“Where will you go from here?” Fargo asked between mouthfuls. “With that money you can start a whole new life.”
“Go? We don’t have a horse, remember? Let alone three.”
“Cud Sten does. I’m sure he and his men have lots of horses. Enough for all of you and for pack animals to take out your pots and pans and whatnot.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not if you’re only doing it for me. I don’t want you hurt on my account.”
Fargo grinned a lopsided grin. “You can’t take all the credit. There’re the kids.”
Mary looked into his eyes. “What kind of man are you?”
“The kind who needs a lot of sleep.” Fargo’s belly was about fit to explode and his eyelids had grown heavy.
“No. Really. I’d like to know.”
“Hell.” Fargo sat back. “I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like every other man.”
Mary coughed, then said softly, “Thank you.”
“Thank me in three or four days. This Cud Sten could turn out to be as tough as you say.”
“He is. And he’s got a man with him who is downright scary. Rika, they call him.” Mary paused. “I was thinking we would hide you.”
“Like you did with Tull?”
“Off in the trees. We could make you a lean-to.”
“No.”
“You can die, you know. Everyone will.”
“We start dying the moment we’re born. A couple days from now or a couple years, it all ends the same.” The important thing to Fargo was that she and her kids weren’t caught in a hail of lead.
“You worry me. You worry me considerably.”
“Good,” Fargo said, and grinned.
8
Fargo slept eighteen hours, and when he woke up, he was famished. He no sooner sat up than Mary entered the bedroom, smiling, and informed him she had a surprise. He thought it was the pile of clothes she had placed by the bed for him to pick from.
His buckskins had been ripped and torn in so many places that until he got the spare set out of his saddlebags or made new ones, he had to make do with a shirt and pants that belonged to her husband. Neither fit well. The pants, in particular, were too short, and too tight at the crotch. His manhood stood out as if sculpted, which made him grin.
His boots were okay to wear, and his gun belt was fine. The pearl-handled Colt fit nicely. Since it was the same caliber as his, he had plenty of ammunition. The Arkansas toothpick as always, went in his ankle sheath.
He had lost his hat somewhere so he put on a floppy one Frank Harper had used. It made him look so ridiculous that he decided to go without a hat.
Fargo stared at his image in the mirror and shook his head in amusement. He looked like he should be huddled in an alley, a wine bottle glued to his lips. His left arm and right leg were stiff from the bites, but the more he moved them, the better he felt. He practiced drawing the Colt a few times and slicked it as quick as could be.
Fargo went into the main room. There was the real surprise. Delicious aromas brought a roar from his stomach.
Two candles were on the table. Mary had set out her best plates, with a fork and a spoon beside each. A cup and saucer sat by the plate at the head of the table. She was cooking and humming, wearing what had to be the best dress she owned. Nelly and Jayce were over near the hearth, staring at her as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.
“Are you hungry?” Mary asked.
“I could eat those wolves raw,” Fargo said.
“No need for that.” Mary brought the coffeepot over. “Permit me.” She held out the chair for him, and after he sat, she filled the cup with steaming-hot coffee. “Courtesy of the late and never to be lamented Tull Fitch.”
“Oh?”
“I went through his saddlebags and found coffee and flour and cornmeal and a few other things. Not a lot, but it will do us.” Beaming, Mary beckoned. “Children, why don’t you have a seat?”
They came over slowly, as if afraid the table would bite them, and sat staring at Fargo as if afraid he might bite them, too.
“Something the matter?” Fargo asked.
Nelly leaned closer and whispered, “What did you do to our ma?”
“I thanked her for the use of your pa’s clothes.”
Jayce fidgeted and regarded his mother with unease. “She’s been acting different ever since she tucked you in.”
“Different how?”
“Nice.”
Fargo chuckled. “It could be she’s just happy that Tull won’t bother her anymore.”
“She’s happy about something but it’s not that.”
Mary placed a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table. She had also made flapjacks and johnnycakes. There was a plate of toast, smeared lightly in jam. For meat they had the leftover chicken. And for dessert, she informed them, there were iced pastries.
Jayce’s eyes were wide with amazement. “We haven’t ate this good since I can remember.”
“When we get to a town and I find work, there will be more meals like this. Now dig in and help yourselves.”
Fargo wolfed down the eggs. He didn’t realize that he was the only one eating them until he was almost done. Then he noticed that they had all taken small portions of everything, leaving the lion’s share for him. He put down his fork and sat back. “You have to be hungrier than that.”
Mary was about to take a bite of toast. “Believe me, for us this is a feast.”
“I’m no hog.”
“You need to regain your strength.” Mary smiled. “And it’s my small way of saying thank you.”
Fargo turned to the kids. “Help yourselves to more. If you don’t, I won’t take another bite.”
“But Ma said—”
“Hush, son.” Fargo reached across and put a slice of toast and a johnnycake on each of their plates.
“I have died and gone to heaven,” Jayce said.
As the kids ate, now and then one or the other would close their eyes and make small sounds of pleasure. Mary, too, had a look of serene contentment.
Fargo could only begin to guess how rare this must have been. They were worse off than he thought. Toward the end of the meal, after Mary brought over the iced pastries, he asked something he had been wondering about. “Of all the places you could live, why did you and your husband pick here?”
“It was Frank’s doing,” Mary answered. “He wanted to get away from people. He wanted somewhere we could live in peace.”
“The middle of the Beartooth Mountains?” Fargo never ceased to marvel at the ridiculous things people did.
A sheepish look came over her. “You have to understand. My Frank was very much his own man. He liked doing things his way. And he took great pride in being able to provide for us all by his lonesome.”
Fargo gazed about the spare room and at their threadbare clothes. He almost asked,
Mary had more to say. “Frank was a loner. I knew that when I married him, and I accepted it. No one is
