but they took it from me.”
“You took an awful chance.”
Past her were Nelly and Jayce, fear writ on their features.
“It won’t take them long to discover I’ve circled around,” Fargo said, hurrying inside. His saddle and saddle blanket were over against a wall. “I’ll get these and be gone before they show up.”
“You’re taking me with you.”
Fargo looked at her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Mary beamed.
“What about them?” Fargo demanded, with a sweep of his arm at her offspring.
“Need you even ask? Where I go, they go.” Mary wrung her hands and had difficulty saying, “It’s now or never. Cud is determined to have me. Before the ruckus began, he told me that he was spending the night in my bedroom. When I said that was up to me and not to him, he laughed in my face.”
“You have to help her, mister,” Jayce said.
“Please,” Nelly begged.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Fargo responded. “But just so you know, not one of us might make it out of the Beartooths alive.”
Nelly mustered a small smile. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Tell us how it will really be.”
“Gather up what food we can take,” Fargo directed. “Bundle up warm. I’ll saddle the horses.” He took a step, then glanced at Nelly and Jayce. “Can you two ride?”
“They’ve ridden before, but not a lot,” Mary answered. “Neither have I. But don’t worry. We’ll keep up.”
Fargo got their mounts ready and brought them around to the front of the cabin. He found where the outlaws were smoking the cow meat. The strips weren’t fully smoked, but they were better than empty bellies. He loaded as much as he swiftly could into saddlebags.
Mary and her children came out. They wore layers of clothes and had on coats and boots. Each had a bedroll. Mary’s doing, Fargo reckoned. He tied everything on, then boosted Nelly and Jayce onto the sorrel and Mary onto the dun. She reached inside her coat.
“I have something for you. Cud Sten left it on the table when he ran out to search for you.”
It was Fargo’s Colt. He could have kissed her. He checked that it was loaded and twirled it into his holster. Removing the other holster with the Remington, he held them out to Mary.
“I won’t be much good with it.” But she hurriedly strapped it on.
That reminded Fargo. “Where’s your rifle?”
“One of Sten’s men took it.”
Out beyond the stand, the torches were strung in a line—and that line was making for the cabin.
“Stay close.” Fargo’s saddle creaked under him. He reined in the opposite direction and threaded through the trees, keeping the cabin between them and the torches. Once out of the stand he had Mary come up on one side of him and the kids on the other. Together they struck out across the valley floor.
“There aren’t words to thank you in,” Mary said. “Most men wouldn’t do what you’re doing.”
“No one takes my rifle and my revolver and my horse and cracks me over the head,” Fargo said.
“Oh. So you’re not doing this because of me? You’re out for revenge.”
Some folks were of the opinion Fargo was a heartless bastard. But there were a number of things he couldn’t abide. One was mistreating a horse. That always got him good and mad. Another was seeing a woman or child hurt. The third was a card cheat. The fourth was any bartender who watered down his whiskey. And last—but at the top of the list—was being treated as Cud Sten had treated him. “It’s more than just revenge.”
“Thank you for that,” Mary said. “Since my Frank died—”
“You need to get over him.”
“I know. It’s been a year or better. I try but I just can’t. I was very much in love with him.”
“Dead is dead,” Fargo said.
“That was harsh. And you’d do well to remember that those we love often live on in our hearts.”
Fargo looked at her. In the starlight she looked gorgeous enough to eat. “I’ve lost a few people who were close to me. The best thing is to close the door and get on with your life.”
“I can’t ever close the door to Frank. The best I can do is leave it open but only go in now and again.”
She was quiet a while. Then she cleared her throat.
“Mind if I ask what your plans for us are?”
“To get you to a settlement. From there you can go anywhere you want.”
“You mean never come back? But our things. We don’t own much but I would like to keep what little we have.”
“I didn’t see a wagon anywhere.”
“Frank used most of the board for firewood. He didn’t ever plan to leave that place.”
“Poke your head in that door and tell him he was a jackass.”
On the other side of Fargo, Jayce said angrily, “Our pa was not, neither! Don’t call him names.”
Fargo was tempted to tell the boy that any man who brought his family out into the heart of Indian country, where there wasn’t another settler within hundreds of miles, a region so remote it was crawling with predators, both four-legged and two-legged—that man was in dire need of common sense. But all he said was, “When you’re older don’t do as he did.”
“Our pa loved us,” Nelly spoke up.
“He loved you so much, he’s reaching out from his grave to get you killed.”
“Enough, Skye,” Mary said. “They’re young. They wouldn’t understand. I do, and I forgive Frank his faults. For me it matters more that he was devoted to me and to them.”
“Some men are good at that.” Fargo doubted he was. He had too much wanderlust.
“A person never knows until they try it.”
Fargo let it drop. He shifted in the saddle.
The fireflies were at the cabin.
Mary did as he was doing. “Will they come after us, you think, or wait until daylight?”
“It depends on how mad Sten is.”
“He was terrible mad. He beat the man who tied you, Howell. He said Howell hadn’t done it good enough. I thought for a minute Cud would beat him to death.”
Jayce said, “I hate Cud Sten.”
“Now, now, son.”
“I do, Ma. I know you said it’s not nice to hate but I can’t help it. I hate him and those mean men with him. I wish they were all dead.”
“Me, too,” Nelly said.
A gust of wind chilled Fargo’s face. It was going to be a long night. Mary and the kids would be worn-out by dawn, and the worst was yet to come.
“Oh, look!” Mary burst out. “One of them is coming after us.”
A single torch was winding through the stand.
“Why only one?” Nelly wondered.
Fargo knew why. Because that one was the best tracker, and the deadliest of the bunch.
Rika was on their trail.
16
It was the middle of the morning. The air had turned bitterly cold and the cold helped Fargo stay alert. The kids, though, were dozing in the saddle, and Jayce had nearly fallen off twice.
Mary stifled a yawn. “Goodness, I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“We can’t stop yet.”
They were past the point where Fargo had first spotted the outlaws. Snowy slopes climbed toward the distant sky. High above, white peaks loomed against the blue.
“There’s no sign of anyone after us,” Mary mentioned. “Shouldn’t he have caught up by now?”
