Fargo veered off the trail and took the Ovaro up a ridge, moving slowly and carefully, following game trails that ran along the valley sides.
An hour later he found what he was looking for. Near where the canyon turned into a box canyon against three steep walls of rocks, a wisp of smoke from a fire drifted above the trees.
From that camp there was only one way out. It was a camp that was easy to defend from attack, but it also made Fargo’s job a lot easier. He had them trapped like rats in a water barrel.
He left his horse in a safe place, then with his heavy carbine in hand, he scouted the area around the camp.
There looked to be three men in the camp. Daniel was not one of the men. Fargo had been right that it had been Daniel who had gone into Sacramento. Fargo just hoped the marshal and his men could find him and protect the stupid kid.
At the moment the men were standing around the campfire, drinking coffee. Cain’s wagon sat near where they had tied the horses, and it was still loaded with the gold. Clearly, this was just a stopover point until someone told them what to do with their loot.
They realized too late that they’d been joined by a fierce-looking man with a Henry and a real unfriendly voice.
One of the men started to go for his gun but his friend said, “Don’t be stupid, Dave.”
“I want the guns pitched as far as you can throw ’em. Then I want your boots off and I want you to toss them too. Far as they’ll go.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Nobody important. But you killed somebody important, at least to me. So just be thankful I don’t shoot you bastards down right here and now.”
The harsh words made them move quicker. They bitched and moaned of course—it was humiliating, throwing away your guns and boots—but they did it.
When that was done, Fargo said, “Now hitch up the horses. I’m taking the wagon.”
“They’ll think we took it,” one of them complained.
“I’d say that’s your problem, not mine. Now get it done.”
A mile beyond where the men had camped, Fargo found a place to pull the wagon off into some cover behind some rocks so it couldn’t be seen from the trail. He tied up the horses and then went back for his own horse.
He tied the Ovaro to the rear of the wagon. When he got back to the main trail, instead of turning back north, he went south away from Sacramento. It would be a good ten miles out of the way to circle around and back into town that way, but that was better than taking a chance of meeting any of the Brant men coming for the gold.
Right now it was better to let Brant and his people think that his men had been robbed of the ore they had robbed from Cain. It might give Daniel another day of life.
Maybe.
He got the gold into the bank before it closed and then told Marshal Davis where he could find the robbers. So far, the marshal had had no luck finding Daniel, but as he said, most of his men didn’t know what Cain’s son looked like.
“We’ll find him,” Fargo said. He thanked the marshaland then headed to where Cain’s two men should be waiting for him.
He found them both sitting in the Mine Shaft Saloon at a corner table, their backs to the wall. They both had drinks in front of them, but it was clear they were too worried to drink much. A deck of cards lay on the table between them, but no cards were dealt.
One was a solid middle-aged man with a wide mustache. His name was Jim. The other was Walt. From this angle, he looked like he could bend a railroad spike with his bare hands. Cain had told Fargo that both men were good in a fight and both had ridden the range at times. Fargo had a good feeling about them.
As Fargo entered the run-down saloon, both had their hats pulled low over their eyes. But when they recognized him, they jumped up and pushed their hats back, smiling. Patience and waiting were clearly not their strong suits.
“How ya doin’?” Jim asked as Fargo approached the table.
“Are we going after them?” Walt asked.
“Doing fine,” Fargo said, indicating that the men should follow him out to the street. “Doctor said I would live. And I already took care of the robbers and Cain’s gold is delivered and where it belongs.”
“Fargo, the stories they tell about you don’t go anywhere near far enough,” Jim said, shaking his head.
Fargo didn’t want to ask just what tales Jim had heard.
“Damn,” Walt said. “We missed all the fun.”
“I have a feeling the fun is just beginning,” Fargo said. “If you call men getting shot
“If the man deserves to be shot, yeah I do,” Walt said.
Fargo glanced at the strong kid and said nothing.
“Any news about Cain?” Jim asked.
“Nothing,” Fargo said. “We’ll find out soon enough. Right now we have to find Daniel.”
“He was part of the bunch that robbed us and shot his father,” Walt said, his words showing his disgust and anger. “I couldn’t believe it, but he was. I had a clear shot at him and didn’t take it. Wish I had now.”
“I had a clear shot as well,” Fargo said. “Daniel may have had reasons for what he did, or maybe he was duped by Sarah Brant. We have to find him and find out. He’s in town somewhere. Or at least he was yesterday.”
“I’ve heard stories about that Brant woman,” Jim said as they reached the sidewalk and Fargo led them toward the center of town. “They say her mother left because of her.”
“I was warned to stay out of her clutches because she liked to cut off men’s privates,” Walt said, shuddering. “But everyone says she’s a looker.”
“I met her once,” Fargo said. “And I don’t doubt either story. And if Daniel was wrapped up in her charms, there’s no telling what he would have done for her. But right now we’ve got to find him.”
“Mind if I pound some sense into him if I find him?” Jim asked.
“Yes, I do mind,” Fargo said. “You find him, either of you, and you come and get me. My gut tells me this kid is in danger. We have to find him before they do, now that they think his father is dead.”
“I sure hope he’s not,” Walt said.
Fargo couldn’t do anything but agree with that. He wasn’t letting himself think about Cain dying.
When Fargo reached a general store close to the center of town, he told Walt to go south along Main, checking out every hotel and saloon. “Ask the desk clerks if Daniel Parker has checked in.”
Fargo sent Jim north doing the same thing.
“I’m going to check some of the brothels,” Fargo said.
“You get all the good jobs,” Walt said, smiling.
“Just had more experience in those places,” Fargo said. “We meet right back here in an hour. And remember, don’t let him see you if you can help it. Just come and find me. Don’t do anything to spook him.”
Both men nodded. Fargo left first. Before Walt and Jim separated, Walt said, “Not everybody’s gonna believe us.”
“Believe us about what?” Jim said.
“Working with Fargo. The Trailsman.”
Jim laughed. “You’re probably right. I met a newspaperman once—he told me he didn’t think that Fargo even existed.”
“I’ll bet some of it’s exaggerated, though,” Walt said.
“Some is. But not by Fargo. People just like to have heroes and they make up things about them.”
“One thing I heard was that he fought two black bears at a time.”
Jim laughed. “I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen.”
“Another thing I heard was that down in Louisiana he killed an alligator with his bare hands.”
“Now that one I know is true. Met a man who actually saw it.”
“But he ain’t—I mean, he could still be killed.”
“Sure he could. Just like us.”
