by Jon Sharpe
“Would you expect less of me, Esther?”
Esther made a show of smoothing her dress while saying, “If I did I wouldn’t be here.”
James turned to the open door of the stagecoach. “And how about you, my dear? Surely you don’t intend to sit in there all night?”
Another female face appeared. This one was much more appealing. Yellow hair and blue eyes lent an angelic aspect. Her clothes were not as costly as Esther’s but they still set her back a pretty penny. Instead of taking James’s proffered hand, she stepped down herself. “It will take longer than one night and you know it.”
“True, Gretchen,” James responded. “Up to ten days if all goes well, longer if there are delays.”
“I hope they refuse,” Gretchen said.
James and Landreth both laughed and James said, “The Mindels refuse to save their precious pride and joy? I think not. In ten days time I’ll have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life.”
From his hiding place Fargo was the only one who saw Moon and Conklin once again swap looks.
“You’re despicable,” Gretchen said.
Esther stopped fussing with her clothes and smacked her small hand against her thin leg. “That’s enough. Do you hear me? I put up with you sulking the whole way here but it must stop.”
“Being abducted will do that.”
“There you go again.” Esther shook her head. “I honestly expected better of you. You don’t see me pouting and acting immature.”
Moon stuck his thumbs in his gun belt and sauntered over. They didn’t notice until he poked James with a finger. “Enough of this gab. My men and me have been in the saddle since before dawn and we’re tuckered out. We need to find a place to sleep.”
“The rudeness,” Landreth said.
James motioned. “No, he has a point. It’s been a long day for all of us. I say we find rooms for the ladies and post a guard and then the rest of us will turn in.”
“A guard?” Gretchen repeated.
“It’s for your own good, really. Ghost towns are not always empty.” James pointed at the Ovaro. “Case in point.”
“Who does that belong to?” Esther asked.
“We have no idea. Mr. Moon, finding out will be your job. Have two of your men search the town while the rest carry our bags.”
Moon turned to Conklin. “You heard the man. Take Shorty with you. Nose into every cranny. Whoever it is was bound to have heard the stage. Most folks would be curious but no one has shown up. That tells me he’s hiding.”
“He’s as good as caught,” Conklin predicted. He and the shortest of them left the stable.
“What about me?” Hornsby asked.
James and Landreth had taken the arms of the ladies and were about to escort them out. Gretchen, Fargo noticed, let Landreth take hers reluctantly.
“My word. I forgot all about you,” James said. “I leave it up to you. Would you like to find a room or stay with your stage?”
“That’s a stupid question if ever I heard one,” the cantankerous driver replied.
“No need to be insulting.”
“Sonny, what do you use for brains? You had your monkeys stop my stage at gunpoint. Then you made me drive twelve hours over a road barely fit for a Concord. And now, if I heard rightly, you said I’ll be stuck here for ten days or more. I’d say being rude is letting you off easy.”
Moon had lowered his hands to his holsters. “Did you just call me an ape, you old goat?”
“I called you a monkey but ape will do. So will bastard, son of a bitch, no account, buzzard and polecat. Take your pick.”
James said, “I’ll have none of that. Not unless you want to be tied up and gagged until the ten days are up.”
“I don’t like being called names,” Moon declared. “I never have and I never will.”
“Ignore the old goat,” James said.
“I’d like to see the peckerwood try,” Hornsby taunted.
Moon’s jaw muscles twitched. “Some folks don’t have no more sense than to talk themselves into an early grave.”
The Remingtons flashed and boomed.
5
There was nothing Fargo could do. It happened too fast. Moon was quick on the draw, one of the quickest Fargo ever saw. Even if Hornsby had been armed he wouldn’t have stood a prayer.
Moon fired from the hip. He didn’t take aim. As impressive as his speed was his accuracy. Both shots cored the driver’s head, blowing out the back of his skull and sending Hornsby toppling from the seat to the ground.
The woman called Gretchen put a hand to her throat and turned away from the grisly sight. The woman called Esther, strangely enough, laughed.
“Here now!” James said. Squatting next to the body, he uselessly felt for a pulse. “That was uncalled for, Mr. Moon.”
“I won’t be called names.”
“I told you no killing unless it was absolutely necessary. You remember that, don’t you?”
“Mister, there ain’t enough room in my noggin for all the words you use.” Moon still held his Remingtons. He swiveled toward Landreth and growled, “How about you, dandy man? You have anything to say?”
Landreth wasn’t cowed. He pointed his cane at Moon, and glared. “Don’t threaten me, you ignoramus. Shoot me and you won’t get a dollar. You’ll have gone to all this trouble for nothing.”
“It might be worth it,” Moon said.
James moved between them. “I won’t have any of this, either. We must work together, not against one another. Mr. Moon, put those away, if you please.”
“Sure, city boy.” Moon twirled the Remingtons into their holsters and hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “Happy now?”
“Very much so, yes,” James said. He stared at the dead stage driver. “The authorities will charge you with murder over this. You’ll have to bury the body.”
“How will the law know I did it unless someone tells them?” Moon rejoined.
