Bowie's Knife

by Jon Sharpe

  “I should think it would be obvious,” Sarah replied. “Some of us have to work our way up from nothing. Take me, for instance. Each of my spouses was richer than the last.”

  “Am I to understand that you deserted them for greener pastures?” Dandy asked.

  “No,” Sarah replied. “They died.”

  “All four?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Men don’t live as long as women. Everyone knows that.”

  “But all four?” Dandy had focused on what was going through Fargo’s mind, as well.

  “It happens,” Sarah said. “My first one got drunk and fell down a flight of stairs and broke his fool neck. My second was kicked by a horse. My third died in his sleep. His heart, the doctor said. And finally there was poor Charlie.”

  “Not so poor,” Fargo said.

  Sarah grinned. “True. He became sickly and weak and just faded away. The doctor never could figure out why.”

  Fargo noticed a coffeepot on a flat rock. He got his tin cup, and as he was filling it, he casually asked, “How long after Charlie died did Consuelo start paying you visits?”

  Sarah froze in the act of taking another swallow. “You ask the strangest damn things.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me?”

  “I don’t suppose I am.”

  “All this gab,” Lester said, “bores the hell out of me.”

  “Poor baby,” Sarah said. “Why can’t you be more like your sister instead of a pain in the ass?”

  “Go to hell, bitch.”

  “Lester!” Dandy exclaimed. “We’re her guests.”

  “That’s all right, sweetie,” Sarah said. “He’s male. He can’t help himself. They’re next to hopeless, except for one thing.”

  “What thing?” Dandy asked.

  “You’re next to hopeless, too,” Sarah said sweetly.

  Behind his cup, Fargo frowned. He was annoyed at himself. He should have caught on sooner. It explained the four husbands, and a lot more.

  “Why am I hopeless?” Dandy was asking.

  “You don’t see men for what they are.” Sarah gulped more wine.

  Fargo wondered if it was the fruit of the vine that was loosening her tongue.

  “I’m not exactly sure what you mean,” Dandy said. “Some men are nice, some aren’t. So what? Women are the same way.”

  “No, dear. All men are pigs. Plain and simple. They want one thing from women, and use us to their own ends.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Dandy said. “My father is as kind a person as ever drew breath.”

  “You forget I’ve met—” Sarah said, and caught herself.

  “Oh. That’s right. Didn’t you say you ran into him in Austin?”

  “Yes,” Sarah answered, reluctantly, it seemed to Fargo. “I had business to attend to in the capital. One night I attended the theater and there he was. We exchanged a few pleasantries.”

  Lester, who had his chin in his hand and couldn’t be bothered to take part in their talk, raised his head. “Wait a minute. He told me about that trip. You weren’t the woman who was badgering him, were you?”

  “Badgering?” Dandy repeated.

  Lester nodded. “He said that some woman pestered him no end about going out. She practically threw herself at him, was how he put it.”

  “That wasn’t me,” Sarah said.

  “Father wasn’t interested,” Lester told his sister. “He confided in me that he thought the woman was a shrew.”

  A slight flush tinged Sarah’s face.

  “It just hit me,” Fargo chimed in, “that your father is one of the few men in Texas richer than Charlie Patterson used to be.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Sarah angrily asked.

  “Beats me,” Fargo said.

  Dandy smoothed her dress and plucked at a piece of lint. “Whoever that woman was, she wasted her time. Father hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since Mother died. They were very much in love.” She smiled at Sarah. “That’s how I know you’re wrong about men. I’ve seen how Father was with her. Very caring. Very considerate.”

  “Listen, dearie—” Sarah began, but got no further.

  The rumble of hooves heralded the return of Brazos and the punchers. They forded the river fifty yards east of the camp and brought their dusty, dripping mounts to a stop in the clearing.

  Brazos was first off and strode over. “I hate to have to disappoint you, ma’am.”

  “You still can’t find them?” Sarah said.

  “Not hide nor hair.” The foreman nodded at Fargo. “We did find tracks of unshod horses. A Comanche hunting party, we reckon.” He paused. “Oh. And I sent Clay south to fetch those other fellers like you wanted.”

  “Good.” Sarah turned to Fargo. “Looks like it’ll be up to you to find the men who attacked my ranch.”

  “I don’t work for you,” Fargo said.

  “But you’re a scout, a tracker. And they stole what belongs to the woman you do work for.”

  “Her pa hired me.”

  Dandy was as surprised as Sarah. “I should think you would want to help him by finding the knife.”

  “He hired me to guide you across the badlands,” Fargo said. “Nothing more.”

  “But you went after the outlaws on your own,” Dandy reminded him. “Why not help out now?”

  Fargo decided to twist the knife, so to speak, and see what happened. “No need.” Rising, he stepped to the Ovaro, untied his bedroll, and brought it back.

  “You’re taking a nap?” Sarah scoffed.

  Kneeling, Fargo unrolled it. At the sight of the oak case, Dandy squealed in delight and Lester jumped up as if pricked by a pin.

  Sarah Patterson was a portrait in barely suppressed fury. “How in hell did you get hold of that?”

  “I found the men who took it.”

