Death Valley Vengeance

by James Reasoner

  Or maybe Sharon was telling the truth. Until he knew for sure, Fargo wasn’t going to walk into a trap.

  “Maybe you’d better explain what you mean,” he suggested.

  Sharon looked like she was about to, but before she could go on, Julia emerged from the cabin and walked toward them. Fargo saw the look of dislike that went across Sharon’s face. It was almost outright hatred.

  Julia’s expression wasn’t any friendlier when she looked at Sharon. Clearly, these two women were jealous of each other and their relationships with Arthur “Puma Jack” Slauson.

  “I’ll watch Smith now,” Julia said as she came up. “You can go back inside.”

  “It’s not any trouble—” Sharon began.

  “You’d better go,” Julia cut in. “My father might need you.”

  Sharon hesitated a moment longer, then shrugged. “Sure. I was just standing here keeping an eye on this friend of yours.” She walked toward the cabin, her back stiff.

  “I never did like that bitch,” Julia hissed as she watched Sharon go.

  Fargo could have told her that the feeling was mutual, but instead he kept quiet and waited to see what else Julia had to say.

  “What did she want?”

  “She was just watching me because Mac and Jimmy had to go talk to your father.”

  “It looked like she was talking to you about something.”

  Fargo shrugged. “Just passing the time of day. Talking about how hot it is.”

  Julia frowned, but she didn’t press the issue.

  Fargo did a little prodding of his own by asking, “How come the two of you don’t get along?”

  “I just don’t trust her. She betrayed her husband, after all. What’s to stop her from betraying my father?”

  “Well, that’s one way to look at it,” Fargo allowed. “How long were your father and Will Bradley partners?”

  “I’m not sure. Several years, at least. I lived with my mother until about four years ago, and Father and Will were already working together then and had been for quite a while.”

  She seemed to want to talk, so Fargo sat there with an interested expression on his face, clearly waiting for her to go on. That was enough encouragement.

  “You know, I should have expected that he would abandon me. He abandoned my mother, after all. Just up and left her in Kansas City with a child to raise. Oh, he sent money to us and visited every now and then, but we never knew where he was or what he was doing. He just showed up for a day or two; then he would be gone again.”

  “Must have been difficult for your mother,” Fargo commented.

  “I’m sure it was. It aged her before her time, I know that. I helped as much as I could, but there was only so much I could do.” Julia sighed. “After Mother got sick and died, Father showed up. He must have had someone keeping an eye on us, because he knew she was gone. He took me with him when he left again.”

  “What did the two of you do?”

  She gave that distinctive toss of her head. “I was eighteen years old and beautiful, if I do say so myself. What do you think we did?” Without waiting for Fargo to answer, she went on. “We swindled people, mostly men, and we were damned good at it.”

  A faint smile tugged at the corners of Fargo’s mouth. “I’ll bet you were a natural.”

  “Yes, I was. We would have done just fine without Will and Sharon, but Will was my father’s partner, and he showed more loyalty to him than he ever had to his family . . . at least for a while.”

  “And you said Sharon never liked you?”

  Julia smiled. “I said I never liked her. But she felt the same way. She hated me, in fact, because of her husband.”

  “You and Bradley . . . ?”

  “Will would have liked that, but no, he never managed to do anything except get me alone a time or two and try to kiss me. Sharon caught us one of those times, though, and took it wrong. She thought I was trying to seduce Will. She told me later to stay away from him, or she would kill me. Will, of course, let her think it was all my fault.”

  “I can see why the two of you aren’t friends,” Fargo said dryly. “What happened to break it all up?”

  “Nothing in particular. I guess my father was just waiting until they had enough money to make stealing the whole pot worthwhile. That happened up in San Francisco. When I realized that Father and Sharon were gone and knew what had happened, I got out of town before Will could get his hands on me. I knew he’d be wild with rage. I worked my way down to Los Angeles, and it took him a while to catch up to me. I guess he figured that sooner or later I’d lead him to Father. Which, of course, is exactly what I’ve done.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Fargo said. “We don’t know for sure about that.”

