“He’s prob’ly been up against tougher men than Brant before.”
“Tougher, maybe. But not any greedier.”
Walt nodded agreement and the men went on their separate ways.
After three times out and back, none of them had had any luck, so Fargo bought them all lavish steak-and- potato dinners. If Cain lived, he wouldn’t mind feeding the men who were trying to save his son. And if he didn’t live, he wouldn’t care that Fargo had spent his money.
In the three hours, Fargo had personally visited more than a dozen brothels, been propositioned by a dozen women, and been tossed out of one house by a madam who knew him from Denver. He had helped one of her girls get away from her to marry a grocer who was headed west. It seemed the madam still held a grudge and could handle a very large Colt.
Both Walt and Jim complained about their feet hurting and how they hadn’t realized just how big Sacramento had become. Fargo was surprised at that as well. He’d always thought of Sacramento as a bustling but fairly small city.
After dinner they headed back out.
Two hours later Fargo found Daniel sitting in the front parlor of a brothel. He was drunk, so drunk that he could hardly move. It was clear he had been flashing money around like he had more than enough of it. And Daniel’s money was like honey to the girls, who took turns sitting on his lap, kissing him, giving him more drinks, and relieving him of his money.
Fargo walked into the parlor and pushed one girl gently aside before yanking Daniel to his feet. “You’re coming with me, kid.”
“Hey,” protested the madam, a large woman with enormous breasts that seemed to want to escape from her low-cut sheer robe in a thousand different directions. “You can’t go taking my customers.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, trying to pull away from Fargo’s grasp. “Who are you anyway?”
“I work for your father,” Fargo said, then solidly punched Daniel square in the nose, sending blood gushing and the kid slumping, out cold. More than likely he hit the kid a little harder than he needed to, but he was still damn angry at Daniel.
Fargo held Daniel up and fished for the kid’s money, tossing the entire wad of bills to the madam. “Sorry for the mess and the problem,” Fargo said. “The kid’s now broke.”
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the madam said as the bills vanished into the massive canyon that was her cleavage.
Fargo tossed Daniel up over his good shoulder and went out the door held open by one of the girls, ignoring the looks from passersby as he headed back to where he was to meet Jim and Walt.
He propped Daniel up on a bench and wiped some of the blood from his face while he waited. The kid was still out cold and likely would be until he slept off all the booze.
Fargo sat down beside the kid, watching everyone on the street. It had been a long day and the wounds in his shoulder were aching again. He could use a good night’s sleep as well.
When Walt and Jim finally arrived, Fargo had Walt carry Daniel back to the Mine Shaft Saloon. The hotel attached to the saloon was where they had stayed and left their gear, expecting to return tonight. They put Daniel on the floor in their room and tied him securely to the large metal-framed bed.
Fargo got his own room, then went back to see if the kid was awake yet. It was no surprise that he wasn’t.
“Take turns guarding him. And make sure he doesn’t get away. He’s got a lot of talking to do tomorrow. I’m in the room next door.”
For the second night, the moment Fargo lay down on the bed he was out like someone had snuffed a candle. The rays of the sun the next morning woke him.
This morning his shoulder felt a little better. He checked under one bandage and then pulled it off. The doc had stitched both wounds and they looked like they were healing just fine. He started to put on his shirt when he realized the heavy stitches would catch on the cloth. He quickly taped the bandage back on. Maybe a couple more days and he could again wear a shirt without it. Maybe.
The room next door sounded like a factory going full tilt. All three men were snoring like it was a competition to see who could be the loudest. And to be honest, Fargo couldn’t tell.
Walt was in the chair, his pistol on his lap. Jim was on the bed, and Daniel was still tied up on the floor.
Fargo moved silently just inside the door and then slammed it behind him.
Walt came out of the chair, sending his gun spinning across the floor.
Jim jerked and rolled off the bed on the window side, coming up a moment later with his gun in his hand.
Daniel jerked upward and then was slammed back against the floor by the ropes holding him.
Fargo forced himself not to smile. “Good morning. I hope everyone slept well. I know I did.”
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Walt sheepishly moved to get his gun and Jim stood up, holstering his.
“Oh, my head hurts,” Daniel said, moaning. “And my nose. You broke my nose. And if someone doesn’t find me a bedpan or an outhouse real soon, there’s going to be a mess right here on the floor.” Then he looked at Fargo with sober recognition. “Now I recognize you from last night. You’re Fargo.”
“Untie him,” Fargo said, “and we’ll all take him out back just to make sure one of us stays awake.”
As Walt leaned over to untie him, Daniel recognized him too. Then he glanced over and recognized Jim. The kid who had been trying to show a strong face against the hangover and likely kidnappers suddenly broke down and cried like a girl.
“I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” he kept saying through the sobs.
Walt finished with the ropes and stepped back, glancing around at Fargo with a puzzled look on his face.
“Get him on his feet and out back,” Fargo said to both Jim and Walt.
They yanked up the sobbing man like he was a rag doll and half carried him out the door and down the hall toward the outhouse.
“What didn’t you know?” Fargo asked Daniel as they went through the back door. The alley was a small street lined down the center with a dozen outhouses serving the hotels on each side. No one else was in the alley at the moment, but there was no way of telling if there was someone in one of the narrow, wooden structures.
“That it was my father’s gold they were after,” Danielsobbed, tears flowing over his broken nose and making lines in the dried blood on his face. “I didn’t know. Sarah said it was from the Constitution mine. I’m pretty sure her father’s behind all this.”
“And that allows you to rob and kill men for gold?” Fargo asked, even more disgusted now at the sobbing boy. No wonder Sarah Brant could manipulate this kid. He was as weak and as stupid as they came.
Walt opened the outhouse door and Fargo shoved the kid inside really hard, slamming him into the back wood wall.
“Come out when you’re finished and can stand on your own two feet and be a man.”
Fargo looked first at Jim, then at Walt. “Both of you stay here and guard him. And if he tries to escape, shoot him.”
“Gladly,” Walt said.
Jim only nodded, but clearly didn’t disagree with Walt.
“When he’s finished, take him back to the room and tie him up again. I’ll be back.”
With that, Fargo strode off toward Marshal Davis’s office. He was so disgusted at the son of his good friend, he didn’t know what to do.
Fargo stamped up onto a wooden sidewalk and brushed past two men. He needed to calm down and think straight. And the best way to do that was to talk to the marshal and find out if he had any more information about the men in that box canyon yesterday.
He knew it was Sarah Brant and her father behind all this. Daniel had told him that much.
“Fargo, you sure made a lot of enemies up there when you made those men throw away their boots and guns,” the marshal laughed as Fargo entered the office.
“Just doing my civic duty, Marshal,” Fargo said. “You station a couple of men up there to watch for who comes up that trail?”
The marshal smiled real big. “Actually, didn’t need to. They arrived while we were still there. Two men, both
