by Sharpe, Jon
Fargo slugged her. He held back—some—and caught her flush on the chin. She folded in her tracks, her eyes rolling up into her head. He caught her and carried her downstairs to the parlor and set her on the settee. He wasn’t gentle about it.
A floorboard creaked behind him. Fargo spun, his hand dropping to his Colt, but it was only Edna McWhertle, wringing her hands.
“I saw what you did. She didn’t leave you much choice.”
Fargo rubbed his knuckles. “The bitch has a jaw like a rock.”
Edna bit her lower lip and gazed up the stairs. “Doc Jackson shooed me out. Said as how she can handle it by her lonesome. I offered to heat water but she told me to make myself scarce.”
“How much trouble will you get in for this?”
Edna shrugged. “Some, I reckon. Orville will be mad as can be. He’ll want Harold to beat me but Harold might not if I talk to him sweet.”
“He’s beaten you before?”
“I’m his woman. He has the right.”
“Hell,” Fargo said.
“You’re not married, I hear,” Edna said. “You wouldn’t know how it is.”
“Why don’t you explain it to me?”
Edna stepped to a chair and tiredly sank down. “A woman has to know her place. When she marries she promises to obey, and when she doesn’t, it’s up to her husband to set her right.”
“Is that Harold talking? Or you?”
“Well, mostly it’s him,” Edna said. “When we got hitched I didn’t think he’d be how he turned out. So stern, I mean. I think it’s because he looks up to Orville and Orville beats Mabel all the time.”
Fargo looked at the woman on the settee and frowned.
“I try to rein in my independent streak, as Harold calls it,” Edna resumed, “but it’s hard. I guess I’m just contrary by nature.”
“I bet that’s him talking again,” Fargo said. “You’re a grown woman. You have the right to do and say what you damn well please.”
“I hear tell there are places where that’s true,” Edna said, “but it’s not true hereabouts and it’s sure not true in this house.”
“I’m surprised you put up with it. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
“Now see,” Edna said, “that’s because you’re a man. But what else am I to do? He earns the money. And we have children. It’s not as if I can pack them up and leave. Not that there hasn’t been a time or two I didn’t want to, after he got done hittin’ me.”
“You could find another man.”
“Oh, Mr. Fargo,” Edna said quietly. “I ain’t much of a looker and I’m in my middle years. And with kids, besides? Most men wouldn’t give me a first look, let alone a second.”
Fargo didn’t say anything.
“No, I’m stuck here. And it’s not all bad. Harold and me have had some good times. It’s just that I don’t agree with how him and his kin treat the doc. She’s a good woman. She cares about folks.”
“Tell that to the jackasses who hate her.”
Edna folded her hands in her lap. “It’s not entirely them,” she said.
“Who else, then?”
“Why, Charles T. Dogood, of course. That man hates her. He has hated her from the day she hung up her shingle and his hate has only gotten worse. You should hear how he talks about her. All the stuff he says behind her back. He’s turned a lot of the folks in this county against her, and that’s no lie.”
“He doesn’t want her taking his business.”
“That’s part of it,” Edna said. “But there’s more there, too.”
“More how?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ve listened to him a lot. I have to, when he’s talkin’ to Harold and the rest. And it’s more than hate that drives him. There is somethin’ else but I don’t know what.” Edna wrung her hands. “I’m afraid Dogood will be madder than ever over me bringin’ her to help Artemis. It wouldn’t surprise me if he stirs folks up enough to run her and you plumb out of Coogan County.”
“They’re welcome to try,” Fargo said.
11
After an hour Fargo got tired of sitting around. Edna had gone into the kitchen. Her children were asleep. There hadn’t been a peep out of Belinda Jackson except once when she poked her head out to say she needed clean towels.
Fargo went out on the porch and stretched. Stars speckled the firmament and a brisk breeze stirred the maples and oaks. He leaned against a post and listened to the distant keening yip of a coyote. In the vicinity of the barn an owl hooted.
