Beartooth Incident tt-332

by Jon Sharpe

  Fargo suppressed the urge to grin. “No.”

  “Not ever in your entire life long?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Oh.”

  They rode in silence for a bit save for the clomp of the sorrel’s hooves and the swish of the snow. Ahead, a flurry of black wings rose from the first of the dead wolves.

  “How do they do that?” Mary wondered. “How do they find dead things to eat in all this vast emptiness?”

  Fargo shrugged again. He liked rubbing against her. “Buzzards have their ways.”

  A half dozen were feasting on the second wolf. They rose into the air as Fargo rode up.

  “Look at that. They’ve picked it down to the bone. Another week and you’d never know there had been a live animal.”

  Fargo couldn’t seem to stop grunting. He rode on, to near the bottom of the cliff, and gazed up in wonder, amazed he had survived the fall.

  “You slid over that?” Mary asked.

  Fargo pointed at the hole in the snow where he had hit. The proximity of several boulders made him queasy.

  “You were awful lucky. Either that, or the Good Lord was watching over you.”

  “Don’t start with that miracle stuff.”

  “As you wish. But you’ve got to admit you’re lucky to be breathing.”

  “We all are,” Fargo said. He reined along the base of the mountain and presently came on horse tracks that came down the slope and pointed in the direction of the Harper place.

  “Tull’s,” Mary guessed.

  There were no others. Nor did Fargo find any in the circuit he made of the valley. Eventually they came back to the stream, and Fargo stopped to let the sorrel drink. They both climbed down. He stepped to the water and saw that it was frozen along the edges. All it would take was for the temperature to fall a few more degrees and the entire stream would freeze.

  Mary had her arms around herself and was stamping her feet. He could see her breath.

  “Mercy me, it’s cold. I can’t wait to sit next to the fire.”

  The cold didn’t bother Fargo as much. He was used to it. But it gave him second thoughts about a notion he was entertaining. He sighed in disappointment, and they climbed back on and rode to the corral. She waited while he stripped the sorrel, and she opened the door for him since his hands were full with the saddle and saddle blanket.

  Nelly and Jayce bounded over to meet them and pestered their mother with questions about what they had seen on their ride. When Jayce heard about the buzzards, he wanted to go shoot them, but Mary told him that buzzards had to eat, too, and to leave them be. She put the coffeepot on to reheat and told Fargo to sit in a chair in front of the hearth.

  Fargo extended his legs and felt the warmth creep up his boots to his ankles. He had a few decision to make, and he was deep in thought when Mary brought a steaming cup over. “We need to talk. Pull up a chair.”

  “No need.” Mary sank down with her elbows on her knees and gazed up at him. The firelight lent her face a soft beauty fit to be captured on canvas. “I’m all ears.”

  Fargo took a slow sip. She was more than ears. She was as fine a woman as he ever met, and he found himself growing more fond of her than he should. He admired the luster of her hair and the fullness of her lips, and shook himself.

  “Is something the matter?” Mary asked. “Didn’t I make the coffee strong enough?”

  “It’s fine.” Then, to take his mind off her and her hair, Fargo said, “We need to be clear on a few things. Do you and your kids realize what it will be like when we leave?”

  Mary glanced at where Nelly and Jayce were playing dominoes at the table. “We want it more than anything.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Sorry. What?”

  “It’s the dead of winter, Mary. Game will be hard to come by. We could starve before we make it out of the Beartooths. Or freeze to death. It won’t be easy.”

  “We’re aware of that. But we’re willing to take the chance if you’re willing to help us.”

  “Then there are the horses. Cud Sten won’t hand them over to us. We’ll have to take them. And he won’t let us do that while he’s still breathing. You know what that means. And your kids will be caught in the middle. Do you want that?”

  “Can I live with the killing? Do I accept all the risks? Is that what you’re asking me?”

  Fargo almost grunted. Instead, he nodded.

