“He’s mine,” Rika said.
To Fargo’s surprise, Cud Sten didn’t object. “That’s my rifle you’re holding,” he mentioned.
“It’s mine, too.” Rika trained the Henry on him. “You’re welcome to try and take it back.”
Some of the others laughed.
Fargo simmered but did nothing. What
“Besides,” Cud said, “how do we know they’re really yours? They could belong to anybody.”
Rika had let go of the Ovaro’s reins, and just then the Ovaro came over to Fargo and nuzzled his leg. He rubbed its neck. “There, there, big fella. I’ve missed you, too.” He grinned at Cud.
“Don’t make a lick of difference. What we want, we take. Throw a rope over him, Rika, and bring him along.”
The sun was low to the horizon when they neared the stand that hid the cabin. Smoke from the chimney coiled above the trees like a gray snake.
Fargo braced for the worst. He promised himself that before he went down, he would bury the toothpick in Cud Sten. With their leader dead, the others might leave Mary be.
They wound through the trees and drew rein. The curtain over the window moved. Then the door opened and Mary came out, her arms around Nelly and Jayce. “Mr. Sten,” she said formally.
Fargo saw Jayce spot him and open his mouth but Mary’s fingers tightened on the boy’s shoulder and she whispered something. Jayce closed his mouth and looked away.
“It’s great to see you again, Mary gal,” Cud Sten blustered. “There hasn’t been a day gone by that I haven’t thought of you.”
“It must be my cooking.”
Cud laughed a lot louder than her quip called for. Alighting, he motioned with his club at the cows. “I brought you presents, gal. Six of them. You’re always saying as how you never have enough to eat. Now you’ll have plenty of milk for the sprouts. And if you want, my men will butcher one of these critters and smoke and dry the meat so you have enough to last you the whole winter.” Cud beamed at his own generosity. “How does that sound?”
“I can’t accept gifts from you, Mr. Sten.”
“Of course you can. We’re friends, ain’t we? And what are friends for if not to help one another out?”
Rika said, “Ask her about Tull.”
Cud glanced at him in some annoyance, but then said, “Got a question for you, Mary gal. I sent my man Tull on ahead to make sure you were all right. Did he ever show?”
“I haven’t seen Mr. Tull since the last time you paid us a visit.”
Cud fixed on her face, trying to read by her expression if she was telling the truth.
Fargo had to hand it to her; Mary would make a great poker player. Nelly, though, averted her gaze and nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Fargo couldn’t tell if Cud noticed.
Mary turned innocent eyes on him. “Isn’t this man riding Mr. Tull’s horse?”
“He sure is. He says he found Tull with an arrow in him and had to help himself to Tull’s because he lost his own.”
Mary gazed at the Ovaro. “And who does this fine animal belong to?”
“We found it along the way and Rika has taken a shine to him. But if you ask real nice, Rika might let you ride him.”
“I refuse to ask any favors of Mr. Rika.”
“Now, now, what has he ever done to you?” Cud smiled his warmest smile. “Enough of this standing around in the cold.” He pointed his club at Lear and another man. “You two see to the beeves. Put them in the corral. Since there ain’t room for the cows and our horses both, you’ll have to picket the horses. Tie the rope good and tight. If any of the horses get loose, I’ll have your hides. Bring our gear when you come in. The rest of you boys can come inside now.” He looked at Fargo. “You, too, stranger.”
The warmth of the cabin was a welcome relief. Fargo went over and sat on the floor by the fireplace, his legs bent, his hands close to the tops of his boots so he could get to the Arkansas toothpick quickly if he had to.
Cud and his men took seats at the table. Not Rika, though; he stood in a corner, the Henry cradled in his arms, as motionless as a statue.
Mary sent Nelly and Jayce into their room and told them to close the door. She stepped to the stove and put coffee on. “This is the last I have. I’m afraid you’ll have to do without once this is gone.”
“That’s what you think” Cud responded. “I brought you a bunch of vittles. Coffee. A bag of flour. Sugar. I even brought some of those lemon drops your sprouts like.”
“You spoil me,” Mary said drily.
“And you know why.”
“Please, Mr. Sten, I’ve asked you before not to make more of our relationship than there can ever possibly be. I haven’t been a widow all that long. I need more time to heal.”
“It’s been pretty near a year,” Cud growled. “If you ain’t healed by now, you ain’t never going to be.” He forced a smile. “What you need is another man so you can forget about—What was his name?”
“Frank,” Mary said softly.
“So you can forget about Frank and get on with your life. You need a man who doesn’t mind coming all this way to be with you. A man who brings you gifts and treats your sprouts decent.”
“They’re children, Mr. Sten, not plants. And you are referring to yourself, I take it.”
“I’ve made my interest plain. I’ve been awful patient with you because you’re special. But my patience has about run out. You need to make up your mind and you need to do it soon.”
Fargo caught the implied threat. So, too, he suspected, did Mary, but she didn’t let on.
When Lear and the other man came in with the saddlebags and bedrolls, Cud made a show of giving her the food he had brought.
“Whip us up some supper, why don’t you? I sure am hungry. In fact, I’ll have my men butcher one of the cows right this minute so we can have thick, juicy steaks. How would that be?”
“I don’t mind cooking for you,” Mary said in a tone that suggested she minded very much.
“Ain’t you a peach!” Cud barked orders for two of his men to do the butchering. He sat like some king holding court, and declared, “Yes, sir. This is the life. A roof over my head, a fine gal to cook a good meal, and my pards for company. What more can a man ask for?”
“I never took you for a homebody,” Lear said.
“You don’t know me very well. None of you do. I’ve got the same hankerings as most any man. I won’t do what I’m doing forever. One day I’ll want to hang up my six-gun and sit in a rocking chair and take life easy.” Cud gazed expansively about the room. “I can’t think of a better place to live out my days than right here.”
Fargo could guess why. There wasn’t any law for hundreds of miles. Plus, it was so deep into the Beartooth Mountains, no one would think to look for Cud there.
“How about a game?” a man suggested.
Cards were produced. Poker hands were dealt.
Fargo would have loved to sit in, but he wasn’t asked. The outlaws were ignoring him, which suited him fine.
Coincidentally, just then Cud glanced around. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, mister. I haven’t. After I’ve eaten and relaxed a spell, I’ll make up my mind what to do with you.”
Mary heard, and asked, “What do mean, Mr. Sten? What is it you have to decide?”
“Whether simpleton here lives or dies.”
13
Out behind the cabin a cow commenced to squall and low in terror and pain. The men sent to do the butchering were doing a poor job. It was supposed to be quick: Slit the cow’s throat so the cow bled out fast, and down it went. Either they didn’t cut deep enough or they were trying some other way, and the cow was in torment.
Nelly and Jayce ran out of their room, Nelly crying. “Ma? What are those awful sounds?”
