Fargo stood behind three people in line for stagecoach tickets. This gave him a chance to observe Ned Lenihan. The Pinks he’d worked with said that you could tell a lot about a man just by watching him deal with other people. If he was in any kind of trouble he might appear agitated in some way.
If Lenihan was agitated, he knew how to keep it hidden.
“The finest book I’ve ever read,” said a sensible-looking middle-aged woman in a man’s denim shirt and gray butternuts. She held the book up for Lenihan to see. “
“No. But I’ve been meaning to. Amy has and she really enjoyed it.”
“I’m taking it along on my trip to Denver. That’s one of the few good things about the stagecoach—no offense, Ned—I get a lot of reading done. Unless the other people talk too loud. You get some real loud ones once in a while.”
Lenihan was a small man of about forty with fine, precise features. Instead of looking annoyed at the woman prattling on when there were other customers waiting, his smile seemed to say that he really enjoyed her company. All the while he was making out her ticket.
“Yep, I’ll read it through again and then I’ll give it to my granddaughter. She’s eight but she can read up a storm. She’ll love it as much as I do.”
The next two customers were just as talkative and Lenihan was just as patient. He stood there in his blue shirt with the black bolo tie, able to watch them as he scribbled out their fares.
Fargo knew you couldn’t judge a man by either appearance or demeanor. He’d once hunted a grandfatherly man who had set fire to his daughter and three grandchildren. Their offense was trying to stop him from playing his accordion late at night. The man had a face that would have worked as a magazine illustration of all that was right and good and wise of old age.
But if Lenihan had killed three men in cold blood he had a kind of cunning that Fargo had never encountered before. Cold-blooded killer in the night, friendly open man during the day.
Then it was Fargo’s turn to step up to the counter.
“Howdy. Can I help you?”
“Name’s Skye Fargo. I’m helping Tom Cain.” He wasn’t surprised to see Lenihan’s face tighten. He had to know he was under suspicion for the robbery.
“Yessir. What can I do for you?”
“Wanted to talk to you about that robbery last month.”
“Terrible. That Englishman was headed back home when it happened and the driver was a good friend of mine.”
“I was thinking more about the money that got stolen, I guess.” Fargo kept his gaze fixed on the man’s face. “I’m told you were one of the few people who knew about it.”
“I guess that makes me guilty, huh?” Anger, frustration.
“I didn’t say that. I’m not making any accusations. I’m just trying to find out what happened.”
“I heard you were helping Cain. In case you didn’t know, he spent a good bit of time trying to win my woman from me.”
“He told me that he’d given up.”
“So he says. And here’s something else you might think about. Tom Cain knew about that shipment, too.”
“You’re saying that he had something to do with it?”
“I’m saying that since the rest of us are under suspicion, he should be too. And personally, I don’t know why you’d want to get hooked up with a man like Cain.”
“I’m doing him a favor. He’s an old friend of mine.”
“Favor, huh? By my lights he’s a bully and a liar.” He smiled. “You know what this is about? He wants to marry the woman I plan to marry. It’d be one thing if she wanted to marry him. I’d step aside. I wouldn’t want to force her into anything. I’m not like that. But Cain’ll do anything. And I guess I should’ve figured he’d come up with something like this. Like saying I was in cahoots with those robbers or something. He gets me in trouble and then he has a clear field with Amy. Or that’s what he thinks anyway. But I know better. I’m sure if I was out of the picture Amy would find another man—she’s very pretty and very healthy—but it wouldn’t be Tom Cain. Not under any circumstances I can think of.”
“That a serious accusation or you just talking?”
Deep sigh. “I don’t know. I hate Cain and I’d like to see him run out of town. Or sent to prison. He made out real good taming this town. So I got to admit I may just be talking. But I’ve thought about it and I can’t see who else it would’ve been that tipped off those robbers. Maybe somebody at the other end, at the bank. But there’s no way for me to know that since I don’t know any of the people over there. And besides, if it was somebody over there I’d think the president of the bank would have his suspicions and he hasn’t said anything. And he’s been over here twice. So as far as I’m concerned that leaves Cain.”
“So you are accusing Cain of robbery and murder.”
Lenihan had an easy smile. “And you know what? I don’t have any trouble sleeping and I digest my food just fine.”
The door opened and a fetching young woman in a yellow blouse, a brown leather vest and Levi’s walked in. Her body was rich with curves. Breasts turned the yellow blouse into a fine tribute to femininity. Fargo didn’t recognize her at first. The first and only time he’d seen her it had been night and she was dressed in funeral black. Sarah Friese, the undertaker’s daughter.
“Howdy, Ned.”
“Howdy yourself, Sarah.”
“I’ve got this box I need to send to Fox Junction. No hurry but thought I’d drop it off here.” She came over and set it on the counter. Looked like a cigar box, wrapped in tan paper, string neatly enclosing it.
“I’ll get you a receipt,” Ned said.
While he went to work, she looked at Fargo. “You probably don’t recognize me.”
“I sure do.”
“My father says that I don’t have to worry about men chasing me as long as I keep wearing his funeral clothes.”
“Hard to mistake a good-looking woman even in funeral clothes.”
She touched Fargo’s arm with long, thin fingers. “Did you hear that, Ned? There should be more men like him in Cawthorne. Maybe my father could get me married off after all.” Then: “I hope to see you soon, Mr. Fargo.”
“I have a feeling you probably will.”
She favored each man with another smile and left.
As soon as she was gone, Lenihan jabbed a finger in the air. “I didn’t have one damn thing to do with that robbery. Nothing. And like I told you, as far as I’m concerned this is nothing more than Cain trying to steal Amy from me. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d get the hell out of here.”
Fargo was ten steps from the stage line office when he saw Deputy Pete Rule standing near an ore wagon talking to a couple of men. He headed over there, standing back until Rule was finished with his conversation. Rule didn’t look all that happy to see him.
“Heard you signed on, Fargo.”
“For twenty-four hours.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ve been doing some nosing around myself.”
“I got tricked into it. I wanted to be on my way to Denver now. I’m doing this as a favor to the three women who asked me. Cain put them up to it but I’m doing it anyway—for twenty-four hours. And then I’m gone whether I find out anything or not. Just because I’m asking around doesn’t mean you have to stop. The thing is to find the killer. Doesn’t matter much who finds him.”
“Well, I’ll keep asking around.”
“One thing I’m trying to figure out is Cain and this woman Amy Peters. I just talked with Ned Lenihan. He seems to think that Cain wants to blame the robbery and the killings on Lenihan so he can have Amy all to himself.”
Rule smiled, looking younger and healthier. “Well, she’s a beauty. No doubt about that. But Tom, he gave up