  Mary gazed into the fire. “There was a time when I’d have been horrified. I never liked the idea of killing. The meat on my plate when I was growing up? I refused to think of how it got there.” She smiled a wistful smile. “But living out here has taught me how silly I was. The real world isn’t as nice as we like to pretend it is. Everything kills in order to survive. Killing is as much a part of life as, well, life itself. So the idea no longer shocks me.”

  “Then you can do what you’ll have to?”

  “So long as you promise to keep Nelly and Jayce out of it as much as possible. I don’t want them in any danger if it can be helped.”

  Fargo drummed his fingers on the chair. That changed things. He’d figured to let the Sten gang ride in and, when they were nice and comfortable, catch them off guard. But now she only left him one choice. “I’ll ride out to meet them before they get here.”

  “Just you against Cud and all his men?”

  “It’s the only way to keep the kids out of it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m making things harder for you, aren’t I? We can do it some other way.”

  “That’s the thing,” Fargo said. There was no other way that would ensure that the kids were out of danger. Even at that, he couldn’t guarantee it would turn out as he planned. He mentioned as much.

  “I understand, and I thank you for being so honest with me. You have some fine qualities about you, Mr. Fargo. Offering to help us and not expecting anything in return.”

  “I never said that.” Fargo roamed his eyes over her body in a manner that left no doubt what he was thinking.

  “Oh, my.” Mary coughed. “You come right out with it, don’t you?”

  “A man never gets a woman to part her legs by being shy.”

  “Is that all it would be to you? A bout of animal lust? Another poke to add to your tally?”

  “For me it would be all there is that counts in this life.” Fargo grinned. “Fine whiskey comes close.”

  Despite herself, Mary returned the grin. “You are a silver-tongued devil, I’ll give you that. But I need you to understand. It won’t be easy for me. I’ve never done anything like this in all my life.”

  “I’m not forcing you.” Fargo wanted that clear.

  “Oh, I know. I’m a fish, and you’re holding out a worm and leaving it to me to decide whether I take the bait or not.”

  “No. You’re a woman who hasn’t been with a man in a year, and I’m a man who likes women.”

  “That’s all there is? Our feelings don’t enter into it?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  Mary didn’t seem to hear him. “I mean, yes, I’m a woman. And to a woman, feelings are important. We don’t just do it. Well, maybe some women do, for money, mostly, but I’ve never done that, and I never will. I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t have it in me.”

  “All you have to say is no.”

  His voice seemed to startle her. She glanced up and then quickly looked away. “I didn’t say that. I’m only making clear how hard something like this is for someone who only ever gave herself to one man her whole life. Can you appreciate that? What it’s like for me?”

  Fargo nodded. “You’re trying to decide whether you want to let down your hair for an hour or keep bottling it up.”

  Mary was spared having to reply by Jayce, who came skipping over to announce that he had beaten his sister at dominoes.

  “That’s nice, son, but you shouldn’t gloat. Be as courteous when you win as you are when you lose.”

  “When I lose I’m grumpy.”


  Mary tousled his hair and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you keep our guest company while I fix supper? And tonight when I tuck you in, I have a special surprise.”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  Mary stood and patted his head and moved toward the counter.

  “Ever notice, Mr. Fargo, how girls talk your ears off except when you want them to say something?”

  “Learned that already, have you?” Fargo chuckled. “It’s one of the three great lessons of life.”

  “What are the other two?”

  “Always fold when the other player asks for one card and then wets himself raising.”

  “I don’t get that. What’s the other lesson?”

  “Never try to talk a dove out of her price. She’ll take it as an insult and only pretend she likes it.”

  Jayce scratched his head. “Gosh. I don’t get that one, either. Where did you learn these lessons?”

  “I learned the one about folding in St. Louis. I stayed in and lost nearly every cent I had to a full house.”

  “I don’t know what that is. And the bird?”

  “The bird?” Fargo repeated, and snorted. “No, not that kind of dove. The doves I’m talking about don’t have feathers.”

