Northwoods Nightmare Page 3

  Now, coming to the top of a timbered ridge, Fargo halted. The sun would set soon. Just below was a clearing beside a meandering stream. He had found it earlier when he was scouting ahead, and it would make a perfect campsite.

  McKern rode up and drew rein. Gazing out over the high peaks, he scratched his grizzled chin. “From here on out we have to be extra-careful.”

  “I know.”

  “These pilgrims you’re bringing in are lambs for the slaughter and too dumb to realize it.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “It must be nice to know everything.”

  Fargo chuckled. “It must be nice to be a feisty old grump.”

  “Now, now. Respect your elders, sonny. I was fighting Blackfeet when you were still in diapers.”

  “Fighting or running from?”

  Cackling, McKern said, “Now see. That’s why I like you, young hoss. You’re wise beyond your years. Sometimes the smartest way to deal with redskins is to show them your backside.”

  “If it’s kill or run and I have no reason to kill, I light a shuck.”

  McKern nodded in approval. “That’s another thing I like about you. You think before you act, whereas most pups your age act before they think.” He lowered his voice. “But I didn’t come up here to shower you with compliments. I came to warn you.”

  Fargo arched an eyebrow.

  “What did you do to get Allen Havard so mad? The looks he gives you when your back is turned are downright mean.”

  “I wasn’t as polite as he thought I should be. And looks never hurt anyone.”

  “If the looks were all there was, I wouldn’t be talking to you.” McKern glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “He’s been rubbing shoulders with Strath about you.”

  “How do you know it’s about me? Did you hear them?”

  “No. When they rubbed shoulders they both gave you looks. They probably figured no one else noticed but I don’t miss much.”

  “Calling a man a jackass isn’t cause for him to have you killed.”

  “Is that what you did? Damn. Wish I had been there. That Allen is about the most weak sister I ever came across. Have you ever shook his hand? It’s like shaking hands with the air. There’s nothing there. I’ve had babies with stronger grips.”

  Fargo laughed.

  “He’s rich and pampered and soft. He looks down his nose at everyone and everything. And to top it off, he smells like a whorehouse on Saturday night.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh. That’s right. I keep forgetting. You know everything.” McKern lifted his reins. “Well, just wanted you to know you’re being thought of. Keep your eyes skinned, hoss.”

  The ridge at their backs sheltered them from the night wind, which at times was chill and brisk, even in summer. The timber hid their campfires from unfriendly eyes, or so Fargo hoped. The water was cold and clear as only British Columbian water could be.

  Cosmo was in charge of setting up their camps. He had men erecting tents, men chopping wood, a man fetching water.

  Rohan took care of the horses. That was all he ever did. He tethered and tended them at night; he led the pack string by day. He remarked once to Fargo that he had gotten his start as a horse wrangler down in Texas. Rohan liked horses so much that at night he never slept near a fire like everyone else. He spread out his blankets next to the horse string.

  Now Fargo led the Ovaro over. He shucked the Henry from the scabbard and untied his bedroll. Setting them down, he went to loose the cinch so he could strip the saddle and saddle blanket.

  “I’ll do that,” Rohan offered.

  “It’s my horse.”

  “I don’t mind. You’ve got a fine animal. As grand a horse as I’ve seen anywhere.” Rohan’s admiration was genuine. “I’d give anything to have a horse like yours.”

  “The roan you ride is no swayback.”

  Rohan glanced at his own animal. “Julius is the best horse I’ve ever ridden. I’m as attached to him as you are to yours.”

  “You gave it a name?”

  “Sure. I was on a stage once with a schoolteacher. He loved to hear himself talk. And what he most liked to talk about were a bunch of folks he called the Romans. Maybe you’ve heard of them? One was a gent by the name of Julius something or other. Anyway, I liked the name so much, I gave it to the roan.”

  Fargo had never named the Ovaro, nor given names to the horses he owned before it. He supposed he could remedy that but he had gone so long without, what difference did it make?

