gal couldn’t hit the broad side of a bank if she was standing next to it.”
Mary shouted, “Step out in the open and try me. I might surprise you.”
“You’ve surprised me enough as it is. Taking up with another man while I was away. Running out on me. I used to admire you for being a lady but now—” Cud stopped.
“Now you want me dead. All that talk of how much you admired me, when all you really wanted was to get up under my dress.” Mary recoiled and put a hand to her cheek. “Oh, my. I did it again. The children will think I’m a hussy.”
“You have me all wrong, gal. I figured to make you mine and treat you right. I’d bring you presents now and then, like I brought those cows. Maybe fetch you a new dress. And all you had to do, when the law was breathing down my neck, was let me lie low at your cabin. Yes, sir, I had it all worked out.”
“That’s all I ever was to you. A convenience. A place to hide and a bed to sleep in.”
“Give me more credit. You were all of those but you were more. I never had a real lady before. Only saloon gals.”
“You’re despicable.” Silence fell on the forest.
Fargo wondered what Sten’s next move would be. Charging the stand wasn’t the answer. Sten had to come up with something else, and he was devious enough to come up with something that might take them unawares.
Mary was staring at Fargo. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you came along when you did. You saved me from that pig.”
“Not yet I haven’t.” Fargo didn’t take his eyes off the tree line. He looked for patches of color against the white.
“It won’t be dark for hours yet,” Mary said, squinting up at the sun. “We’ll be safe until then, won’t we?”
“We won’t be safe until Sten is dead.”
Mary turned and gazed into the lodgepoles. “Do you mind if I check on Jayce and Nelly? I won’t be long. They must be scared, and I need to let them know everything is all right.”
“Off you go.” Fargo rested his chin on his forearm. He was cold lying there, and he imagined Sten and his killers were cold, too. Extra cause for them to end it quickly.
A hat poked from behind a pine. Fargo aimed but the head wearing the hat ducked back.
“Mary, you still there?” Sten called.
“She’s busy,” Fargo shouted.
“Ah. The simpleton speaks. What’s she doing, cooking your supper?”
Fargo kept the Henry trained on where the head had appeared. All it would take was a twitch of his finger.
“Simpleton?” Cud Sten shouted.
Fargo waited, with no intention of answering.
“Tell me something. What happened to Rika? That was his horse one of you was riding, wasn’t it? You were too far off for me to be sure.”
“It’s his horse,” Fargo confirmed.
“He’s dead, isn’t he? Who was it? You? Had to be. Mary never harmed a soul her whole life. She told me so.”
Fargo saw no need to enlighten him.
“You must be good, mister, to have done in Rika. He was one of the best. He hardly ever made a mistake. All the years we rode together, I can count them on one hand and have fingers left over.”
Fargo grew suspicious. Sten was talking too much.
“How did you do it, mister? Did you take him by surprise somehow? Did you trick him?”
Movement out of the corner of his eye warned Fargo that Sten’s men were trying to flank him. One of them was crawling toward the stand from off to the left. Or maybe burrowing was a better word. The man was digging through the snow like an oversized rodent, and gave himself away when the top of his hat jutted up.
Fargo swiveled and fixed a bead, but the hat had disappeared. He aimed a few feet in front of where he saw it, counted off five seconds to give the man time to reach the spot where he was aiming, and fired. Nothing happened. He levered in another round and fired again.
Up bolted Howell. With remarkable speed he raced back toward the forest, weaving so it would be harder to hit him.
Fargo watched Howell’s legs and nothing else, and when they zagged where he expected them to, he stroked the trigger and had the satisfaction of hearing Howell yelp in pain and seeing him fall. But in another instant Howell was up and leaping like mad on one leg. Fargo fixed another bead, but before he could shoot, Howell gained cover.
Cud Sten wasn’t pleased. “Damn it, Howell. Can’t you do anything right? Did you have to go and get shot?”
From behind the tree Howell had dived behind came his pain-laced reply. “I tried, didn’t I? Just as you wanted. And now I’ve got a hole in me.”
“How bad is it?”
“I can still do what I have to, if that’s what you’re worried about. The bullet went clean through and it’s not bleeding much.”
“We’ll bandage you when we’re done here.”
Fargo congratulated himself. Sten had kept him talking so that Howell could sneak up on him, and he had spoiled their little scheme. Then it occurred to him that they were much too casual about it, especially Sten.
“A man just can’t find good help these days,” Cud shouted across to him. “That’s why I miss Rika so much.”
Fargo sought some sign of the other two. They had to be there somewhere.
“I’ve got my club with me,” Cud gabbed on. “Remember my club, mister? You’ll remember it real well when I start breaking bones.”
One of the others showed himself for a split second when he darted from one tree to another.
Now Fargo had accounted for three of them. But where was the fourth?
“I like to break bones. I like to hear them snap, hear the crack of an arm or the pop of an elbow. Knees now—they sort of crunch. Some say the knees hurt the worst, and I believe it. You should hear how they carry on. A woman one time, I broke one of her knees, just one, and she shrieked and flopped about like a fish out of water for a good hour or more. Then there was the old man I did once. I hanged him by his wrists from a tree and started at his toes and worked up his body. And do you know what? He didn’t scream until I got to his knees.”
Fargo was puzzled by why Sten was telling him all this. He was puzzled, too, that Mary was taking so long. He twisted around, and there they were: Mary and Nelly and Jayce, the children pressed to her in fear. Behind them, holding a revolver to Mary’s head, was Lear.
“I’d let go of that rifle if I were you, mister. Or would your rather have me splatter her brains?”
Mary said quickly, “Don’t do it, Skye. Not on my account.”
Fargo set the Henry down and it sank an inch into the snow. He slowly elevated his hands.
Lear chortled. “That was right noble of you. I wouldn’t have done it, but then I don’t give a good damn about anybody but me.” He tilted his head. “Cud! It worked! I’ve got them covered! Get over here!”
“I’m sorry,” Mary said to Fargo. “He snuck up on us. I was going to shout to warn you, but he said he’d shoot Nelly and Jayce if I didn’t do exactly as he told me.”
“Shut up,” Lear barked, and rapped her above the ear.
Mary cried out and nearly collapsed. She stared to raise a hand to her head, and he hit her on the elbow.
“Did I say you can move?”
Tears welled in Jayce’s eyes. He balled his fists and shook one at Lear. “Leave my ma be!”
“Or what, boy? You’ll cry me to death?”
Nelly gripped her brother’s shoulders to keep him from hurling himself at Lear. “No, Jayce. He’ll hurt us if we do anything.”
“That I will, girl. At least one of you has brains.” Lear grinned. He was relishing the torment he caused.
Feet crunched in the snow.