The Ovaro was dozing.
If he had any sense, Fargo told himself, he’d climb on and be out of the Ozarks before the new day was done. Orville McWhertle had been right in that this was none of his affair. Then again, he didn’t like anyone telling him what he could or couldn’t do, and he damn sure didn’t like seeing Belinda treated the way they were treating her.
Then, too, Orville and Artemis had attacked him, and he never took kindly to anyone trying to pound him to a pulp or stick cold steel in him.
Add the crazy old buzzard who tried to skewer him with arrows, and Fargo felt he had several good reasons for sticking around.
Down on the road hooves rumbled. The riders turned in at the lane and came through the orchard, slowing as they neared the farmhouse. They didn’t spot him in the shadows.
Orville was in front. Behind him came Harold and four others, all stamped from the family mold. Each and every one had a rifle in his scabbard. None, as near as Fargo could tell, wore a revolver.
It was Orville who noticed the Ovaro and blurted, “What in hell?” He tapped his spurs and brought his bay up next to the stallion. “Will you look at this?”
Harold and the rest came to a stop and Harold said, “Why do you reckon he came back?”
“I aim to find out,” Orville declared, and started to swing his right leg up.
Fargo moved to the top of the steps, the light from the front window at his back, his hand on his Colt. “Stay right where you are.”
Orville froze, then slowly lowered his leg and placed his huge hands on his saddle horn. “Mister, you’ve got a lot of gall.”
“What are you doin’ here?” Harold demanded. “I told you before to stay off my place.”
“I brought Dr. Jackson,” Fargo said.
Orville jerked upright and glared at the house. “That female doc is here too? What’s she up to?”
“What do you think?” Fargo rejoined.
“Son of a bitch,” Orville rasped. “How did she find out about Artemis?”
Harold brought his horse closer. “I didn’t give her permission to go in my house. I’ll have the law after her for trespassin’.”
“Someone else asked her to come,” Fargo said.
“Who?”
Fargo shrugged.
“I know who it was,” Orville said, and glowered at Harold. “It’s that woman of yours. Who else would of done it?”
“Edna knows better,” Harold said, but not with a lot of conviction.
“Like hell. She’s always goin’ against your wishes. And she’s always had a soft spot for the female sawbones. Now she went and brought her out here to tend to Art after you told her before we left she wasn’t to do any such thing.”
“I’ll beat her black and blue if she did,” Harold declared, and he went to dismount.
“Stay on your horse,” Fargo warned. “All of you.”
“What the hell?” Harold snapped. “You can’t tell a man what to do on his own property and on his own horse.”
“The doc’s not to be bothered,” Fargo said. “Until she’s done no one is going in.”
“There are six of us and only one of you. We won’t be bluffed.”
Orville spared Fargo having to answer by saying, “Use your noggin, Harold. He can slick that smoke wagon and put a bullet into each of us before we clear our rifles.”
“How do we know he’s that good?”
“How do we know he’s not?” Orville countered. “We already
saw how fast he is, and a man that’s practiced that much is liable to be just as good at hittin’ what he aims at.”
Fargo was slightly impressed. Orville was more than a mountain of muscle; there was a brain in there somewhere.
“We could rush him all at once,” Harold proposed.
“We’re on our horses, you dimwit,” Orville said. “Or do you expect him to wait until all of us have climbed down to start shootin’?”
“Don’t be callin’ me names, cousin,” Harold said. “I hate it when you treat me like I’m dumb.”
“And I hate it when you’re dumb, so we’re even,” Orville said.
To take their minds off any notion of attacking him, Fargo asked, “Did you find Old Man Sawyer?”
“No,” Orville said glumly, “we did not. And we went all over those woods for a mile around his cabin.”
“What can have gotten into him, puttin’ an arrow into Artemis like that?” one of the other men brought up.
Orville nodded at Fargo. “The scout, here, thinks as how Sawyer has rabies.”