  Three campfires were crackling At one, Cosmo was setting up a bipod and a large black pot. In addition to his duties as butler and as Theodore Havard’s manservant, Cosmo also cooked all of Theodore’s meals. Not Edith, the wife, or even Angeline, the daughter, but Cosmo.

  Fargo went over. “How are you holding up?”

  “Never better. I had a few rough moments earlier when that bear attacked. But other than that, I am surprisingly serene.” Cosmo looked up from the carrots he was chopping. “I have it from a reliable source that Mrs. Havard and her son are upset with you.”

  “You, too?” Fargo said.

  “Theodore has not heard about it yet. Nor will he, if I have anything to say about it. He has enough to worry about without these petty antics.”

  Fargo grunted. It was interesting how Cosmo always called Edith “Mrs. Havard” but he always called Theodore “Theodore” and never “Mr. Havard.”

  “You seem to have upset Angeline, too. She was talking to you awhile, and when she came back and rode past me, I couldn’t help but notice she looked as if someone had slapped her.”

  “That’s between her and me.”

  Cosmo stopped chopping and wagged the big butcher knife. He always wore a black jacket and white shirt, his black hair was always neatly combed, and his shoes somehow always kept polished. “Perhaps I have been remiss.”

  “Been what?”

  “I’ve neglected to make clear how fond I am of my employer. And his family, too, of course.” Cosmo leaned an elbow on his knees and pointed the knife at Fargo. “I have been employed by Theodore for going on twelve years. I take my responsibilities seriously.”

  “Good for you.”

  Cosmo acted as if he hadn’t heard. “One of those responsibilities is to ensure that Theodore makes it through each day with few impositions on his good nature. Do you follow me?”

  “You don’t like him upset.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t like it at all. And when the other members of his family are upset, it upsets him. You can see where this is leading.”

  “I can’t help it if Allen is a lunkhead.”

  “And what about Angeline? Is she a lunkhead, too?” Cosmo resumed his chopping. “Look. I’m not all that fond of Allen, myself. But he is Theodore’s son. And Mrs. Havard can be a terrible bore, but she is Theodore’s wife. So I would rather that they weren’t upset. Because Theodore might become upset, and that would upset me.” Cosmo looked up. “And you don’t want me upset.”

  “I’ll be damned. Did you just threaten me?”

  “Call it whatever you will. The important thing is that you don’t cause Theodore trouble. I can’t stress how important that is. Because if you do, you won’t like the consequences.”

  Fargo placed his hand on his Colt. “Anytime.”

  Cosmo blinked, and grinned. “Oh, not here and now. What sort of simpleton do you take me for? Theodore would see us, and that would upset him.” He shook his head. “If it comes to that, you and I will go off into the trees and settle our differences in private.”

  “Anytime,” Fargo said again.

  “Let’s not be tedious. I have been open and honest with you, have I not? Which is more than Allen will be.” Cosmo stopped chopping again. “I have nothing against you personally, Mr. Fargo. Theodore says we need you, and that’s enough for me. But you would do well to keep in mind that Allen can be headstrong and rash at times.”

  “One minute you’re threatening me
and the next you’re warning me.”

  “Consider both warnings, if you want. But watch your back, Mr. Fargo. Watch it very closely, indeed.”

  4

  Fargo always took a turn keeping watch. There were enough men that he had to do it only for two hours every other night. Back in San Francisco, Theodore Havard had mentioned that as their guide, Fargo should be exempt from camp duties. Fargo had responded with thanks but no, thanks—he would do his share, just like everyone else.

  “Why not make use of the extra rest?” Theodore had gestured at the men bustling to get the pack animals ready. “Why do you think I pay these people, anyway? This isn’t a democracy. They are to do as I say. And if I say you don’t have to stand guard, then by God, that’s the way it will be.”

  Fargo had declined a second time.

  “I don’t understand you. I truly don’t. You seem to have forgotten the cardinal rule in life.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Always look out for yourself before everyone else. Except for family. They’re the only exceptions.”

