“And you’re still breathing? He’s a good shot. I saw him drop a buck once at pretty near two hundred yards.”
Tibbit came over. “You know this man?”
“We’ve met,” Fargo said.
“He won’t tell me his real name. Claims he took the bonnet from a pile of clothes but he won’t say where the pile was or anything about Myrtle.”
“He’s not the Ghoul,” Fargo said.
“I have my doubts,” Tibbit said. “But he had the bonnet and he wouldn’t or couldn’t explain how he got it so I had to arrest him. Word has spread. You saw them out there. They’ve pretty much made up their minds and want to hang him.”
“Your good citizens sure are fond of rope.”
“Can you blame them? Five of their own, missing. Four of them women, no less.” Tibbit nodded at the prospector. “Maybe he’s not the Ghoul but he’s a handy scapegoat.”
Badger got up and stepped to the bars. “I didn’t do anything but take that bonnet. They can’t hang a man for that.”
“I’ll protect you,” Tibbit said.
Just then there was loud pounding on the door and voices were raised in anger.
“Open up, Marshal!”
“We want him!”
“We’re not leaving until you hand him over!”
Tibbit hitched at his pants and put his hand on his revolver. “Go away!” he yelled. “Disperse to your homes and leave this to the law.”
“We’ll break the door down if we have to!” a man warned. “Or get some powder and blow it open!”
“Did you hear that?” Tibbit asked in amazement. “People I have known for years.” He gnawed on his lip. “I’ve never faced a mob before. What would you suggest I do?”
Fargo stepped to the gun cabinet. He opened it and took down an English-made shotgun. A drawer under the cabinet contained shells. He loaded both barrels and went to the front door. “When I say, open it quick.”
“You’re not fixing to blow them to kingdom come, are you?”
“That depends on them.”
“Moments like these, I wish I was back selling ladies’ corsets.” Tibbit removed the bar.
“Now,” Fargo said.
The lawman gulped.
The crowd had swollen to twenty or better and were pressed close under the overhang. When the door swung open those nearest to it turned. “What the hell?” a man blurted.
Fargo recognized the voice of the one who had threatened to use powder. He jammed the twin muzzles against the man’s cheek and thumbed back the hammers. “Twitch and I splatter your brains.”
Everyone froze. Eyes widened in alarm and anger, and a man in a bowler started to slip a hand under his jacket.
“Anyone pulls on me and I cut loose,” Fargo warned.
The man in the bowler lowered his hand.
“Oh God,” said the one the muzzles were gouging. “Be careful with that cannon, mister. It goes off and it’s liable to blow my head clean off.”
“Back into the street, all of you,” Fargo told them. “I have a few words to say.”
All eyes on the shotgun, they retreated and were joined by others who had witnessed the turn of events. No one spoke. Some coughed and fidgeted.
Marshal Tibbit came out and stood on Fargo’s right, his six-shooter level. “I should arrest every one of you.”
From the back of the crowd came an angry shout, “All we want is for the killer to swing!”
Fargo raised his own voice. “Can all of you hear me?” he asked, and when several at the back nodded, he went on. “It’s only right you want to see justice done. But that prospector in there isn’t the Ghoul.”
“How do you know?” a woman demanded.
“Because while you were working yourselves up to hang an innocent man, the real Ghoul was taking shots at me.”
A townsman said, “Why should we believe you? You’re not one of us. You’re a stranger.”
“I want the son of a bitch as much as you do. He’s tried three times now to kill me.”
“You’re sure about that old buzzard in there?”
“If he was the Ghoul I’d shoot him myself.”
Murmuring broke out. A few heated exchanges erupted. Fargo let them get it out of their system. When they began to quiet, he raised his arm to get their attention. “Do as the marshal says and go home.”
Tibbit stepped off the boardwalk. “You heard the scout. I want this street cleared.” He moved among them, goading them to move along.
Fargo went back into the office. He broke the shotgun open, extracted the shells, and dropped them in the drawer. As he was placing the shotgun on the rack, Badger pressed his face between the cell bars.
“Am I going to be lynched?”
“Not today.”
“You did me a favor, buckskin. I’m obliged, and I’d like to do you a favor in return.” Badger glanced at the front door. “Come here,” he whispered. “I have a secret to tell you.”
Fargo went over.
“You wanted to know where I got that bonnet. I can tell you right where to find the pit.”
“Did you say pit?” Fargo said.
“The bonnet and the leg,” Badger said. “I only kept the leg a little while because it stunk so bad.”
“Did you say
Badger motioned for him to come closer. “No one else can hear but you and you have to promise not to say.”
Fargo bent his ear to the bars. “I’m listening.”
“That’s good,” Badger said.
There was a tug on Fargo’s holster and he glanced down to find it empty.
He went to straighten, only to have his own Colt jammed against his ribs.
“Stand real still or you’re a goner.” Badger thumbed back the hammer.
“Hell,” Fargo said.
Badger cackled. “I sure suckered you, didn’t I? As if I’d tell you where the pit was. You’d make him stop and spoil everything. I wouldn’t get anymore treats.”
Fargo debated trying to pull away but he was bound to be shot. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The skin man doesn’t know I know or that I take things. He wouldn’t let me if he did.”
“Does this skin man have a name?”
“I never asked.”
Boots clomped, and Marshal Tibbit came in and closed the door behind him.
Without looking over at them he said, “I thank you for your help. I couldn’t have dispersed them without you.”
“Ain’t he polite?” Badger said.
Tibbit walked to the desk and was about to slump into his chair when he glanced at the cell. “What on earth?”
“It’s like this,” Badger said. “Unlock this door or buckskin, here, meets his Maker.”
Tibbit started to lower his hand to his revolver but stopped. “How could you let this happen?” he asked Fargo.
“It’s not his fault,” Badger said, and cackled. “I’m tricky when I need to be. Now get off your fat ass and do as I told you.”
“I am not fat,” Tibbit said angrily. “I am mildly plump.”
“Then get your mildly plump ass over here.” Badger did more cackling and gouged Fargo harder. “He’s got a