“Whether they do or they don’t isn’t the point. I don’t like that you have unwittingly given them more cause to hunt us down.”
“Unwitting—what? Are you saying I’m stupid?”
“Quit putting words in my mouth.” James turned to him. “You agreed to my terms when I hired you and one of those terms was no killing.”
“You keep saying that. Now let me remind you.” Moon grated his next words through clenched lips. “Insult me and die.”
“This is getting us nowhere. We need to cooperate if we are to get through this safely. I’m bound for Europe, afterward, and you”—James paused—“What will you do with your share of the money?”
“What I always do with money. Drink, gamble and buy me some whores. A whole lot of whores.”
“How vulgar,” Esther remarked.
“Another damn insult,” Moon said.
“Enough.” James took Esther’s arm. “Come, my dear. We’ll see about rooms for the two of you. For however long we are here, I’ll do all in my power to make your stay as comfortable as humanly possible.”
Landreth reached for Gretchen but she pulled her arm free. “I can walk without your help, thank you very much.”
Esther tittered. “Must you make such a fuss? Try to get along. It will make our stay easier to bear.”
“Speak for yourself.”
James guided Esther around a spreading pool of blood. “Come on. Mr. Moon, don’t forget the firewood. Roy, bring a lantern, if you would. I’m tired and need rest.”
Landreth took a lantern from one of Moon’s men and the two city men and the ladies departed.
From his hiding place Fargo saw Moon scowl and then heard him say, “High and mighty city folk. I don’t like any of them even a little bit.”
One of the remaining men in slickers said, “They sure are uppity.”
“It comes from being rich, Tucker,” Moon said. “They reckon they should be treated special for being born with silver spoons in their mouths.”
“I’d like to have
a silver spoon in mine,” Tucker said. “I could sell it for drinking money.”
Moon looked at him and grinned. “That’s why I keep you around. We think alike.”
“Want Beck and me to see to the burying?”
“Bury, hell. Why bother?” Moon went over and kicked Hornsby’s mortal remains. “Drag his carcass off into the woods and cover it with a few leaves and branches.”
“The coyotes and buzzards are bound to get to it.”
“So? Critters have to eat the same as the rest of us.” Moon started for the doors. “Gather some firewood while you’re at it. We might as well do our part until the money gets here.”
Tucker bent and gripped one of Hornsby’s arms. Beck was holding a lantern and used his free hand to grab the other. Together they hauled the body out, leaving a scarlet trail in their wake.
The stable plunged into darkness.
Fargo stayed where he was, pondering. Apparently the two women had been abducted. For ransom, from the sound of things. He remembered Serilda had made a remark about expecting someone to show up, and he wondered if this was what she meant.
Fargo had a decision to make. He could saddle the Ovaro and sneak off and leave this whole mess for the law to clean up. That was the smart thing to do. These people meant nothing to him. He didn’t know Esther or Gretchen. He barely knew Serilda and Maxine.
Whatever they were up to was none of his concern.
Warily, Fargo rose and stepped to the front of the stall. His saddle and saddle blanket were in easy reach. He didn’t need light to throw them on the stallion. He had done it so many times, he could do it blindfolded.
Fargo hesitated. He thought of the look on Gretchen’s face when Hornsby was shot. He thought of Maxine and her perfect face and body and Serilda with her black curls and full lips, and he said quietly to himself, “Damn me for a fool.”
Hunkering, Fargo removed his spurs. He went to put them in his saddlebags and realized he had left the saddlebags in the saloon.
Annoyed at his carelessness, he placed his spurs in a corner of the stall where they were less likely to be noticed. Then he crept to the open doors and peered out.
Down the street Conklin and Shorty were going from building to building, searching. James and Landreth and the ladies had stopped in front of the millinery and were talking. Moon was ambling toward them. No one was looking toward the stable.
Staying close to the wall, Fargo eased out. He came to the corner and heard low voices and risked a peek.
Tucker and Beck were dragging the body into the forest.
“Damn, this old coot is heavy,” the latter complained.
“We won’t take him far,” Tucker said. “Just so the smell won’t bother us when he gets ripe.”
Fargo cat-footed on. He stayed in the darkest patches and stopped whenever anyone down the street glanced in his direction. He made it to the saloon undetected and slipped under the batwing and over to the table where he had left his saddlebags.
They weren’t there.
Fargo ran his hands over the top of the table to be sure, and swore. He didn’t think the newcomers were to blame. That left Maxine or Serilda or their pa.
He crossed to the hallway. It was so dark he had to feel his way. He checked the room on the right and the room on the left. Both were empty. That left the room at the end. It was open a few inches and as he came up he felt another puff of cool air. Pushing, he entered and went from wall to wall, lightly knocking every few feet. He wanted to pound harder but they’d hear out in the street.
Fargo was convinced there must be a secret way in and out. It was the only explanation for how Serilda and her father had disappeared. But the walls seemed solid. He squatted and was about to check the floor when he heard voices from out at the front.
Rising, Fargo hurried out. He’d gone only a few steps when the saloon was splashed by the rosy glow of lantern light. Boots thumped, and someone laughed. Wheeling, he retreated into the back room and closed the door nearly all the way.
