Wyoming Winterkill

by Jon Sharpe

  The man turned to stone.

  “Jesus!” the one with the scar blurted. “I never saw anyone slick leather so fast.”

  “The next person points a gun at me,” Fargo warned, “takes lead.”

  “I knew you ride with Tar,” Hortense spat.

  “Let down the hammer,” Fargo said, and when she reluctantly complied, he told her, “Now set it down, nice and slow.”

  “In the snow?”

  “Do it.”

  Her lips a slit, Hortense obeyed.

  Fargo addressed Jacob Coarse. “Now you and your friends.”

  “Damn it,” Coarse said. “You ask a lot.”

  “Who’s asking?” Fargo said.

  They didn’t like it but the Colt was a great persuader.

  “I’ll be back with the troopers in a couple of hours,” Fargo said. “Stay put until they get here.” He began to back off.

  “Wait,” Josephine said. “Take us with you. Hortense and me.”

  Both Hortense and Jacob Coarse said, “What?” at the same time.

  Heedless of the Colt and the Henry, Josephine put her hand on Fargo’s arm.

  “Please. I wouldn’t feel safe. We left the wagon train to get away from this man.” Josephine nodded at the wagon master.

  “Silly talk,” Coarse said. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Besides strand us in the mountains?” Josephine retorted. “Besides insist we not try to make our way out until the weather thaws? Despite do nothing when our people disappear?”

  “Damn, girl,” Coarse said. “You make me sound next to worthless.”

  “If the shoe fits,” Josephine said.

  “What about your friend?” Fargo asked. “How does she feel?”

  Hortense answered for herself. “I won’t shoot you in the back, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If there really are soldiers, I’ll be damn glad.”

  One of the men started to say something and Jacob Coarse made a sharp gesture, silencing him. Coarse then said, “If they’re going, we’ll go, too. Just to make sure you are who you say you are.”

  That was fine by Fargo. He’d rather have them all where he could see them. “Fetch your horses. Your rifles go in the scabbards. You ride in front of me until we get there. Once we head out, no one turns back.”

  “Who do you think you are?” the man with the scar said. “Bossing us around.”

  Fargo pointed the Colt at him. “You want to go, you do as I say.”

  “You heard the man,” Jacob Coarse said, and was the first to turn and walk into the trees. The rest trailed after him, the man with the scar glaring.

  “You’d better watch Treach,” Josephine said. “He’s likely to stab you in the back if you give him half the chance.”

  “He has a knife?” Fargo hadn’t seen a sheath on the man’s hip.

  “Up his sleeve,” Josephine said. “I’ve seen him cut meat with it.”

  “I’m obliged for the warning.”

  Josephine had nice teeth. “We can’t let anything happen to you. You’re our best bet of making it out of the mountains. Not just Hortense and me, but everyone with the wagon train.”

  “I won’t believe there are soldiers until I see them with my own eyes,” Hortense said.

  “She’s suspicious by nature,” Josephine said.

  “I noticed,” Fargo said. He gathered up the guns and laid them on a patch of dry ground near the fire. Squatting, he watched the woods, alert in case Coarse and his bunch should try something.

  Josephine hunkered beside him. “I’m sorry how everyone is treating you.”

  “Oh, please,” Hortense said. She had folded her arms and was tapping her foot.

  “She’s just looking after me,” Josephine said.

  “Sure she is,” Fargo replied, and thought of something he’d like to know. “Those men with Coarse. Have they been with him since the beginning?”

  “Why, no,” Josephine said. “They didn’t sign on in Saint Joseph, Missouri, like the rest of us. They didn’t join until Fort Laramie.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “They’ve been like four peas in a pod ever since,” Hortense threw in.

  “The people with the train will be so happy to see the soldiers,” Josephine said. “A lot of them have about given up hope.”

  “Not me,” Hortense said. “I never give up.”

  Fargo went and fetched the Ovaro.

  They fell quiet.

