didn’t press charges.
Fargo was surprised Senator Keever had hired Owen. When he asked why, the senator shrugged and remarked that he needed men with experience, and there was no denying Owen knew the plains and mountains as well as any man alive, Fargo included.
“Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to ask Father to get rid of you.”
“Be my guest.” Fargo spied the ribbon of trees that bordered the stream they had camped by. “I’d be happy to be shed of you.”
“You would? Then I won’t ask him. I don’t want to do anything that will make you happy.”
A tent had been pitched. The horses were in a string. A fire crackled, and the aroma of coffee filled the clearing. In addition to the senator and his wife and daughter, there were eleven men in the hunting party.
Rebecca Keever was pacing in front of the tent. The instant she saw Fargo and Gerty, she rushed to meet them, her dress clinging to her willowy legs. She had thick auburn hair and an oval face with high cheekbones and deep blue eyes. Her lips were small but full, and they parted now in a smile of relief. “You found her! Thank God.”
Fargo reined up. Gripping Gerty’s wrist, he swung her down before she had a chance to squawk or resist. “Here. Take her.”
Rebecca held her daughter to her bosom. “Thank God. Don’t ever wander off like that again. You had me worried sick.”
“Don’t you mean
Senator Fulton Keever was an imposing figure. Six and a half feet tall in his bare feet, he favored expensive clothes and boots with high heels so that he seemed even taller. Although only in his forties, he had hair as white as snow. His face was broad and handsome. He carried himself with dignity, his shoulders always squared, his carriage erect. Now he came up and held out his arms and his wife handed Gerty to him. “How’s my precious?”
Gerty beamed in delight, and hugged him. “I’ve had the most awful time.”
“You’re lucky Mr. Fargo was able to find you.”
“It was him that made it awful. I didn’t want to come back but he made me.”
“He was doing his job.”
“But he called me names and threatened to hit me.” Gerty smacked her father on the shoulder. “Do something. Punish him. Have him whipped or something.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” Senator Keever said. “I’d be voted out of office at the next election.”
“You won’t have him beaten for me?” Gerty let her resentment show. “I bet you’re scared. He wears a gun and you don’t so you won’t do anything to make him mad.”
“Gertrude!” Rebecca exclaimed.
“What else can it be?” Gerty said coldly. “Father always does what I ask.
Rebecca recoiled as if she had been slapped. “Gertrude Priscilla Keever, that will be enough. I’m your mother and you will treat me with the respect I deserve.”
“There are mothers and there are mothers.”
Fargo wondered what she meant by that. Were she his kid, he’d introduce her backside to his belt. Some people claimed that was crude and uncivilized, something “only a heathen Indian would do,” as one man put it. Ironically, most Indians never hit their children. They believed it did lasting harm.
“Think you’re funny, do you?” Rebecca was saying. “Well, I don’t. For running off like that, you’ll help the cook wash dishes the next three days. And you will be under your blankets by ten at night.”
Gerty pressed against her father. “Wash dishes? Me? I’ve never washed a dish in my life.”
“Fulton, tell her,” Rebecca said.
“Ahh, now.” Senator Keever pecked Gerty on the forehead and lowered her to the ground. “I don’t think we have to go quite that far.”
“What?”
“You heard me, my dear. She’s young yet. Children her age like to explore. Yes, she strayed too far, and yes, Mr. Fargo had to go find her. But really, now. Must we punish the girl for acting her age? I say no. I say we should be thankful she’s safe, and let it go.”
The hurt in Rebecca’s eyes said more than words ever could.
Senator Keever patted Gerty on the head. “There now. All’s well that ends well. Why don’t you run along and play and we’ll call you when supper is ready?”
Gerty pointed at Fargo. “What about him?”
“I’ve already said I’m not having him whipped. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. When we return to civilization, I’ll buy you whatever your little heart desires. A new dress, a new hat, a new pony since you’re no longer fond of your old one. How does that sound?”
“I guess that’s all right,” Gerty said reluctantly.
They walked off and Fargo turned to tend to the Ovaro.
“Wait,” Rebecca said, coming closer. “I want to thank you for what you did. How you found her so fast, I’ll never know.”
“I was lucky.”
Rebecca had a lovely smile. “You’re much too modest. My husband might not appreciate you but I do.”
Fargo wondered how he should take that.
Gazing after Fulton and Gerty, Rebecca sighed. “I try to rear her right. I truly do. But you saw how he is. He spoils her. He spoils her terribly. Anything she wants, all she has to do is say so. It’s been like that since she learned to talk.”
Fargo was puzzled by why she was telling him this. “Your family squabbles are none of my concern, ma’am.”
“True. But in this instance it’s more than a squabble. You’ve made an enemy, Mr. Fargo.”
“You’ll pardon me if I don’t tremble in my boots.”
“Don’t take her lightly, I warn you. She’s a shark, that one. And she never forgets or forgives a slight.”
“She’s thirteen years old.”
“So? Just because she’s a child doesn’t mean she won’t figure out a way to get back at you.” Rebecca leaned so close she was practically breathing on his neck. “Let me tell you a story. Back home we had a gardener, a most wonderful man. Kindly. Thoughtful. You couldn’t ask for better. One day he caught Gerty cutting some of my roses. She had found his shears.”
Fargo had little interest in her tale but he patiently waited for her to finish while roving his gaze from her neck to her toes, admiring her full bosom and the sweep of her thighs.
“He took them from her and scolded her, and do you know what she did? She kicked him in the shins. Without thinking, he slapped her.” Rebecca was whispering now. “Gerty ran to Fulton and had the poor man fired.”
“She’s a firebrand,” Fargo said dryly.
“There’s more. The gardener was devastated. He’d worked for us for years. He begged to keep his job. He pleaded. Fulton might have given in if not for Gerty.”
“And?” Fargo prompted when she didn’t go on.
“The gardener went to collect his things. Everyone thought he left the estate. But the next morning a maid found him out by the roses with the pruning shears sticking out of his chest.”
Fargo looked at her. “How did it happen?”
“It was ruled an accident. That he tripped and fell on the shears as he was about to hang them on a nail. But between you and me, that just won’t wash. He was always careful with his tools.”
“Are you saying Gerty did it?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Someone did. No one else had a motive. So watch your back from here on out. Watch it very closely.”