  “You’re right, there hasn’t been any sign of him yet. Maybe I really gave them the slip. Maybe my father wins again.” Her laugh was humorless. “He always does, one way or another.”

  After a moment or two of silence, Fargo said, “How did he wind up leading a gang of outlaws? You said he was a confidence man before. That’s not usually what folks think of as a desperado.”

  “As a young man he grew up on the Natchez Trace. You’ve heard of it?”

  Fargo nodded. A few decades earlier, the Natchez Trace had been the roughest part of the road between Natchez, Mississippi, and Nashville, Tennessee, teeming with murderers and highwaymen. In those days, more throats were cut along the Natchez Trace than anywhere else in the young, wild country.

  “He was a thief and a killer while he was still just a boy. That was where he got the name Puma Jack, in fact. So by becoming an outlaw, he was just returning to his roots, I suppose you could say. He’s always been a natural leader, and he’s ruthless enough not to let anyone stand in his way.”

  “Sounds almost like you admire him.”

  “I admire him . . . and I despise him. I love him . . . he’s my father, after all . . . and I hate him for . . . for what he did to my mother . . . and for taking me in and then deserting me for that . . . that whore . . .” Julia shook her head. “I don’t know what I think or what I feel anymore, Skye.”

  “Chuckwalla,” Fargo reminded her quietly.

  Her head jerked in a nod. “Yes, of course. Have you . . . have you figured out what you’re going to do?”

  “Not really. What do you think I ought to do?”

  She came closer to him and lowered her voice even more. “I’ve been thinking about it. I want to help you get away. After you’re gone, I’ll tell my father who you really are and warn him that he’ll have to leave Death Valley before you have time to lead a posse back here.”

  “He won’t like that,” Fargo told her.

  “No, of course not. But there won’t be anything he can do about it.”

  “Except maybe kill you,” Fargo said bluntly.

  “No. He would never do that, no matter what.”

  “You’d better be mighty certain about that, because you’d be wagering your life.”

  “I know. I’m certain.”

  “How about this?” Fargo suggested. “You help both of us escape, and you come with me back to Blackwater.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t do that. Now that I’ve found him, I have to stay with him.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive. I’m sorry, Sk—Chuckwalla.”

  Fargo hadn’t expected her to agree to his proposal, but he’d had to try. He had his doubts that Julia could actually help him escape, but he was willing to play along with her for the time being, at least until he found out what Sharon Bradley had in mind. Unlike Julia, she evidently wanted out of here.

  Fargo inclined his head toward the cabin. “My keepers are coming back.” Mac and Jimmy had come out of the cabin and were walking toward them. “We’ll talk again later.”

  Julia nodded.

  She swung around to greet the two outlaws by asking, “What did my father want?”

  Mac glowered. “He read us the riot act about sas
sin’ you. You been complainin’ about us since yesterday, gal?”

  “I just think you need to treat me with a little more respect,” Julia said haughtily.

  Jimmy tugged his hat off, exposing his red hair. “We’re sorry, ma’am,” he said, and he sounded sincere. Fargo wondered if he had finally tumbled to the fact that Julia was a beautiful young woman and decided that he ought to be playing up to her instead of resenting her. “We’ll try to be a mite nicer, won’t we, Mac?”

  Mac just grunted. He was old enough to be largely immune to Julia’s charms. Although any man still drawing breath would never be completely unmoved by the presence of a woman like Julia, Fargo thought.

  She went back to the cabin, and he resumed his casual pose leaning against the tree with his hat tipped forward. He had learned quite a bit today and would mull it over while he was waiting to see what would happen next.

  Somehow, he had a feeling that it wouldn’t take long before events broke again.

  That evening, before supper, Sharon Bradley came over and said to Fargo, “You’re eating with us tonight.”

  “Good,” Mac said. “I don’t like givin’ this fella any of our grub.”