  It wasn’t long before hooves thudded, and Jacob Coarse and Treach and the other two returned leading their mounts.

  Fargo saw to it that their rifles were shoved in their saddle scabbards and their sidearms were placed in saddlebags. He didn’t mention that he knew about Treach’s hideout. He asked the women to douse the fire. As soon as everyone was mounted, he reined to the rear.

  “How are you going to lead us from back there?” Jacob Coarse asked.

  “We’ll follow my tracks.”

  His trail of disturbed snow was plain enough a child could follow it. Coarse took the lead, his men after him, and then the women.

  Fargo came last, his hand always on the Colt.

  Not much was said. They’d descended about halfway when Fargo gigged the Ovaro up to Josephine and Hortense. “I have a question.”

  “You’re not my type,” Hortense said.

  “Will you please be nice?” Josephine said. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to go to bed with you.”

  Fargo wouldn’t mind but that wasn’t his question. “Have you seen any sign of Blackjack Tar?”

  Josephine shook her head. “We know he’s out there somewhere. Mr. Coarse has warned us about him time and again.”

  “Not that I trust Jacob Coarse but it could explain all the people who have disappeared,” Hortense said.

  “Why didn’t others from the train come with you?” Fargo wondered.

  “That’s two questions,” Hortense said.

  “We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving,” Josephine answered. “We were afraid they’d tell Coarse. But he found out anyway.”

  “The way he’s been eyeing us this whole trip,” Hortense said, “he must have noticed we were gone soon after we lit a shuck.”

  “Eyeing you?” Fargo said.

  Josephine blushed. “He undresses us with his eyes. It got so, it made my skin itch.” She smiled sweetly. “Thank goodness you don’t do that. I could tell you were a man of virtue the moment we met.”

  “That’s me,” Fargo said. “Virtuous as hell.”

  19

  Fargo stayed at the rear until they were a hundred yards out from the camp. Then he gigged the Ovaro to the front and rose in the stirrups and hailed the soldiers. It puzzled him when they didn’t reply. A tap of his spurs brought him out of the last of the trees, and he drew rein in consternation.

  A few wisps of smoke curled and a few embers glowed but the fire had almost died out.

  Jules, the soldiers and their prisoners, and the horses were gone.

  “What the hell?” Fargo blurted. Dismounting, he held on to the reins and sought clues to what had happened. Red spots near the fire caught his eye. He went over and sank to a knee and touched one. It was blood, all right, not quite dry.

  Standing, Fargo saw where the snow had been churned by a lot of feet and hooves; the tracks led to the south.

  Jules and the troopers had ridden off in a hurry. But why, when they knew he was due back before nightfall? “This makes no damn sense,” he said out loud.

  “It does to me,” Hortense said.

  Fargo turned.

  The women and Coarse and his men had drawn rein and were staring at him with mixtures of suspicion and hostility.

  “Where are the soldiers you told us about?” Josephine asked. “Why aren’t they here?”
>
  “I can answer that,” Hortense said. “There never were any soldiers. He fed us a lie. He’s one of Tar’s men, as I’ve been saying all along. And they rode off and left him.”

  “The only part that you got right is that they rode off,” Fargo said sourly. He was tired of her accusing him.

  Jacob Coarse leaned on his saddle horn. “I have my doubts too, mister. I took you at your word and came with you but it’s mighty strange these blue coats you’re with have up and vanished.”

  “Just like your people at the wagon train,” Fargo said.

  Coarse’s jaw muscles worked and he glared at the women. “Told him everything, did you?”

  “Why shouldn’t we?” Josephine said.

  “Because if he’s one of Tar’s men, like Hortense thinks, then he’s our enemy.”

  “He hasn’t tried to hurt us,” Josephine said.

  “He held us at gunpoint,” Coarse reminded her. “He made us put up our hardware.”

  The man with the scar twisted and put his hand on his saddlebags. “I’m getting my pistol out right now.”