  Fargo still refused.

  “Very well. But I must say, you disappoint me. I am being generous and you throw it in my face.”

  Now, at two in the morning, a man named Becker woke Fargo to let him know it was his turn. Fargo nodded and slowly sat up, sleep clinging like cobwebs. He shook his head to clear it, then stretched. Casting off his blankets, he stifled a yawn.

  The camp was quiet, as it should be. Everyone else was asleep. A few tossed and turned. Snores filled the air.

  Fargo went to the campfire. One was always kept going all night. He had cautioned them against making the fires too big. When someone asked why, he had explained that big fires could be seen for miles, and when a war party spotted one, they knew it must be white men.

  Fargo poured a cup of coffee. That was another thing that was never neglected. It was Theodore Havard’s favorite brand; he wouldn’t drink any other. Cosmo mentioned once that it came from South America and cost three times as much as the coffee sold in general stores. Fargo liked it. It had a rich, almost chocolate taste, and never bothered his stomach no matter how much he drank.

  Becker had already turned in, a blanket pulled over his head.

  Taking his cup and the Henry, Fargo roamed the camp to make sure all was well. He passed the four tents. Theodore and Edith were in one, Angeline in another, and Allen had a third. The fourth, the smallest, was for Cosmo. Fargo never heard of a butler having his own tent, but then, Cosmo was more than a butler. Exactly what Cosmo was, everyone had to figure out on his own.

  Fargo did some serious figuring. The key was Edith Havard; she despised Cosmo.

  He came to the horses, tethered in a string, most dozing. At the near end slept Rohan, snoring the loudest of anyone. Fargo was tempted to drop bits of grass into Rohan’s open mouth, but didn’t. Rohan didn’t have much of a sense of humor.

  A multitude of stars sparkled in the firmament. Wind rustled the pines. From out of the dark came grunts, howls and yips, but at a distance. The smell of the fire, and the people smell, kept the meat eaters away.

  Fargo squatted at the fire. He refilled his cup and gratefully sipped. All in all, it hadn’t been bad so far. He was being paid a lot more than usual, the food was better than usual, and his employer, and everyone else, left him pretty much alone. He liked it that way.

  A soft tread caused Fargo to stiffen and spin, his hand dropping to his Colt. He relaxed when he saw who it was. “What are you doing up?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Angeline replied. She curled her legs under her and eased down. Then she poured a cup of coffee. She didn’t look at him until she raised the cup. “It’s your fault.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You and your lewd suggestions. I can’t get them out of my head.”

  Fargo grinned. “That’s a good sign.”

  “I don’t find this funny. I’m a lady, Mr. Fargo. Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you but it means a great deal to me. I don’t go around sleeping with every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”

  “Who asked you to? There’s you and there’s me. And we’re both grown-ups.”

  “Should I be flattered?”

  “You shouldn’t be shocked when a grown man likes you enough to want to please you under the blankets.”

  A snicker escaped her. “You pick strange words to describe out-and-out lust. It’s not me you want to please. It’s your own base desires.”

  “What’s base about a man wanting a woman?” Fargo countered in mild annoyance. “Men have been wanting women since there were men and women. It’s as normal as breathing or eating or sleeping.”

  “You have it all figured out. I’d never have imagined you were such a philosopher.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Angeline drew back as if he had slapped her. “No one has ever talked to me the way you do.”

  “No, I’d guess most don’t. They treat you like a princess. They act like you’re special and put you on a pedestal.” Fargo took a sip. “If I’m wrong, set me right.”

  After a moment’s hesitation Angeline said, “No. You’re not wrong. Everyone is always polite and treats me kindly. I think that’s why you fascinate me so.”

  “I treat you no different than I would any other woman.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying you’ve been mean. It’s just that you talk to me as a woman and not as a princess, as you put it. You treat me as I am and I’m not used to that.”

  Fargo remembered what Cosmo told him. “Then I haven’t hurt your feelings?”