“The hell you say.”
“I thought rabies just makes you thirsty and then your muscles get stiff and you can’t walk and you die,” said another man.
“Maybe he just went loco,” suggested a third, “killin’ all his animals like he done.”
The front door opened and Belinda came out. She put a hand to the small of her back and arched it and came to the rail. “It took some doing but I extracted the arrow,” she announced. “I’ve stitched him up and given him a sedative. Your cousin Artemis will live.”
Instead of expressing gratitude, Orville stabbed a finger at her. “Don’t think this changes anythin’. It doesn’t. You don’t pull up stakes, and soon, you won’t like what happens.”
“Not even a little bit,” Harold gleefully chimed in.
Belinda sighed and looked at Fargo. “If this hasn’t persuaded them, what will?”
“This,” Fargo said, and patted his Colt.
“I pray it doesn’t come to that,” she said quietly.
Orville rumbled in his chest like an angry bear. “You don’t want it to come to that then light a shuck.” He began to dismount. “I reckon it’s safe for us go in now, boys.”
Taking hold of Belinda’s arm, Fargo moved aside so the farmers could go by. Orville and Harold made it a point to glare. The others didn’t seem to hate as much. As the door slammed behind them, Belinda bowed her head and wearily rubbed a temple.
“I’m beginning to wonder why I bother.”
“Saving that no-account’s life doesn’t count?” Fargo said.
“It goes deeper than that. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to win these people over and so many of them continue to reject me. I’m at my wit’s end.”
Fargo leaned close and said into her ear, “You’ve had a long day. You need to relax.”
She looked at him and his mouth quirked. “Do I, indeed? And I suppose you have an idea how I should go about it?”
“It will curl your toes,” Fargo said.
Belinda laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “Thank you, kind sir. You have perked my spirits.”
“Let’s get you home and we’ll perk something else.”
“Oh my.” Belinda did more laughing. “I have to fetch my bag and we’ll be on our way.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“There’s no need,” she said. “They won’t harm me after what I just—”
From inside the farmhouse came a scream. Not a normal scream, if a scream could ever be called normal. It was a scream of pure and total terror, torn from the throat of the screamer. It rose to an earsplitting shriek and ended in a gurgle.
“My God,” Belinda said, her hand on her throat. “That sounded like Edna.” She was through the door before Fargo could stop her.
Thinking that Harold must be beating his wife, Fargo darted after her. He was on her heels when they came to the foot of the stairs.
Harold and Orville and the other men were already there, staring up uneasily.
“What’s going on?” Belinda asked. “Why did Edna scream like that?”
“She went up to check on Abigail,” Harold said, “and then we heard that awful cry.” He bounded up the stairs and everyone else followed suit.
Fargo came last. He glanced in the parlor and saw Mabel still out on the settee. He’d forgotten about her. When she came around and told Orville he’d hit her, there would be hell to pay. He’d better be gone before then.
The farmers and the physician stopped at a closed door. “This is our bedroom,” Harold said. He tried to open it and said angrily, “It’s bolted on the inside.”
“You have a bolt on your bedroom door?” Orville said.
“So the kids can’t come barging in on us.” Harold pounded and shook the door. “Edna? Are you all right? What the hell was that? And why is the door bolted?”
In the room someone whimpered.
“Was that her?” one of the men asked.
“Edna?” Harold hollered louder, and shook the door more violently. “Let us in, you hear?”
“Break it down,” Belinda said.
“Like hell,” Harold replied. “Doors cost money and I can’t afford to replace it.”
“But your wife is in trouble.”
“It would serve her right, sendin’ for you without my say-so.”
“Oh, hell,” Fargo said. Shoving Harold aside, he raised his boot to kick the door but just then there was a scraping noise and the door was jerked open.
Edna stumbled out. The left side of her neck had been torn open, and she had a hand over it to stem the flow of blood. Not much was coming out although a lot already had; the front and back of her dress were stained crimson. She looked at her husband and gasped, “Harold!”