  “Go ahead and try, Treach,” Fargo said, placing his hand on his Colt.

  “You see?” Coarse said to Josephine. “If he was on our side, would he do something like that?”

  “I don’t know,” Josephine said uncertainly.

  “Well, I do,” Hortense said, and without warning she slapped her legs against her mare and rode straight at Fargo.

  Letting go of the Ovaro’s reins, Fargo leaped aside. He was a shade too slow. The mare clipped him and sent him staggering a couple of steps. He regained his balance and saw that Treach had a saddlebag open and was sliding a hand in. “Don’t!”

  With a snarl of defiance, Treach whipped his revolver out, cocking it as he raised it to shoot.

  Fargo drew and fanned a shot from the hip, his hand slapping the hammer hard.

  At the blast, Treach was punched half around. The slug had caught him high in the right shoulder. His revolver fell from fingers gone limp and he folded over his saddle horn and groaned.

  Fargo covered the others. “Anyone else?”

  Jacob Coarse and the other two sat perfectly still. “You miserable bastard,” Coarse said.

  Josephine cried, “Hortense, no!”

  Fargo spun. The redhead was bearing down on him again. This time he sprang out of the way, lunged, and wrapped his left hand around her leg. With a powerful wrench he tore her boot from the stirrup, and heaved.

  Hortense yipped as she tumbled to earth in a windmill of limbs. The snow cushioned her fall and she sat up sputtering and wiping at her eyes and nose. “Damn you anyhow!” she fumed.

  “Everyone off their horses,” Fargo commanded.

  “To think I took you at your word,” Jacob Coarse snarled as he climbed down.

  Josephine, though, didn’t. She reined over to Treach, who was still bent over his saddle horn, and gently touched him, saying, “You poor man. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Leave him be and get off,” Fargo said.

  “I will not,” Josephine replied. “He’s hurt, and I’m a nurse. Helping people is what I do.”

  Not taking his eyes off the others, Fargo sidled over to Treach’s animal. “You heard the lady,” he said. “Climb down.”

  All Treach did was groan louder. Blood dripped from under his sleeve and spattered the snow.

  “Give him a hand,” Josephine requested.

  “Sure,” Fargo said. Reaching up, he gripped the back of Treach’s coat and pulled.

  Treach stirred and clutched at his saddle horn but it was too little, too late. In a spray of snow, he landed with a thud at Fargo’s feet.

  “That was awful,” Josephine said.

  “You wanted him off.”

  Alighting, Josephine dipped to her knees. “Mr. Treach?” She carefully slid her hand under his other shoulder and tried to turn him over. “Can you hear me? You’re losing a lot of blood. I need to bandage you.”

  “If he dies,” Jacob Coarse said to Fargo, “you’ll answer for it.”

  Fargo had forgotten about Hortense. He was reminded when Josephine looked past him and again shouted, “Hortense, no!” He started to turn, and a wildcat was on him. The impact nearly knocked him over. He got his arm up but not before she’d raked his cheek and his neck with her fingernails. Cuffing her on the chin, he barked, “That’s enough.”

  “Not hardly,” Hortense replied, and threw herself at him anew.

  Fargo’s patience snapped. He drove his left fist into her gut, doubling her in half, and dropped her with a light rap of the Colt to her temple.

  “Hortense!” Josephine cried. Leaving Treach, she darted over and cradled Hortense’s head in her lap. “What have you done? If you’ve hurt her I’ll never forgive you.”

  Fargo wiped the back of his hand across his cheek. It came away streaked with blood. “She damn near took out my eye out.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  One of the men with Jacob Coarse took a step toward him, and Fargo covered him. It was the last straw. “Take your rope off your horse,” he told the wagon master.

  “What for?”

  Fargo cocked the Colt.

  Muttering, Coarse complied.

  “Now get the knife Treach keeps up his sleeve and cut the rope into foot-long lengths.”