  Dandy was ecstatic. Opening the case, she ran her hand along the bowie and beamed. “This is wonderful. I can’t thank you enough. Father will be so pleased.”

  “The only one who won’t,” Fargo mentioned, staring at Sarah, “is the person who put them up to taking it.”

  If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he stood.

  24

  Dandy was so excited at having the knife back, she wanted to head to the ranch for her things and leave before nightfall for home.

  “Don’t be silly,” Sarah sought to dissuade her. “Once again it’s too late in the day. Use your head and wait until morning.”

  “I don’t want any more delays.”

  “For once I agree with my sister,” Lester said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “If you insist,” Sarah said unhappily. “I’ll have some of my men escort you to the ranch.”

  “That won’t be necessary. We have Skye to look after us.” Dandy turned to him. “We do, don’t we?”

  “I was paid to get you here and back,” Fargo said.

  “You don’t mind if we leave right this minute?”

  “Just so you savvy that you’re to do as I say at all times.”

  Dandy closed the case and patted it. “Do you expect more trouble? Didn’t you say all of them are dead?”

  “How many times have we been attacked?” Fargo reminded her. “Whoever is behind it might take it into their head to try again.”

  “All the more reason for us to go,” Lester said. “I hate all this gallivanting around. I want to be in my own room, sleep in my own bed, eat food I like to eat.”

  “What’s wrong with the food I’ve had our cook serve?” Sarah demanded.

  “Nothing. She’s just not our cook.”

  Sarah had her punchers saddle the mounts the Caventrys were using. Up to the moment they climbed on, she tried her best to talk them out of leaving. She even offered to ride to
the ranch with them if they’d only stay the night.

  “I’m sorry, but no,” Dandy said. “It’s high time we left.”

  Fargo had waited until that moment to mention what everyone else had overlooked. “Besides, you can’t leave. You’re overseeing the hunt for the killers.”

  Brazos reacted as if he’d been socked on the jaw. “Say, that’s right. You must know where they are if you stole the case from them.”

  “They’re dead,” Fargo said.

  “You found them and killed them? Were they somewhere nearby?” Brazos asked.

  “They were as far north of the ranch as you are south of it.”

  “How can that be?”

  Fargo smiled at Sarah Patterson. “Ask your boss. Maybe she can explain.” He tapped his spurs, and Dandy and Lester followed. Twisting, he looked back.

  Sarah Patterson appeared fit to explode but she smiled and waved. Her eyes were twin spikes in Fargo’s back.

  “God Almighty, I’m glad to be shed of that woman,” Lester said. “She’s too damned bossy.”

  “Don’t be so hard on her,” Dandy chided. “She only has our best interests at heart.”

  Fargo couldn’t help thinking that if Dandy was as good at telling the age of knives as she was at reading people, there was no way in hell the bowie was genuine.

  Twilight was mantling the prairie when they drew rein at the hitch rail at the ranch house.

  Ever-dutiful Miquel waited on the Caventrys hand and foot. He offered to have Esmeralda prepare a quick meal, and over Lester’s objections, Dandy accepted.

  “I don’t want to ride half the night on an empty stomach,” she explained.

  Neither did Fargo. The pair didn’t know it yet but this would be the last they got to relax for a considerable spell. While they waited in the parlor for the food to cook, he went out on the porch and scanned the horizon to the south. So far there was no sign of pursuit.

  He went to the stable. Their packhorse was in a stall at the rear. He brought it out, tied on their packs, and brought the horse to the house.

  The meal took longer than he liked.

  Lester, who had complained about having to eat, was the one who dawdled.

  Finally Fargo stood up and announced that he and Dandy were leaving, and Lester could come or not.

  Night had fallen. A host of stars shimmered in the Texas sky. Now and then a coyote raised a lament, and over by the woodshed an owl hooted.

  “How safe is it to ride in the dark?” Lester asked as they passed the last of the outbuildings. “I haven’t done much of it.”

  “It’s safer than staying here,” Fargo said.

  “Why are you so convinced we’ll have more trouble?” Dandy asked.

  “Because I have a hunch this was never about the knife.”

  “Then what?”

  “We’ll talk later.” Fargo wanted to put as much distance as he could behind them. He brought the Ovaro to a trot and heard Dandy say something he didn’t catch.

  The country was mostly open. They encountered a lot of cows, usually bunched up and bedded down.

  Lester was his usual wonderful self. He complained that he couldn’t see well in the dark. He complained that the breeze made him cold. He complained when Fargo informed them that they weren’t going to stop until about midnight.

  Fargo abided it as long as he could and ended the bitching with a flat, “Shut the hell up, boy.”

  It was ten o’clock, or thereabouts, when Dandy brought her horse up and raised her voice to say, “We’re not heading for San Gabriel, are we?”

  “Figured that out, did you?”

  “I know the Big Dipper points at the North Star and we’ve been riding toward it since we started.” Dandy paused. “San Gabriel is to the west.”

  “They’ll expect us to go that way and lose half a day or more before they realize their mistake.”

  “Who will?” Dandy studied him. “Why do I have the feeling you’re playing some sort of game?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Be honest with me. What are our chances of making it home alive?”

