Death Devil (9781101559666)

by Sharpe, Jon

  “But why?” Abner protested. “They ain’t hardly covered with goo.”

  Orville gestured at the houses. “You heard those two. We might have woke others and some yak will take it into his head to come for a look-see. We don’t want the whole town turnin’ out against us.”

  “Hell,” a scruffy cousin said. “We can lick ’em.”

  Mabel rose. “I am disappointed in you, husband. I thought you had more gumption.”

  “You want to see gumption?” Orville said. Taking a stride, he cuffed her across the face, a backhand that sent her tottering. She lost her grip on her ladle and it clattered to the ground. “Mouth off to me again in front of our kin and I’ll bust you good.”

  Mabel had a hand to her cheek and was struggling to control her temper.

  “I can’t hear you,” Orville said.

  “Sorry,” Mabel spat. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It sure as hell better not.” Orville rounded on the others. “Anyone else want to give me lip?”

  No one spoke.

  “I want the horses. I want the horses now. Move your asses, by God.”

  They scrambled to obey.

  Fargo looked at Belinda. Tar covered half her hair and had dripped down the left side of her face. Only her right eye, her nose and cheek and her mouth were free of it. Her nightdress a mess. “How are you holding up?”

  Her eye glistened. “All I ever wanted to do was help them.”

  “No talkin’, you two,” Abner growled.

  Fargo stared at him.

  “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

  Fargo went on staring.

  “Stop it, you hear?” Abner said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s like you’ve givin’ me the evil eye or somethin’.”

  “Or something,” Fargo said.

  The horses were brought and everyone quietly mounted except for the four men picked to carry the rails. One by one the clan filed out the gate and down the side street and, by a roundabout route of more side streets, soon reached the edge of Ketchum Falls.

  In the wee hour before dawn the town was as still as a cemetery. No one was out and about. No one demanded to know who they were and what they were up to.

  Fargo swayed with every step his bearers took. His shoulders became sore as hell.

  A horse swung in alongside the rail he was tied to, and who should be in the saddle but Charles T. Dogood. He smirked and said, “It’s a shame we were interrupted. I once saw a man covered with tar from head to toe. They had to peel it off him after it dried. Took off most of his skin, too.”

  “You brought this on them,” Fargo said.

  Dogood glanced down sharply. “Brought what, friend? I’m not sure I understand.”

  “One thing we’ll never be,” Fargo said, “is friends.”

  “What did I bring?” Dogood demanded.

  “You brought them to this,” Fargo answered, with a nod at the rail.

  “Oh. That.” The patent medicine man grinned. “It wasn’t entirely my doing. They are a proud people, the McWhertles. They stand up for one another.”

  “Tell that to Harold and Edna and the little girl.”

  “Orville did what needed doing. Just as he needed to tar and feather the good doctor. He’s tried for years to convince her to hang her shingle somewhere else but she was too stubborn for her own good.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” Fargo said.

  “Meaning me, I suppose?”

  “With you it’s not stubbornness,” Fargo said. “With you it’s that you’re snake-mean.”

  “I am no such thing,” Dogood said indignantly. “Ask anyone and they will tell you I’m the kindest person they know.”

  “You pretend to be. You smile and you flatter them and they can’t see the oil for the teeth.”

  “You’re suggesting I have a shady character?”

  “There’s no suggest about it.”

  Dogood bent down. “Do you know what? I’m glad they did this. You deserve to be put in your place. You’re entirely too sure of yourself.” He sniffed and gigged his horse.

  Belinda must have been listening because she said, “I never truly realized how petty that man is.”

  “He’s worse than petty,” Fargo said.

  “Shut up, both of you,” one of the men carrying him snapped. “You don’t talk unless we say.”

  They had gone about a quarter of a mile when Orville called for them to halt. Dismounting, he motioned for the rails to be set on the ground.

  The pair lowering Fargo’s let it drop from waist-high. Wincing, he made it a point to memorize their faces.