  “You’re not fixing to do what I think you’re fixing to do?” Coarse said.

  “Do it.”

  Fargo had Jacob Coarse tie the other two and then instructed Josephine to tie Coarse.

  “What if I refuse?”

  “I’ll shoot him.”

  “Why him and not me?”

  “You’re prettier.”

  While Josephine tended to Treach, who had passed out, Fargo rekindled the fire and filled his coffeepot with snow. He put it on to melt, and turned to Hortense and tied her wrists.

  “What did you do that for?” Josephine demanded.

  Fargo touched the marks on his cheek. “I can’t trust any of you.”

  Jacob Coarse swore. “You can’t trust us? Mister, that would be funny if you were trussed up and not us.”

  “I can gag you, too,” Fargo warned.

  Once the water was hot enough, Josephine washed Treach’s wound. The slug had gone clean through but nicked a vein.

  “So much blood,” Josephine said. “You’d better pray he pulls through or you’ll have murdered him.”

  “He was about to murder me,” Fargo pointed out.

  “You don’t know that. It could be he only meant to scare you or wound you.”

  “And it could be I piss gold after every glass of whiskey,” Fargo said. “But I don’t.”

  “You’re terribly crude,” Josephine said, yet she grinned.

  Once she was done bandaging Treach, Fargo added more snow and put coffee on to perk.

  “How can you think of that at a time like this?” Josephine asked.

  Fargo gave her body a once-over, and smiled. “Did you have something else in mind?”

  “Oh my,” Josephine said. “I don’t understand you. If I came back and found the soldiers I claimed to be with gone, I’d stay in the saddle and go find out where they got to.”

  “If they’re not back by morning, we will.”

  “Why wait so long? What not head out now?”

  Fargo indicated the sun, which was low on the horizon. “We wouldn’t get half a mile before we’d have to stop for the night anyway. We might as well stay here.”

  At that juncture Hortense moaned and rolled onto her side and opened her eyes. She tried to sit up and discovered her arms were bound. “What the hell?”

  “It was his doing,” Josephine said.

  If looks could kill, Hortense’s would have dropped Fargo where he sat. “I demand
that you release me.”

  “Did you hear something?” Fargo said to Josephine. “A fly buzzing around?”

  “Go to hell,” Hortense said.

  The sun slowly sank, the shadows spreading and merging until the mountains became cloaked in twilight.

  Fargo sat with his tin cup in his hands, the warmth a welcome reprieve. He ignored the glares of Hortense and Jacob Coarse.

  Josephine was deep in thought. She had her knees tucked to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. “So will you tie me up too before we bed down for the night?”

  Fargo grinned. “I had other ideas,” he joked.

  To his considerable astonishment, Josephine leaned toward him, placed her hands on her thighs, and whispered, “I was hoping you would say that. As soon as the others fall asleep, you can have me.”

  20

  Jacob Coarse was the last to succumb to slumber. Along about ten he closed his eyes and was breathing heavily.

  Josephine had pretended to turn in so that, as she put it, “Hortense won’t suspect I’m about to be naughty.” As soon as Coarse started snoring, she cast off her blanket and sat up and winked at Fargo. “Now it’s just you and me,” she whispered.

  Fargo had something to do first. “I’ll be right back.” Rising, he moved to the trees and was doing what a lot of coffee gave every man the urge to do when Josephine came up behind him.

  “We have to find somewhere they can’t see us in case one of them wakes up.”

  “It will be hard to find a dry spot in all this snow,” Fargo mentioned.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “You’re awful cheerful,” Fargo remarked as he stuffed himself into his pants.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? You coming along has been a godsend.”

  “Treach wouldn’t think so.”

  “He shouldn’t have tried to draw on you.”

  “Hortense would—” Fargo began, and got no farther. She stepped up close, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek to his bearskin coat.

  “You smell like bear,” she said.

  “Wonder why.”

  “This isn’t something I would ordinarily do.”