  “It depends on how many come after us.”

  An hour and a half later Fargo decided they had come far enough. He’d prefer a cold camp but Dandy mentioned how hungry she was and Lester grumbled that he couldn’t get to sleep “without something warm in my belly.”

  Fargo kindled a small fire in a gully. He put beans on, and despite the late hour, coffee to wash it down. As they sat waiting, Dandy cleared her throat.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you told us what’s going on?”

  “You know things we don’t, don’t you?” Lester said.

  “I have hunches,” Fargo said. “If she sends more gun hands after us, then it proves I’m right.”

  “She?” Lester said.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Dandy said. “Who else but Sarah Patterson? Why would she want us dead, though? That makes no sense.”

  “She knows I suspect,” Fargo said.

  “Suspect what, for God’s sake?” Lester asked.

  “That she doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Oh, that explained a lot,” Lester said glibly, and swore.

  Dandy turned. “Will you shut up and let him finish?”

  “It’s like this,” Fargo began. “She’s had four husbands. Each was richer than the last. And it could be their deaths weren’t accidents or natural.”

  “You’re saying she killed them?”

  “And the man who ran the Mexican rancho she made part of the Bar P, and some of his vaqueros. Who knows how many others?”

  “But why would she want us dead? I’m sure as hell not going to marry her,” Lester said.

  “Neither is your pa, and that’s why you’re sitting there.”

  “Oh, my God.” Dandy grasped what he was saying. “Her trip to Austin!”

  Fargo nodded. “She set her sights on your father and went there to woo him. Only he wasn’t interested. For once her charms didn’t work.”

  “But he wasn’t mean to her or anything,” Lester said. “He told me himself that he was firm but gentle when he refused her invites to her room. His very words.”

  “Her room?” Dandy said.

  “Gentle or not,” Fargo remarked, “Sarah Patterson took it as an insult. Some ladies do. They get so mad, they’re out for blood.”

  Dandy’s forehead was furrowed in thought. “When she contacted him about the knife, was she hoping she could change his mind?”

  “The only thing she wants with him now,” Fargo said, “is to make him suffer.”

  “How?” Lester asked skeptically. “By selling him a knife that didn’t really belong to Jim Bowie?”

  “Don’t you get it yet?” Dandy answered before Fargo could. “All the attempts on our lives. She intends to make Father pay for spurning her by doing us in.”

  “That’s far-fetched, don’t you think?” Lester responded. “Who goes to that extreme?”

  “She does,” Fargo said.

  Lester considered that, and said, “Hold on a minute. Those first bandits were after the money they thought we were carrying.”

  “She didn’t know you had a bank draft.”

  “Once she found out we did,” Dandy said, “the next bunch she sent tried to kill us outright.”

  “But they took the damn knife,” Lester said.

  “To make it seem that was what they were after,” Fargo explained. “In case your father sent the law to look into it.”

  “Dear God, she’s devious,” Dandy said.

  Lester was still dubious. “All this is guesswork. You don’t have any proof.”

  “We’ll know tomorrow or the next day whether I’m right or not,” Fargo said.

  “How?”

  “Another pack of curly wolves
will be out to blast us to pieces.”

  25

  They came riding hard and purposeful out of the south. That there were eight of them wasn’t a surprise. That one was a woman shouldn’t have surprised Fargo but did.

  “There are so many,” Dandy said, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

  Lester gulped. “You and your goddamn hunches,” he growled at Fargo.

  They were on their bellies at the rim of a low bluff, the only eminence for miles around.

  “We have an edge,” Fargo said.

  “Because we’re higher than they are?” Lester sscoffed.

  “No,” Fargo said. “Our edge is that they don’t know we know.”

  Lester, as usual, didn’t savvy. “What difference does that make? They’ll shoot us to ribbons. Or whatever horrible end that bitch has in store for us.”

  “Why is she with them?” Dandy wondered. “Why take the risk?”

  “You keep forgetting,” Fargo said. “She’s killed about half a dozen men, maybe more. She likes it. She likes to see their faces as they die.”

  “You don’t know that,” Lester said.

  “It would make her a monster,” Dandy declared. “A living, breathing monster.”

  “Not for long,” Fargo said. Not if he could help it. He started to slide back but Dandy put her hand on his arm.

  “Hold on. You’re fixing to kill her?”

  “She’s fixing to kill us.”

  “But she’s female,” Dandy said. “Shouldn’t we try to take her alive and turn her over to the law?”

  “You can if you want,” Fargo said. “Me, I’m blowing her brains out.”

  Lester laughed. “At last we agree on something.”

  The south side of the bluff was a sheer face of dirt and rocks but the north end had long since buckled, creating a slope overgrown with grass. Fargo went down it in long bounds to their horses at the bottom. The siblings came slower.

  Shucking the Henry, Fargo fed a cartridge in. “You two stay here.”

  “Can’t we help?” Dandy asked, and patted her handbag. “I have my six-shooter.”

  “Only if they get past me.” Fargo ran back to the top and flattened a yard from the rim so Patterson and her killers wouldn’t see him.