  Fargo ignored the outlaw and got to his feet. As he walked toward the cabin with Sharon, he said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.”

  “Well, just forget about it,” she replied tightly. “I made a mistake. I was a damned fool.”

  “Why? Because you think Slauson will never let you go?”

  “He won’t. He’d kill me first.” Sharon swallowed. “With that bitch of a daughter poisoning him against me, he’s liable to kill me anyway.”

  “All the more reason for you to get out of here,” Fargo said. “I’d help you, if you helped me.”

  She glanced over at him, but she didn’t say any more. They were at the cabin. Sharon motioned for Fargo to go in first.

  The place was lit by a lantern on the table. Slauson and Julia already sat there. Fargo and Sharon joined them. The atmosphere inside the cabin was tense.

  The meal consisted of beans with chunks of salt pork floating in them, along with cornbread and coffee. Rough fare, but pretty good, Fargo thought as he dug in. Nobody talked much. When they were finished, Sharon cleared the table.

  Slauson took a couple of cigars from his pocket and slid one of them across the table to Fargo. Fargo took it and bit the end off. He smoked only occasionally, but he thought it would be a good idea to go along with Slauson for now. The man might talk and reveal more of his plans over the cigars.

  Julia got a burning twig from the fire and lit both cigars. Slauson puffed on his, blew out a cloud of smoke contentedly, and looked across at Fargo.

  “From what I’ve seen and heard, you’ve been behaving yourself just fine, Smith.”

  “I told you, I don’t have anything against you, Puma Jack,” Fargo said. “I’ll still ride away if you’ll let me, or I’ll stay here and join your gang. Your call.”

  “You’re an accommodating sort. I’ll give you that.”

  Fargo smiled thinly. “Just the sort who wants to stay alive.”

  Slauson inclined his head toward Julia. “You have an ardent defender in my daughter. She seems to think quite highly of you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “While you were bringing her out here, did anything more go on than just guiding?”

  “Father!” Julia exclaimed, blushing. “You don’t have any call to imply things like that. Mr. Smith was a perfect gentleman.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Slauson growled. “No matter what sort of façade he puts up, every man is an animal under the skin. You’d do well to remember that, Julia.”

  “Another of your lessons, Father, like how to spot a potential victim and swindle him out of everything he has?”

  Rather than looking embarrassed, Slauson grinned widely and said, “That’s right. If you listen to me, girl, you’ll never be surprised or disappointed by human nature, because you’ll know that man is capable of anything.” He turned his head and said to Sharon, “Get the jug.”

  She brought it over to the table. Fargo and Slauson smoked their cigars and passed the jug back and forth. Fargo had a pleasant glow in his belly from the whiskey, but it didn’t muddle his thinking any.

  “What is it you want with me, Slauson?” he asked.

  Slauson leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and regarded Fargo intently. “I want to figure you out,” he said. “You seem like more than just some saddle tramp. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you might be a lawman, or a military officer.”

  Fargo shook his head. “I’m neither of those things. You have my word on that.”

  He was telling the truth, as far as it went. Although he had worked closely with the army on numerous occasions, it had always been as a civilian. And even though he had worn a lawman’s badge a few times in the past, it had been a while since he’d packed a star.

  He couldn’t tell if Slauson was convinced or not. The boss outlaw rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and grunted noncommittally. He stood up and said, “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” Fargo asked as he came to his feet.

  “I’m taking you back over to Mac and Jimmy.”

  Sharon said, “Why don’t you let me do that, Jack?” Fargo thought she might want to talk to him some more about escaping from Slauson and the rest of the gang.

  But Slauson shook his head and said, “No, you stay here with Julia.”

  “Father—” Julia began.

  Slauson picked up his hat and put it on. “Do like I say, both of you. Come on, Smith.”

  When they were outside with the door of the cabin closed behind them, Slauson sighed and said, “You ever find yourself in a den with two badgers, Smith?”

  “Can’t say as I have,” Fargo replied.