“. . . will do as good as anywhere. Have them fetch their bedrolls.”
Fargo recognized Moon’s voice. It was Conklin who answered.
“I’ll get yours and mine.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t savvy how you didn’t find anyone.”
“Me either. Shorty and me went through every building.”
“That horse in the stable didn’t put itself there.”
“Maybe it belongs to the freak or his girls.”
“I doubt they even own a horse,” Moon said. “Him and his moles don’t have any need for one.”
Fargo wondered what they were talking about. Conklin’s next remark provided a clue.
“They sure are the prettiest moles I ever did see. I wouldn’t say no to a poke with either one. No offense.”
“That’s all you ever think of. Poking.”
“A man takes them where he can get them,” Conklin said.
“Don’t try with them.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. Those dogs give me a scare. They can rip a man’s throat without half trying.”
“Maxine better keep them out of sight,” Moon said. “I don’t want it spoiled.”
“Only you would think of something like this,” Conklin said by way of praise. “You’re the cleverest cuss I ever met.”
“A chance like this doesn’t come along but once in a man’s life, if that. I’d be a fool to let it slip through my fingers.”
“I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.”
“Just don’t give it away before the riders get here. Remind the others to keep their mouths shut. I’ll kill the man who spoils it.”
“We want it as much as you do.”
“All my life I’ve hoped for a break like this.” A chair scraped, and then Moon said, “Collect everybody. I want to go over it again so they have it clear in their heads.”
“We’ve talked it to death,” Conklin said. “We’ll play along just like you told us.”
“Collect them, I said.”
“Right away.” Boots thudded and the saloon became quiet. Fargo opened the door another few inches and saw Moon at the table, boots propped up, staring out the window. A lantern was beside him.
Fargo was tired of the cat and mouse. Since he couldn’t find any other way out, he either had to stay hid until Moon and his friends left or show himself.
To hell with it, he thought. Just as he came to the main room, a board creaked under his boot.
Moon came out of the chair lightning swift. His hands swooped to his Remingtons but he didn’t draw. He stared hard at Fargo and then demanded, “Who the hell are you?”
“You first.”
Moon looked him up and down. “When I ask a question I expect it to be answered.”
Fargo ignored him and walked to the batwing. He spied Conklin but no one else. “How many of you are there?”
Moon stepped away from the table, his hands close to his holsters. “Mister, I’d damn well look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Fargo faced him. “You’re welcome to try.”
Moon was still studying him. His dark eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched. “Folks say I’m awful quick.”
“Folks say the same about me.”
“I ain’t never been beat.”
“Makes two of us.” Fargo was amused. They were like two bulls pawing at the ground. Only he doubted Moon would try him then and there. If Moon was half as clever as Conklin claimed, Moon would want to take his measure before resorting to hot lead.
Some of the tension drained from Moon’s stance. He raised a hand and rubbed his chin. “All I want to know is who you are and what you’re doing here.”
Fargo leaned against the jamb. “I’m passing through on my way to San Francisco. I was sleeping in the back and voices woke me up.”
“That pinto in the stable must be yours.”
“It’s not a pinto but he’s mine and he better be there when I go for him,” Fargo said.<
br />
“Rest easy. I’m no rustler.” Moon leaned against the table. “They call me Moon on account of when I was younger
I used to get drunk a lot and howl at it. What do they call you?”
“Fargo.”
Moon hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “It seems to me I’ve heard that name somewhere.”
“Wells Fargo, maybe.”
“No. Somewhere else. Some names you don’t forget and that’s one of them. Help me out.”
Fargo shrugged and said, “It’s not as if I’m famous.”
“You’re sure not a gold hound. Your clothes are too clean and you don’t smell of dirt. What is it you do, exactly?”
“You’re too nosy,” Fargo said.
“I’m only asking. And I did it nice and polite.”
Fargo decided it wouldn’t matter. “I scout some. I guide wagon trains. I play cards.”
“So you’re a gambling man, are you? How about—” Moon stopped and his head snapped up.
Fargo heard it, too.
From down the street came a piercing scream.
6
Fargo was outside first. Down the street James and Landreth burst from the general store and raced toward the millinery. Conklin and Shorty came running from the far end.
Moon shoved the batwing wide. He glanced over when Fargo fell into step beside him. “I don’t recollect asking you to tag along.”
“A female screams like that, it means trouble.”
“This female ain’t none of your concern. She’s with us. We’ll take care of her.”
Fargo kept running.
“You don’t listen worth a damn.”
“I bet folks say the same about you.”
Moon actually laughed. “I’m beginning to like you, Fargo, and I can’t have that. Not when I might have to kill you.”
Conklin and Shorty were outside the millinery, and Conklin was mad. “That jackass wouldn’t let us go in,” he declared as Moon came up. “He said the ladies might not be decent.”
“Stay here.”
Moon opened the door, Fargo a step behind them. An old lamp spilled light over an empty rack that once held dresses and a small counter where the proprietor had sold them. The living quarters were at the back.