  Orville went to Belinda. “Have we gotten it through that noggin of yours?”

  “This was wrong, Orville McWhertle. I’ll never forgive you for mistreating me so.”

  “It’s for your own good,” Orville said.

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” Belinda said. “Next you’ll be assuring me the tar is good for my complexion.”

  “Damn it, woman. You ain’t got no sense. Consider this your last warnin’. Your very last. We tried reasonin’ with you and it didn’t work. We talked ourselves blue in the face makin’ it clear we don’t want you here but you stayed on anyway.”

  Mabel had come up. “You tell her, Orville. Tell the bitch how it is.”

  “You poor, misguided souls,” Belinda said.

  “How dare you look down your nose at us,” Mabel said, and before anyone could guess her intent, she kicked Belinda in the chest. Belinda cried out and Mabel drew her leg back to kick her again.

  “Enough of that,” Orville said.

  Mabel clearly yearned to go on kicking. She glared at him and then at Belinda. “You’re lucky he’s so softhearted or I’d stomp you silly.”

  Orville hunkered and waited until Belinda stopped quaking and gasping. “Take your city ways and your city doctorin’ and go somewhere folks will cotton to you. You’re not wanted here. You’re not welcome here. Charlie Dogood is our healer. We don’t need no one else.”

  “Thank you, friend Orville,” Dogood said.

  “What about him?” Abner asked, with a bob of his chin at Fargo. “Could be he might take it into his head to come after us.”

  “Maybe we should break his legs,” Clyde suggested. “He can’t come after us if he can’t walk nor ride.”

  Orville switched his attention to Fargo. “Good point, cousins. What about you, mister? Are you goin’ to leave this be?”

  “Would you?” Fargo said.

  “I knew it,” Abner spat.

  “Bust his legs and some of his fingers, besides,” Clyde urged.

  “Did you hear them?” Orville said. “I want your word that you’ll get on that horse of yours and light a shuck.”

  “What makes you think he’d keep it?” Abner asked.

  “This one would,” Orville said. “If you were a better judge of character, you’d know.” To Fargo he said, “I’ll ask you again, for the last time. Give me your word.”

  “Can’t,” Fargo said.

  “You’re makin’ this awful hard on yourself.”

  “I told you about the line.”

  “Be reasonable, damn it.”

  Fargo looked at the tar on his chest and pants and over at Belinda and back at Orville. “That’s damn funny coming from you.”

  Orville sighed and unfurled. “You know, boys. I reckon you have a point. This jasper is too thickheaded.”

  “Do we get to break his legs?” Clyde eagerly asked.

  “You get to kick and beat on him some,” Orville said. “Enough to convince him to go, which he can’t do with broke legs.”

  “That’ll have to do, I guess,” Clyde said, sounding disappointed.

  “This will add to it,” Fargo said to Orville.

  “There’s no talkin’ to you.” Orville motioned. “Show him what we think of someone who’s so goddamn stupid, boys.”

  Fargo tried to protect himself. He brought
his legs as far toward his chest as they would go and hunched his shoulders to offer less of his neck and head for their blows. Four of them pounced, Abner and Clyde and two others. Laughing and grinning, they rained punches and kicks on his chest, legs and arms. The pain was excruciating. In their excitement they jostled one another. A kick Abner aimed at his shoulder struck his cheek and bright spots of light pinwheeled before his eyes.

  “That’s enough,” Orville said.

  All of them stopped except Abner. He went on kicking and grinning.

  “I said that’s enough,” Orville repeated himself.

  Reluctantly, Abner stepped back.

  “How badly are you hurt?” Belinda asked.

  Fargo couldn’t answer. It was all he could do not to groan; he’d be damned if he’d give them the satisfaction.

  “Someone hand me a knife,” Orville said, and when one was shoved into his hand, he bent down. “Time to end this.”