  “Well, that would probably be better than being in a cabin with two women who hate each other. Count your blessings.”

  “Small words of comfort to a condemned man.”

  Slauson’s cigar tilted up at a jaunty angle. “Hell, you’re not condemned. In fact, I’m coming around to the idea of letting you ride with us for a while. For as long as you want, if you’re good enough.”

  “How will you know that until I go on a job with you?”

  “I won’t, at least not for sure,” Slauson admitted. “But I can get an idea from watching how you handle yourself. That’s why I lied to the women. I’m not taking you back to your tent. I’ve arranged for a little test instead.”

  Uneasiness prickled the hair on the back of Fargo’s neck. “A test?” he repeated.

  “That’s right.” Slauson raised his voice and called to the other outlaws, “Come on in, boys.”

  They gathered quickly around Fargo and Slauson until Fargo found himself completely ringed by desperadoes. Now he knew that Slauson was up to something, and he was equally certain that it wouldn’t be anything good.

  “It’s time for you to prove yourself, Smith,” Slauson said.

  “How do I do that?”

  Slauson crooked a finger and one of the outlaws stepped forward—a burly, bearded man in a poncho.

  “Stay alive against Rufe here,” Slauson said. “He likes to break a fella’s neck and then twist it right off his shoulders.”

  “Yeah,” the outlaw called Rufe said in a rumbling voice. “I do.”

  “Trial by fire, eh?” Fargo said.

  “You could call it that. I prefer to think of it as survival of the fittest.”

  “A fight to the death, then?” Fargo wanted to know.

  “Not really. Rufe is allowed to kill you, if he can, but I can’t afford to lose him. Make sure he stays alive, Smith. If he dies, you’ll be dead five seconds later.”

  “Seems to me like the deck’s stacked against me,” Fargo said tautly.

  “Just like everything else in life.” Slauson nodded curtly and stepped back. “Get to it.”<
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  Rufe took his broad-brimmed hat off and handed it to one of the other outlaws, then started to pull his poncho over his head.

  Fargo didn’t wait. Even though it went against the grain to strike while his opponent wasn’t ready, he launched himself forward and aimed a kick at Rufe’s groin.

  The big man twisted aside and took the kick on his meaty thigh, roaring in pain and anger as he did so. As he tried to jerk the poncho over his head, it got tangled and hung there, blinding him for a moment. Fargo used that time to hammer in a couple of punches, a left to the belly and a right over the heart.

  Rufe seemed to barely feel the blows. They didn’t stagger him—that was for sure. He finally tore the poncho off his head and charged toward Fargo like a runaway freight train.

  Fargo dove out of the way, trailing a leg behind him so that Rufe would stumble over it. Rufe cursed sulfurously as he stumbled and went to his hands and knees. Fargo rolled over and came up on his feet in one smooth, agile move. The toe of his boot thudded into Rufe’s ribs and sent the big man sprawling.

  By now the outlaws gathered around were roaring their encouragement to Rufe. Slauson called to Fargo, “You fight dirty!”

  Fargo paused just long enough to respond, “Like a man fighting to stay alive!” Then he went after Rufe again.

  This time Rufe was ready for him, though. The big man’s hands shot up and grabbed Fargo’s ankle. With a grunt and a heave, he sent Fargo flying through the air.

  Some of the outlaws who had been crowding in close scattered as Fargo came toward them. He hit the ground hard and rolled over a couple of times. Half-stunned, he lay there for a second, until the rush of feet warned him that Rufe was coming after him now.

  Fargo pushed himself over onto his back and lifted both legs as Rufe leaped at him. The heels of Fargo’s boots dug into Rufe’s belly, causing the breath to explode from the big man’s mouth. Bracing himself against the ground, Fargo used his legs to lever Rufe up and over him.

  The men who were in Rufe’s path didn’t have time to get out of his way. With a wild yell and flailing arms and legs, Rufe sailed through the air and crashed into several of the outlaws. All of them went down in a tangle.