Harold was rooted in shock. “What in the world?” he blurted. She fell into his arms and would have fallen to the floor had Orville not sprang to help. “What could have done this?”
Fargo tried to see into the bedroom but too many people were in his way.
Uttering a groan, Edna passed out.
“Let’s set her down,” Orville said, and they eased her onto her back.
Belinda tried to get between them, saying, “I need to have a look at her. She needs immediate treatment.”
“You’ve done enough,” Harold barked, and grabbed her to prevent her from intervening.
Fargo coiled to defend her but suddenly one of the other men let out a cry of horror.
“God in heaven! Look!”
A girl of ten or so was in the doorway. She wore a plain white cotton dress and had long brown hair. Her face was twisted in savage fury—and she was foaming at the mouth.
12
Everyone turned to stone.
The girl looked at each of them. Her eyes were so bloodshot, the whites were red. Her pupils were dilated. With each breath she took her nose flared, and all the while froth bubbled around her lips and dribbled down her chin and neck.
“Abigail?” Harold said.
The girl hissed and hooked her fingers into claws. Several of the men, including Orville, took an involuntary step back, and one man gasped.
“Abby?” Harold said again. “This is your pa. What in heaven’s name has happened to you?” He reached for her.
“No!” Belinda cried.
It was too late. Abigail sprang and bit down on her father’s fingers. Harold screeched, there was a crunch, and the girl bit the ends of two of the fingers off. She pulled back, the fingertips jutting from her teeth, and did something that made even Fargo’s blood chill: she smiled.
Harold clutched his hand, blood pumping from the stumps, and blubbered gibberish.
“God preserve us!” another McWhertle exclaimed.
Abigail spat the fingers out. Some of the foam flew in small drops onto the man’s arm and he recoiled as if the drops were the plague.
“Abby?” Belinda reached for her but the girl ducked under her grasp. “Grab her!
” she cried.
The girl ducked under Orville’s halfhearted attempt to grasp her and passed the others. She was incredibly quick.
Fargo tried, and missed.
“Catch her, Skye!” Belinda said. “We can’t let her get away.”
Abigail flew down the hall and Fargo ran in pursuit. He reached the top of the stairs and saw her at the bottom. She glanced up and gave him another of those awful smiles, and then she raced off. He took the stairs three at a bound. She had left the front door open and he sped out onto the porch. To his left a small white form was streaking toward the barn. Leaping over the rail, he pumped his legs. He was considered fleet of foot and had taken part in a few footraces and done well but the girl was inhuman. She reached the barn and disappeared inside.
When he got there he stopped. She had already bitten her mother’s neck and bit off her father’s fingers; he’d be damned if he would let her bite him, too.
Fargo placed his hand on his Colt, then took it off. He wouldn’t shoot her if he could help it. Warily, he entered. The barn smelled of horses and cows and straw. He looked for a lantern but it was too dark to see one. He cautiously advanced down the aisle. In a stall a horse nickered. “Abigail?” he said. “We want to help you.”
From somewhere deeper in came a hiss.
Fargo’s skin crawled. He would take on anyone man-to-man or man-to-beast. But this? Something terrible had happened to this girl. Something had changed her. He remembered Old Man Sawyer and his skin crawled anew. Sweat broke out. Whatever it was, he realized, it must be contagious. Which meant if the girl bit him—
Something moved at the end of the aisle.
Fargo felt his mouth go dry. If it was rabies there was no cure. Everyone who came down with it died. He licked his lips and moved more slowly, his body a taut spring, ready to dodge or backpedal. “Abigail,” he said softly. “I’m a friend. Can you understand?”
Another hiss told him she couldn’t.
Fargo walked on eggshells. A thump to his left caused him to whirl but it was only a horse in a stall. He edged forward. Suddenly there was the rasp of leather hinges and a door at the back was flung wide and a white form darted out. He hurtled after her.
