opposite wall and began arranging a shelf devoted to bonnets. She had barely begun when the door was flung open and in strode Kutler and two others.
Regarding them coldly, Sally said, “What is the meaning of this? Unless you are buying something for a lady friend, you will leave this instant.”
“Like hell we will, lady,” one of the curly wolves said.
Big Mike Durn filled the doorway. With a swift step, he seized the offender by the front of his shirt. “You will show her the respect she is due, Adams, or you will not like the consequences.”
Adams visibly paled. “Sorry, Mr. Durn. I meant no disrespect.”
As an oily smile replaced his scowl, Durn faced Sally. “My apologies, my dear. Some of my associates can be most uncouth.”
“Spare me the flowery talk,” Sally said tartly. “You are no better than they are.”
“How can you say that?” Durn said, acting stung by her remark. “Yes, I lived as a reckless riverman once. But I was born and raised on a farm in Illinois. My mother insisted I learn to read and write, and taught me manners.” He paused. “But you know all that. I have shared my life’s story with you.”
“Yes. I know you left home when you knifed a man over a trifle, and that you fled west and wound up on the Mississippi.”
“A victim of circumstance,” Big Mike said.
“But I also recall you saying that you were as wild as a child as you were on the river, and as you are now,” Sally said. “You constantly gave your parents a hard time. You hung a cat from the barn rafters just to see how long it would take to die.”
Durn’s smile disappeared. “I did not come here to discuss my past. I am searching for your friend, Mr. Fargo.”
“Why bother me?” Sally said. “I have just opened up, as you can plainly see.”
“So it would appear.”
Sally set down a bonnet and advanced on him. “Are you calling me a liar, Mike Durn?”
“Of course not,” Durn said. “But I am afraid I must insist.” He snapped his fingers at Kutler and the other two and they fanned out.
“I must protest,” Sally said hotly.
“Do so, my dear, by all means,” Durn said. “So long as you consent to have supper with me this evening.”
“You are something else—do you know that?”
Durn smiled and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Thank you. Coming from you, I take that as a compliment.”
Sally shook her head. “Honestly. When will you take the hint? There will never be anything between us.”
“Never is a long time. And I can be most per—”
Fargo lost interest in their conversation. Kutler had drawn his bowie and was coming toward the mannequin. Inwardly, Fargo swore. He could not put up much of a fight, hemmed by the hoops as he was.
Durn and Sally raised their voices but Kutler paid them no mind as he stalked to within an arm’s length of the mannequin and reached out with his other hand.
Fargo balanced on the balls of his feet. He would try to throw the mannequin off and leap on Kutler all in one quick movement.
“Look at what I have found!” Kutler abruptly declared. “I sure do like the yellow and the green. How much is it, ma’am?”
Both Sally and Big Mike Durn stopped arguing and glanced at Kutler in surprise.
“I beg your pardon?”
Kutler gave Sally an awkward grin. “There is this girl. I want to buy her something, and this dress is right pretty. How much is it?”
Durn looked fit to explode. “What the hell is the matter with you? We are on a manhunt and you take time to admire a silly dress?” He gestured sharply.
Sheepishly nodding, Kutler moved toward the hall to the back, beckoning for the other two to follow.
“I will thank you not to use rude language in my presence,” Sally said to Durn. “If you are going to pretend to be a gentleman, the least you can do is act like one.”
“Sally, Sally, Sally,” Durn said, and sighed. “I try so hard. But all you ever do is throw disrespect in my face.”
“I can’t help it if I am not interested,” Sally said. “A woman is not always master of her heart.”
“Is there someone else?” Big Mike growled. “Is that it? Tell me who, and I will have a talk with him.”
Sally glanced toward the mannequin, then back at Durn. “I have not been attracted to a man in so long, I have almost forgotten what it feels like.”
“Then there is still hope for me,” Durn said, his smile blossoming anew. “In time you will warm to me.”
“I could never open my heart to a man who forces himself on other women,” Sally said. “Or do you think I haven’t heard about your escapades with those poor Indian girls?”
“Rumors, my dear,” Durn said. “They apply to my men, not to me. I am above that sort of thing.”
“Even if I believed that, which I don’t, you are as much to blame as they are. You just called them
“You are nitpicking.”
“If they are answerable to you, you are answerable for their actions,” Sally said. “I hold you to account for all the wicked acts your men have committed.”
“Wicked?” Durn scoffed, and laughed. “And which acts would those be, pray tell? Other than having some squaws come work for me?”
“You force them—”
Mike Durn reared over her. “Not
“Oh, please. You lure their fathers or husbands into the Whiskey Mill with cheap liquor. You trick them into sitting in on rigged card games. You extend credit, knowing they have no money, and when they lose, you insist they repay their debts by having their daughters or wives come work for you.”
“All perfectly legal.”
“But immoral, and outright wrong,” Sally said.
Durn closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I am beginning to think that there is no reasoning with you. You will never change your outlook.”
“No, I will not,” Sally said, then seemed to catch herself. “But let’s say I did. Let us say I start to think favorably of you. What would you be willing to do as a token of your affection?”
Durn opened his eyes and cocked his head. “I do not follow.”
“If I were to take up with you, would you be willing to let all the Indian girls go back to their villages?”
“Are you serious?”
“Never more so,” Sally said. “You must have, what, close to a dozen girls in that hole you call a saloon? Give them back their lives. Send them back to their people, and I might start to think favorably of you.”
“Might,” Durn repeated.
“Am I not worth it?” Sally glibly asked.
“No.”
Sally colored in shock. “I beg your pardon? All this talk of how much you care for me has been a lie?”
“You are mixing personal with business.”
“Now I am the one who does not follow you,” Sally admitted.
“It is simple,” Mike Durn said. “I like you, yes, but that is personal. Those squaws are part of my business. They earn a lot of money for me. Were I to let them go, I would lose considerable income. Are you willing to take their place? To spread your legs for other men?”
Sally recoiled as if he had slapped her. “I have never been so insulted in my life! I would never stoop so low!”
“I didn’t think you would,” Durn said. “In which case, the squaws stay.”
A strained silence fell until Sally said, “You are being honest with me, and I appreciate that. So tell me