  “Naked birds? They have such a thing?”

  “Did your pa ever have a special talk with you?”

  “We had a lot of talks. About farming and hunting and fishing and the stars and how frogs are tadpoles before they’re frogs and why some caterpillars change into butterflies and how come people snore.”

  “The talk I’m thinking of was about where babies come from. Or maybe it was calves and foals.”

  Jayce brightened. “We had that talk, too. Pa sat me down one day and got all serious and said he was going to tell me how Nelly and me came into the world.”

  “What did he say?”

  “The stork brought us.”

  “Go away.”

  “What?”

  “Go play with your sister.”

  “Why? What did I do? Don’t you like storks?”

  “I want to take a nap before we eat.” Fargo was feeling tired from the long ride. He wasn’t quite himself yet.

  “Oh. Sure.” Jayce took a step, then stopped. “I miss my pa. I miss our talks. You remind me of him a little. And I thank you for the lessons, even if they didn’t make any kind of sense.”

  “Your mother wouldn’t happen to have a whiskey bottle hidden around here somewhere, would she?”

  “Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

  10

  The children were asleep and their door was closed. Flames crackled in the stone hearth. Outside, the night wind shrieked down off the mountains and on across the valley. Wolves tried to compete and couldn’t.

  Fargo sat in a chair facing the fireplace. His eyes were closed, his chin bobbed. He was tired and ready for bed. It had been a long day. He’d held up well, but it would be a few days yet before he recovered enough from his wounds to be his old self. A noise made him turn his head. It came from the bedroom he was using: Mary’s bedroom. She had excused herself a while ago and gone in. She didn’t say why. He figured she was getting ready for bed.

  Supper had consisted of another chicken and fresh bread. Fargo had taken small portions and didn’t ask for seconds so there was enough for all of them. The kids had been too busy stuffing their faces to notice. If Mary did, she didn’t say anything.

  Fargo stared into the dancing flames. He needed a good night’s sleep so he could get an early start. He had a plan—a crazy plan as Mary called it—but if it worked, she and the kids would be free to go wherever their hearts desired, and be free of the claws of Cud Sten, as well.

  Another noise from the bedroom caused Fargo to turn, and for a few seconds he was breathless with desire. Then he caught himself and quietly asked, “You did all that for me?”

  Mary Harper had changed into a nightgown. Where many gowns were loose-fitting and bulky, this was tight and scandalously sheer. It was bright red, matching the red of her cheeks. She had brushed her hair and done things with her face so that she appeared as fresh as a new-bloomed daisy. Nervously clasping her hands in front of her, she said demurely, “Frank got this for me so I could treat him now and then, as he put it.”

  Fargo’s estimation of the man rose considerably.

  “I know I don’t look like much but it’s the very best thing I own.”

  “Come here,” Fargo huskily requested.

  With a glance at the door to the kids’ bedroom, she crossed and stood timidly beside the chair, her eyes downcast.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I told you. The only other man I’ve ever been with was Frank. I’m scared out of my wits. You’d think I wouldn’t be, given I’ve had two kids and all. But this is nothing like being married. This is”—Mary paused as if seeking the right word—“exciting.”

  Fargo put his hand on her wrist.

  “Wait. There are rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “I don’t want Nelly and Jayce to hear us. We have to be quiet. And we go in my bedroom and throw the bolt so one of them doesn’t walk in on us. And if they knock, we stop right away and I get dressed and get out of bed to see what they want.”

  “Anything else?”

  Her eyes were pools of uncertainty. “You won’t hurt me, will you? I mean, you’re not one of those? My Frank was always gentle. That’s how I like it. Nice and easy and gentle.”

  “I’m not Frank,” Fargo said, and pulled her into his lap. She resisted for the briefest instant. Then her bottom was on his manhood and his mouth was molded to hers. She gasped and in doing so parted her lips, enabling him to slide his tongue into her mouth.

