animal. And not one iota friendlier. It greeted them with snarls and growls as they reached the property where a tumbledown cabin sat in a grove of jack pines. An ancient mule was tethered to a clothesline pole. Red long johns flapped in the wind.
The door to the cabin opened an inch or two. A disembodied voice said, “You’re welcome here, Karen, but not the man.”
“He’s helping me, Rex. We’re trying to find out who killed my brother.”
“I can’t help you there. Now you both git.”
The door slammed.
“He’s afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I’m not sure. Ever since the killings started.”
“Afraid somebody’ll come after him?”
“That’s what I thought. But I wonder.”
A chill wind smelling of pine brought a foretaste of winter as they stood staring at the cabin door.
“I talked to Ingrid this morning, Rex. She said you saw somebody talking to my brother and the other two one night. It would help us a lot if you’d tell us who you saw.”
“You need to leave, Karen.”
“You must be out of bread, Rex.”
“I don’t care about bread. Now you go along and take that big man with you.”
The wolfhound growled, as if to second its master’s command.
“Well, I don’t know what to do with this bread. I have two loaves here and one of them is cinnamon.”
A long pause. “Cinnamon?”
“Yes. I know that’s your favorite.”
“Who’s the man?”
“His name’s Skye Fargo. He’s helping me like I said. We really need to talk to you, Rex.”
“I don’t want to get nobody in trouble.”
“You read the Bible, Rex. And you know what the Bible says about telling the truth.”
Another long pause. “Are they both cinnamon, did you say?”
“One of them’s cinnamon. But if you’ll talk I’ll make you another loaf of it next time, too.”
The door creaked open. A short man with a long white beard dressed in a green flannel shirt, grimy jeans and boots that laced up to his knees emerged. The first thing he did was spit out a stream of chaw and the second thing he did was hitch up his britches. He had only one suspender.
“You sit right there, King. If that feller makes a move, you get ready.”
The wolfhound must have understood the tone if not the exact meaning of the words. Its magnificent head swept around to Rex Connor, as if it had understood everything.
“I told Ingrid not to say nothing.”
“Her son’s dead, Rex. My brother’s dead. We need help.”
“What’s this Fargo got to do with it?”
“He’s helping Tom Cain.”
“Tom Cain.” He spat more tobacco. “I wouldn’t trust Tom Cain if my life depended on it.”
“Maybe your life doesn’t, but since we haven’t caught the killer yet maybe somebody’s does.”
Fargo realized that this could go on a long time. He said, “If you know something you need to tell us. If somebody else gets killed you might be partly responsible. We don’t have much time. So I’d appreciate it if you’d let us know who you saw with the three boys that night.”
“What if I said I didn’t recognize him?”
“Then I’d say you’re a liar.”
“Skye!” Karen said. “Don’t insult him!”
But the Trailsman was tired of the conversation. He took two steps forward, knowing he would set the dog off.
“One more step and he’ll jump you, Fargo,” Connor said.
“Then he’ll have to jump me.”
Fargo felt Karen’s hand clutching his shirt. “Skye, it’s not worth it.”
“Yes, it is.”
Fargo raised his right leg and started to take a step. His eyes were fixed on Connor’s face. He hoped the old buzzard would relent. He was betting on it.
The wolfhound stood up. Arched its body.
Fargo began to put his foot to the ground, to take the final step.
“Cinnamon, you say?” Connor said. “That’s the only reason I’ll do it. Not because I’m afraid of this here gunfighter.”
Fargo swallowed his smile. Every man wanted to save face. No man wanted to be seen backing down. Not even this old coot. He did it himself. “Good thing you agreed to it. The dog would’ve made a mess of me but I would’ve pumped you full of lead before he killed me.”
“Oh, God,” Karen Byrnes said, “is it any wonder I hate men?”
When Amy heard about the fight between Ned and Tom Cain, she rushed from the general store and began running to the stagecoach office. The two men who had taken great delight in telling her about it came out on the stoop in front of the store and clucked their disapproval of both Amy and Ned Lenihan. They were of the mind that Lenihan had killed the three boys to keep them from revealing his part in the robbery.
Amy stumbled twice, once nearly falling to the ground, saved only by a man who reached down and brought her to her feet. But not even that slowed her. She wanted to hold Ned. Keep him safe. Tom Cain had been an enemy before. Now he could afford to openly pursue Ned.
She was startled to see Ned at the counter filling out a form. As if nothing had happened. When he raised his head she saw a small bruise on his right cheek. Otherwise he looked fine.
There were no customers so she didn’t worry about pushing through the wooden gate and going to him. She lifted the pencil from his hand and took him in her arms.
She said nothing, just held him. She could feel his heart beat. The way it raced, she knew that he was afraid too. What he’d done had been reckless. She didn’t blame him. Cain had pushed him far too long. His rage must have been overwhelming. By rights he would not stand a chance against Cain. But he’d likely snapped and pounced on Cain before the lawman knew what was happening. In other circumstances she would have been happy for Ned. But not now. Not when so many people in town thought he was guilty. Not now when Cain had been waiting for some excuse to move on Ned.
She found herself kissing him passionately. She found herself weeping, her tears dampening the faces of both of them.
As he tore off pieces of cinnamon bread and stuffed them into his mouth, Rex Connor managed to salt his white beard with bits of bread and sprays of his own spittle. It wasn’t a pretty sight, especially since he was more concentrated on his eating than answering Fargo’s question.
Standing in the thinning sunlight outside Rex’s cabin, Fargo said, “So you saw a man talking to the three boys that night?”
Rex nodded. His mouth was too full to speak.
“And you recognized him?”
Another nod.
“But you’re afraid you’ll get him in trouble if you tell us who you saw?”
Rex gulped down some bread and said, “That’s right.”
“What if he was the killer?” Fargo said. He was tired of taking his time with this old fart. If Karen hadn’t been here he would have grabbed him and shaken the truth out of him. “You want to protect a killer?”
“He ain’t no killer.”
“You’re sure of that?”
Instead of answering, Rex tore off another piece of bread with his grimy hands. “I’ve known this feller a long,
