. “Surely you don’t have the notion I think you’re toying with? You’re one man and he’ll have seven or eight others with him. All as vicious as Tull.”
“He’s made your life miserable long enough.”
“No, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Besides the odds, there’s the shape you’re in.”
“I can mend a lot before he gets here.”
“But why? We hardly know each other.”
“I like what I know. I like it a lot.”
“Oh.” Mary looked away. When she faced him again, there was the same question in her eyes. But she quickly recovered her composure. “You finish eating your food and I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes, Ma,” Fargo teased.
Mary laughed, the first real laugh he heard from her. She covered her mouth as if self-conscious of what she had done, then said, “You perplex me, sir. More than any man I ever met.”
“Does that include your Frank?”
“Frank was a good man. He was devoted and hardworking. A simple man, some would say.” Mary paused. “But I suspect there’s nothing simple about you. There’s nothing simple at all.”
“I’m as ordinary as water.”
Mary glanced at Tull. “Say what you will, but I know better.” She went into the bedroom and came out with a blanket. Spreading it on the floor, she rolled Tull onto it. It took some doing. She was huffing when she was done. She placed Tull’s hat on his chest and went to wrap the blanket around him.
“Wait.” Fargo had eaten enough that newfound vitality was coursing through his veins. He got up and went over and hunkered. “Waste not, want not, I’ve heard folks say.” He began to go through the dead man’s pockets.
“I should have thought of it,” Mary said.
Fargo found the usual. A pocketknife. A plug of tobacco. A crumpled letter he had no interest in. And a poke that jangled. He undid the tie string and upended the poke over the floor and out spilled double eagles and other coins and a wad of bills.
“My word, where did all that come from?”
“That rustling and robbing you were talking about, remember?” Fargo counted it. “Two hundred and forty- seven dollars.”
“That’s more than my Frank and I had at any one time in all the years we were married.”
Fargo kept the forty-seven for himself. He put the two hundred back in the poke and placed it in her hand. “Here.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
Mary stared at it and trembled slightly. “I couldn’t. It’s not right.”
“He sure as hell has no use for it.”
“But like you say, he got it by dishonest means.”
“So? If you knew where he got it from, you could give some of it back if it bothered you that much, but you don’t. And it would be stupid to let it go to waste. It’s yours, and that’s that.”
“Oh, Skye.”
A tingle ran down Fargo’s spine, startling him. “Don’t make more of it than there is,” he said more gruffly than he intended.
“Do you realize what this means for me and my children?”
Fargo patted the forty-seven dollars. “For me this means a poker game and a bottle of whiskey.” He unbuckled Tull’s gun belt and stripped it off. Then he wrapped the body in the blanket, stood, and took hold of the shoulders. “You get the other end and we’ll drag him out.”
“You’re in no condition,” Mary warned. “I can do it myself.”
“We don’t have all night. My cold soup is getting colder, and I’d like to eat a little more before I turn in.”
Reluctantly, Mary did as he wanted. Working together they hauled the body to the front door. Fargo was caked with sweat and could barely stand, but he opened the door and helped her push the body out. When he straightened, he swayed and had to the grip the wall to stay on his feet.
“See? I told you.” Mary stood at his side and hooked her arm around his waist. “Lean on me. I’ll get you to bed.”
“You’ll get me to the table. I told you I’m not done eating.”
“Why are men so stubborn?”
“Why do women ask such silly questions?”
Mary grinned. She pushed the door shut with her foot and helped him to the chair, then sat in the one next to him. Her chin in her hands, she regarded him thoughtfully.