  “I admit you upset me. This is the first time anything like this has happened. Most men are so scared of my father, they walk on eggshells when I’m around. But you’re not afraid of anyone or anything, are you?”

  “Don’t make me out to be more than I am.”

  “And what are you, exactly?”

  “A man.”

  “That’s all? Just a man?”

  “I’m a man who would like to kiss every square inch of your body.”

  Angeline gave another start, then covered her mouth and chortled. “There you go again. Keep this up and I won’t get any sleep at all.”

  Fargo lowered his cup. “Give me half an hour, and you’ll be so tired, you can’t keep your eyes open.”

  “You’re awful sure of yourself. Tell me. Are you one of those who hungers for every female he meets?”

  “Only the ones I like. And I like you a lot.”

  The next moment a shooting star blazed across the sky. Fargo nodded at the fiery streak and said, “The Sioux consider them an omen. When a man and a woman see one, they’re meant to make love.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “Damn. You’re onto me.”

  Angeline nearly spilled her coughing laughing. “You’re a handful—I’ll say that.”

  “No, you’re the handful.” Fargo wriggled his fingers. “And I’ve got the hands.”

  “For a scout, you are not at all what I expected.” Angeline sighed and put her cup down. “I better try to get some sleep. We have another long day in the saddle ahead of us tomorrow.”

  “We could go for a walk,” Fargo suggested, with a nod at the benighted woods.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. I won’t be that easy.” Angeline stood. “I admit I’m flattered. And I admit I’m intrigued. This is all so new. A man wanting me.” She glanced around, then bent toward him and said quietly, “You might find it hard to believe. but I don’t have a lot of experience when it comes to, well, it. I’ve led a sheltered life, Skye. My parents are very protective. My mother especially. So if you really want me, you’ll have to be patient with me.”

  Fargo liked how her breasts swelled against her dress. He liked the hint of willowy thigh. He liked her full red lips. Most of all, he liked the suggestion that if he played his cards right, those lips and breasts and thighs would be his to do with as he wanted. “I’m the most patient gent alive.”

  �
��I thought you might be.” Grinning, Angeline made for her tent, her hips swinging with each stride.

  “Women,” Fargo said.

  Half an hour went by.

  The camp still lay peaceful under the stars.

  Fargo rose to make another circuit of the clearing. He passed the tents, the horses. He came to the stream and stood on the bank, listening to the gurgle of the water. Cradling the Henry, he gazed across the valley at the range they must cross tomorrow. It was a steep climb to the next pass.

  Fargo wasn’t thinking of danger. The night was serene. It gave the illusion that all was well. He couldn’t say what made him suddenly glance over his shoulder.

  Strath was only a few yards away, stealthily stalking him with a knife in each hand.

  With an oath, Fargo whirled and started to level the Henry. But Strath was on him in a bound, one of the knives streaking high, the other low. One glanced off the Henry’s barrel. The other missed Fargo’s leg by a whisker. He drove the stock at Strath’s face but Strath nimbly sprang aside.

  Fargo didn’t shout for help. This was his fight. Again he went to shoot but Strath sprang in close and cut at his neck and side. Fargo twisted and took a step back—into empty space. He had forgotten he was standing on the bank.

  Gravity took over.

  It was only a five-foot drop; Fargo hit and rolled. He wound up on his belly, half in and half out of the stream. The Henry was under him. The thump of boots galvanized him into throwing himself to one side. Cold steel flashed past his eyes. He kicked and connected, eliciting a snarl of fury.

  But now Fargo was flat on his back and he no longer had the Henry. He clawed for his Colt.

  Strath darted in, both knives high, to stab. He slammed his knee down hard on Fargo’s chest. Pain exploded. Fargo flung his arms out and seized Strath’s wrists as the knives swept toward him. Strath sought to wrest free but Fargo’s grip was stonger.

  Locked together, they strained with all their strength, Strath to use his knives, Fargo to prevent him.