  Mary was momentarily taken aback. She pressed against his shoulders, but not hard, and cooed deep in her throat. Slowly, she melted against him, until her mouth was molten with need.

  They kissed and they kissed. It was Fargo who broke for air. Mary rested her cheek on his chest and shook from head to toe.

  “Oh, my.”

  “What?”

  “Frank never kissed like that.”

  “I’m not Frank,” Fargo repeated. He caressed her hair and ran his other hand down to the small of her back. She sat still, her hands in her lap, a frightened bird ready to take wing. “You can relax.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. If my children caught us, I’d be embarrassed beyond tears. They mean everything to me, Skye. And I do mean everything.”

  Mary gazed about the room. “We may not have much but we’ve always had love and respect. I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

  Fargo could take a hint. Scooping her into his arms, he rose and moved toward her bedroom.

  “There’s no need to carry me. I can walk.”

  “I’ve known chipmunks that chattered less,” Fargo said by way of making her hush.

  “I can’t help it. It’s all I can do to keep from trembling like a newlywed.” Mary touched a fingertip to his lips. “Be patient with me, please. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

  Fargo set her on her feet and she timidly craned her neck to kiss him. He slid his hands behind her, gripped her bottom, and ground against her.

  “Goodness! Be gentle, remember?”

  Fargo squeezed her harder, then hauled off and gave her bottom a slap. She arched her back and her eyes widened in surprise . . . and something else.

  “You call that gentle?”

  Roving a hand to her belly, Fargo rubbed in circles until his hand brushed a breast. He covered it with his palm. Her nipple was growing as hard as a tack. When he pinched it, her eyelids fluttered and she mewed in delight. “Liked that, did you?”

  “You make me tingle.”

  Fargo intended to do a lot more than that. He eased her onto the bed on her back and was about to spread out next to her.

  “The bolt, remember?”

  Grumbling, Fargo hurried to the door and back again. He remove
d his spurs. He’d torn apart more than a few quilts, blankets, and sheets in his time, and she didn’t have any to spare.

  “Lord, I hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. If words get around, I’ll have men crawling out of the woodwork, thinking I’m easy.”

  “Who is there to tell?” Fargo unbuckled his gun belt and set it to one side. He was rock-hard under his pants, so hard it hurt, a delicious hurt he could never get enough of. He commenced kissing her; her throat, her cheeks, her brow. Her body grew hot. She squirmed in rising delight and sank her fingernails into his shoulders.

  Fargo’s mouth found hers. He covered her mounds and kneaded them through the sheer fabric of her nightgown. She bit his bottom lip as if trying to devour him, then suddenly drew back, her eyes widening in horror.

  “Oh, no.”

  Not having any idea what she was upset about, and not caring to stop, Fargo went to nuzzle her neck and was surprised when she pushed against his chest, stopping him. “What’s the matter?”

  “I bit you so hard, there’s a drop of blood.”

  Fargo didn’t understand why she was so disturbed. “Bite me all you want. Just so you don’t rip my throat open.”

  “I didn’t mean to do it.”

  Drawing back, Fargo stared. “A drop of blood never hurt anybody. What’s really got you upset?”

  “I—” Mary hesitated. “I lost control.”

  “All you did was bite me.”

  “I never bit Frank’s lip.”

  “I keep telling you I’m not Frank. Bite me, claw me, pull my hair out—it won’t make me faint.”

  “It’s not you,” Mary said. “It’s me.”

  “I don’t savvy.”

  “Aren’t you listening? I lost control. I got so excited, I bit you without thinking. I’ve never, ever done that my whole life.”

  “Calm down. It’s not as if you ripped my clothes off and had your way with me.”

  “That’s just it. I want to.”

  To Fargo’s delight, she threw an arm around his neck and pulled him to her. She kissed him fiercely, moaning all the while, and did the last thing he expected her to do: She reached between his legs and cupped his rigid pole. Her lips and her body were living fire. She didn’t so much make love to him as consume him.