  20

  The blade flashed in the starlight. The rope that bound Fargo’s wrists to the rail gave way as Orville cut the Trailsman free.

  “What did you do that for?” Abner asked.

  “We should leave them trussed,” Clyde declared.

  “You are too softhearted, husband,” Mabel complained.

  Orville ignored them. “You can do the rest yourself, and her,” he said to Fargo. He climbed on his horse and reined toward town. “If you’re smart you’ll fan the breeze. Collect your horse and your effects and go. We catch you hangin’ around, there will be blood.” He clucked to his animal and the McWhertles rode off in a body into the night.

  As Abner went by he glanced down and laughed.

  Mabel deliberately passed so close to Belinda that her horse nearly trod on her.

  The rumble of their hooves faded and the only sound was the wind and Belinda’s soft sobs.

  Fargo was a welter of pain. His arms, his legs, his sides. He hurt over every square inch. But he could endure the pain.

  He’d been beaten on before. Worse than this, in fact. It was the other thing that rankled. It was the other thing that he couldn’t live with and still call himself a man.

  Sitting up, he pried at the rope around his ankles. It took a considerable while. It would be easier if he used the toothpick but he couldn’t get at the ankle sheath in his boot. The knots were tight and his fingers were stiff and the simple act of moving made him hurt worse. The smell of the tar was getting to him. He plucked off as much as he could before it could dry and wiped his fingers in the grass.

  Belinda involuntarily started when he touched her cheek.

  “I’ll have you free in a minute.”

  “Oh, Skye,” she said, and went on sobbing.

  Fargo slid his fingers down his boot and palmed the Arkansas toothpick. A few cuts and the rope lay on the ground. She had so much tar on her that he got some on his hands when he helped her to stand.

  “How could they?” She placed her brow to his chest and cried in earnest.

  Fargo let her weep. He made a silent vow then and there.

  She was a good woman, this Belinda Jackson. But even if she wasn’t, even if she’d been the worst bitch to draw breath, she didn’t deserve this. When she was reduced to sniffling he touched her elbow.

  “We need to get that tar off your face.”

  “How?” she said. “Hot water and a lot of scraping is about the only thing that will work.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  Fargo exercised great care. Between his fingernails and a light application of the toothpick in a gentle scraping motion, he got a lot of it off her forehead and her cheek and her chin. She couldn’t open her left eye but it was better than it had been. “I can cut off the nightdress,” he offered, knowing what she would say.

  “And have me walk about in the altogether? No thank you. I have a little dignity left.”

  They started back. The air was cool and Fargo’s chest grew cold but it was the least of his considerations. He kept the toothpick in his right hand, just in case. In that part of the country there were bears and mountain lions—and people who went around foaming at the mouth.

  Belinda plodded along with her head bowed. All the vitality seemed to have drained out of her. Halfway to the settlement she cleared her throat.

  “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve been too stubborn for my own good.”

  “Don’t let them win,” Fargo said.

  “Look at me,” Belinda said. “Look at what my stubbornness has brought me to.”

  “You said it yourself. A lot of people in Ketchum Falls like you. A lot don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  “But that’s just it. The people who don’t won’t ever accept me. How can I live up to my Hippocratic oath if half those I came to help won’t let me touch them?”

  “It’s them, not you.”

  “I can’t force anyone to accept me. It’s been wrong of me to think I can.”

  “So you give up and go?”

  In the dark it looked as if she shrugged. “There are other towns, other communities. Places where I’d be accepted. Places where I wouldn’t have to fight my own patients.”

  “You want my advice?” Fargo asked, and didn’t wait for her to answer. “Stay in Ketchum Falls. The people who want you here deserve that. And the clan that did this to you won’t ever do it again.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Fargo didn’t respond.

  “You’re going to do as they want and leave, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “But you heard Orville. They’re through being nice.”

  “So am I.”

