Black Hills Badman

“I have over twenty thousand dollars in the bank. How much do you have?”

Fargo made a zero of his thumb and forefinger. “All this money you’ve saved, was it worth it?”

Rebecca bowed her head and slowly shook it. “No. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t. Back then I thought money was everything. Now I know better. You can’t put a price on happiness.”

Fargo stared at their tent. An hour ago he wouldn’t have said what he was about to say now. “Do you still want me to do you?”

“What? Oh. I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely, but yes. Please. That is, if you want to.”

“You wear a dress, don’t you?”

“Why do you sound so mad? And why are you agreeing? Because you want to? Or to spite my poor excuse for a husband?”

“Does it matter?” Fargo stretched out his legs. “Wait until him and the brat are asleep and slip out. I’ll be waiting, and when I see you, we’ll go off into the woods.”

“Just the two of us? In the dark?”

“What did you expect? We’d take Owen or one of the others along to stand guard while I poke you?”

“Mad and bitter. You have a low tolerance for fools, don’t you? I used to before I became one myself.”

Rebecca rose and went about cooking stew for her husband and her stepdaughter. Over at the other fire, Lichen was butchering a doe someone had shot while Fargo was gone.

For Fargo’s part, he drank coffee and fumed. If it wasn’t for Rebecca, he would light a shuck then and there. He felt a twinge of conscience about Gerty. The girl was the spitting image of her father but she was young yet and didn’t know any better. Give her a few years and she might mature. Not that she would live to see old age. Not with an army of Sioux roaming the hills. She wasn’t quite old enough to make a good wife so the Lakotas were likely to leave her to die of thirst or hunger. Or maybe, if she was lucky, they’d take her under their wing.

Fargo was on his third cup of coffee when Owen came up to the fire, squatted, and smiled.

“What the hell do you want?”

“The girl is right. You are a grump.”

“Go to hell. And leave me be.”

“I didn’t walk over here to swap insults. I wanted to talk to you about the Sioux.”

“We’ve already talked. Maybe you don’t recollect, but you persuaded Keever to go on with his hunt. Nice going, buffalo shit for brains.”

Owen laughed. “If you were female, I’d swear it was your time of the month.”

“If I was a female, I’d swear you were as ugly as sin.”

Again Owen laughed but his mirth was forced. “Look, I’m trying to avoid an argument.”

“Then you came to the wrong place.” Fargo bent toward him and nearly hurled the coffee in his face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I wasn’t exaggerating. In a few days these hills will be swarming with Sioux. More of them than you can imagine.”

“I believe you.”

“There’s no way in hell we can keep hidden. They’ll find us, and when they do, every last one of us will be turned into a pincushion.”

“I agree.”

“Then why didn’t you side with me and tell the good senator to leave while he still can?” Fargo shook his head. “I swear. You make no damn sense at all.”

“I do to me.”

Fargo used a few choice words common in saloons and riverfront dives. “Explain it. Help me to savvy why you’re so bent on getting Keever and his family killed.”

“I’m not. He is. I’m just doing what he pays me to do.” Owen picked up a stick and poked at the flames. “You were hired as their guide. I was hired to advise him. He sat me down and told me exactly what he wants out of this hunt of his and offered me five hundred dollars more than any of the others to make sure he gets his wish.”

“This was before we started out?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Some folks don’t think as poorly of me as you do.”

“I heard about that dog you dragged to its death.”

“Oh, hell. Did you also hear tell it was going around biting horses? Caused one to spook and throw a man.”

“So you’re a saint now.”

“Hell, no. I’m a man doing a job. Same as you. And need I remind you that I saved your hash back at the bluff?”

“You came over just to tell me all this?” God, what Fargo wouldn’t give for a whiskey.

“No. I came over to say that if you want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you. But I hope you stick around. There’s the senator’s missus and the girl to think of.”

“Now I’ve heard everything. A saint and a heart of gold. Next you’ll sprout wings and a halo.”

Owen frowned. “You try to be nice to some folks.” He stood. “Have it your way. If you want to stay, stay. Just do the rest of us a favor and don’t air your bladder about the Sioux.” Wheeling, he walked away.

Fargo scratched his head in mild bewilderment. Nothing added up. No one was as they seemed except for Gerty, who looked like a spoiled brat and acted like a spoiled brat. Rebecca played the part of the devoted wife but she was anything but. As for Senator Keever, he was supposed to be a conscientious public servant who never put his own interests first, but that was all he ever did. “It’s a damn ridiculous world.”

Supper was served. Fargo kept to himself, sipping coffee. After the meal everyone sat around relaxing. Then one by one they turned in. The wind picked up, the stars shifted, and presently everyone was asleep except the two night sentries.

And Fargo. From under his hat brim he watched the tent. He was on his side, his blankets up to his chin. He wondered if Rebecca would go through with it. She stood to lose all the money Keever was paying her if he found out she was playing around on him. But then again, maybe Keever didn’t expect her to be a nun, or just didn’t care.

Midnight came and went and Fargo had about given it up as a lost cause when the tent flap parted and Rebecca poked her head out. She glanced toward the sentries, then quietly opened the flap and quickly slipped off into the shroud of darkness. A blue silken robe clung to her shapely form like skin.

The sight of it sparked a hunger in Fargo to see more. Rolling onto his back, Fargo mumbled as might a man in his sleep. He saw both sentries over by the horse string, talking. Slowly easing from under his blanket, he slid his saddlebags underneath and fluffed the blanket to lend the illusion he was still under it. Then he removed his hat and placed it where his head would be. It wouldn’t stand close scrutiny but he counted on the sentries not paying much attention to the sleepers.

Crabbing backward until he was mantled in ink, Fargo rose and moved beyond the ring of firelight. A shadow separated from deeper shadows, and suddenly Rebecca was clinging to him, her cheek on his shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” Fargo whispered.

Rebecca looked up, her face pale and lovely in the starlight. “I was scared. I’m not used to the wilds like you are.”

“What were you scared of?”

“I kept hearing sounds.”

Fargo heard sounds, too: coyotes, wolves, owls, the bleat of a doe, the snarl of a mountain lion. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not afraid now that you’re here.” Rebecca hesitated. “But you don’t think any Sioux are around, do you?”

“No.”

“That’s a relief. I don’t mind admitting they terrify me. I would hate to end up in some buck’s lodge.”

To shut her up Fargo kissed her, mashing his lips against hers. She tasted like cherries with a hint of mint. The fragrance she had splashed on was intoxicating.

“Oh, my,” Rebecca whispered when he broke for breath. “But must you be so rough?”

Fargo grinned. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”