  Belinda went to put her hand on his arm and caught herself and looked at the tar covering her hand. “Listen to me. Please. I don’t want blood to be spilled.”

  “Orville said it.”

  “There will be blood?” Belinda remembered. “But that takes you down to their level.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Please,” Belinda said. “I’m not thinking only of them. I’m thinking of you. You’re just one man and there are a lot of them.”

  “An army is only as strong as its general.”

  “You can’t take the law into your own hands.”

  “There is no law in Ketchum Falls. Not with Gruel dead. And there’s the other thing, too.”

  “What other thing?”

  “The so-called rabies.”

  “What are you saying? That you know what it is?”

  “Someone said something that gave me a notion,” Fargo said.

  He didn’t elaborate.

  “You don’t care to share it?”

  Fargo was spared from having to answer by the clatter and rattle of a wagon coming up behind them. They stopped and waited and shortly a buckboard came around the last bend. In the seat was a burly farmer in overalls, a straw hat on his head. The sky had lightened enough that he saw them right away and smiled and brought his team to a stop. In the bed were half a dozen large milk cans.

  “Good morning, Mr. Tilman,” Belinda said.

  The farmer’s mouth fell open in astonishment. He looked from her to Fargo and back again. “What in heaven? Is that you, Dr. Jackson?”

  “Afraid so,” Belinda said.

  “Why, you’ve got tar all over you.”

  “Afraid so,” Belinda said again. “There are supposed to be feathers but they were interrupted before they could get around to that part.”

  “Who is this they you’re talkin’ about?” Tilman asked, his outrage apparent. “Who did this to you, Doc? Who would dare do such a thing?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “You shouldn’t protect them.”

  “I agree,” Fargo said.

  Belinda motioned at him. “This is my friend. They did the same to him, as you can see. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take us the rest of the way into town and drop us off at my house?”

  “I sure as blazes will.”

  Belinda thanked him
for being so kind and they climbed into the bed so as not to get tar all over the seat.

  As they were making themselves comfortable the farmer said, “Think nothin’ of this, Doc. You helped my Maude, remember, that time she had the croup? There’s a lot of us who are in your debt.”

  “I do what I do because I like to help people. No one is obligated to me.”

  Tilman scowled and made a fist. “I wish you’d tell me who’s to blame. I’ll round up some others and we’ll show them what we think of doin’ this to a fine lady like yourself.”

  “That’s exactly what I don’t want,” Belinda said. “More trouble on my account.” She looked pointedly at Fargo.

  Tilman sat and got his team moving. “I can’t believe it. There hasn’t been anyone tarred or feathered in Coogan County in a coon’s age. And to do it to you, of all people.”

  Fargo stayed silent. He had nothing to say, anyway, except to thank the farmer when they were let off. Tilman drove off to deliver the milk and Belinda led him around to the back and into the kitchen.

  “I don’t want to go upstairs like this. I’ll get tar all over everything. Would you mind fetching a blanket?”

  Fargo had been looking for his Colt. It wasn’t there. The McWhertles had taken it. One more thing they had to answer for.

  He found a blanket where she said one would be, in a closet upstairs, and brought it down. In the meantime she had removed her nightdress and was digging at the tar on her head.

  “This will take forever.”

  “I’ll help,” Fargo said.

  She wrapped the blanket around her and they spent over an hour wiping and scraping. By now she was mostly free of the worst of it.

  Belinda stepped to the stove. “I’ll have hot water ready in ten minutes or so. You can wash first if you’d like.”

  “There’s no hurry,” Fargo said. The McWhertles weren’t going anywhere. He went out to the Ovaro. In his saddlebags was a spare buckskin shirt and pants. He also shucked the Henry from the scabbard.

  When he went in, Belinda was crying.

  He swore under his breath and put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t let them win.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t help it.”

  A large pot of water was on the stove. Fargo set down his spare buckskins and the Henry and tested the water with his finger. It was only lukewarm. He sat in a chair to wait.