Northwoods Nightmare Read online

  Fargo skirted a slope littered with deadfall. Later he had to skirt another covered with talus. The climb was steep. It was the middle of the afternoon when he reached the pass and climbed down to wait for the others. From up here he could see for miles and miles, breathtaking scenery the likes of which few ever beheld.

  Many folks tended to forget there was more to the world than the town or city they lived in. Buildings and streets were all they saw each day. Seeped in civilization, their lives were the same, day in and day out, year after year.

  That wasn’t for Fargo. He preferred the wilds. The always new. The always different. Give him the mountains and the prairies, the lakes and rivers and streams. He could only take civilization in small doses. Too much of it, and he felt suffocated and couldn’t wait to head back into the wild.

  Fargo sat on a boulder. The Havard party was a good ways below him. He reckoned it would take them an hour and a half to two hours to reach him. He squinted up at the sun. Plenty of daylight left. He would lead them through the pass and start down the other side of the mountain before night fell.

  All things considered, it wasn’t going badly. The business with Allen and Strath rankled but it was nothing to worry about. Bucktooth and company he rated as minor nuisances.

  Fargo thought of Angeline, and stirred, low down. She had the kind of body a man dreamed about in the quiet hours of the night. He resented Cosmo for using that against him, but he didn’t resent it too much. After all, he could have said no and told Theodore the truth.

  Fargo stretched. He pushed his hat back on his head. He looked down at the ants winding slowly toward him and then sighed and turned to the Ovaro. He figured he might as well get some coffee going.

  Two Indians were barely ten feet away.

  Fargo stiffened and swooped his hand to his Colt. Then he saw that one of the Indians was a wrinkled old warrior with white hair and the other was a young maiden as shapely as Angeline Havard, with long raven hair and a doeskin dress decorated with beads and ribbons. They had high foreheads, high cheeks, and wide mouths. Both were armed with knives on their hips and the old warrior had a quiver and a bow slung across his back.

  “It must be my day for running into people,” Fargo muttered.

  The woman was studying him intently. She smiled a bit uncertainly and said in English, “We are friendly.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Fargo returned her smile. “So am I. Unless you’re out to rob me or kill me, in which case I’m no marmot.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothing,” Fargo said. He introduced himself. “I take it you two are Knifes?”

  “That is what your people call us. We call ourselves the Nlaka’pamux. I am Teit and this is my grandfather, Chelahit.”

  Fargo nodded at the old man and saw that he was staring off into space; his eyes were a filmy gray, not brown as they should be. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “My grandfather is blind.”

  Rising onto the toes of his boots, Fargo peered past them into the pass. “Where are the rest?”

  “Sorry?”

  “The other Nlaka’pamux.” Fargo couldn’t see her and her blind grandfather traipsing around by themselves.

  “Thank you,” Teit said.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You called us by our name. Most whites cannot be bothered. To them we are the Knifes, whether we want to be or not.” Teit smiled. “And there are no others. Grandfather and I are alone.”

  “That’s dangerous.”

  “Thank you,” Teit said again.

  “What the hell for?”

  “For saying that. You must have a good heart for a white man. I am well pleased.”

  Fargo’s interest perked. But he exercised caution and took a few steps to the right so he could see to the far end of the pass and confirm her claim. The pass was empty. “What are you doing way up here by yourselves?”

  “Long ago my grandfather’s brother took a Nicola woman for his wife and went to live with them. My grandfather wanted to see his brother one more time before he passes to the other side, so I took him for a visit. We are on our way back to our own people.”

  The Nicola, Fargo knew, were a tribe to the south. “Then you’re on your way north, the same as me.”

  “We heard you come up the mountain and hid. I have watched you to be sure you are friendly.”

  “What made you decide I am?”

  “I can tell,” Teit said. “Early this morning four white men came down the trail and we hid from them, too. They were men with bad hearts.”

  “Bucktooth and his pards.”

  “Sorry?” Teit said yet again.

  “You were right. They had bad hearts.”

  “Had?”

  “I don’t like having guns pointed at me.”

  Teit held her grandfather’s hand, brought him to the boulder, and in her own tongue bade him sit.

  “Does Chelahit speak the white tongue?”

  “No. He is not fond of white men. He says whites want to own the world and that is wrong, so he will have nothing to do with them.”

  “You speak it well,” Fargo complimented her. “Did a Catholic missionary teach you?” Priests had been active in the region in recent years.

  “Father Fouquet, yes. A kind man. A good man. I learned from him, and from others. I learned well, yes?”

  “You speak it better than me.”

  “I try hard to say it well,” Teit said. “I also speak some French and the tongues of two tribes besides my own.”

  Fargo fished for information by remarking, “You’re smart as well as good-looking. There must be a warrior somewhere lucky to call you his wife.”

  “I am too busy taking care of grandfather and my father and mother to think of a husband.” Teit sighed. “My parents had me late in life. My father broke his leg in a fall five winters ago and cannot get around as he used to.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Fargo said to be polite.

  “And you? Is there a woman you call your own?”

  “I like all women. Tall, short. Blondes, redheads, brunettes.” Fargo paused for effect. “White. Red.”

  “And women like you, I suspect. You are very handsome for a white man. It is your eyes. Looking into them is like looking into a lake.”

  Fargo hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Tell you what. Since you’re heading in the same direction we are, you’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

  “You can speak for all the whites below?” Teit asked with a sweep of her arm at the riders.

  “They’re not like the badmen you saw. I’m their guide. The man in charge is called Havard. He’s up here searching for his son.”

  Teit gave a slight start. “Havard, you say?”

  “You’ve heard the name before?”

  “I do not think so.”

  “Theordore Havard, his wife, Edith, and their son and daughter are looking for the other son, Kenneth. Have you run across him anywhere?”

  “No.”

  Fargo was willing to bet every dollar in his poke she was lying. ““He’s lived in Fraser Canyon the past few years, working a gold claim.”

  “We do not go into the canyon often,” Teit told him.

  Now Fargo was doubly certain. Fraser Canyon was at the heart of Knife territory. Only small parts of it were under white control. The rest were roamed by the Knifes. “So you’ve never been to Boston Bar or Lytton?”

  “A few times,” she admitted.

  Fargo let it drop, for now. He went to the Ovaro, groped in a saddlebag, and brought out a bundle of pemmican wrapped in a square of rabbit fur. He opened the hide and offered some to them.

  “You are very kind,” Teit said as she picked a piece for her grandfather and another for herself.

  “You’re welcome to more if you want.”

  Tentatively, almost shyly, Teit selected two more. She avoided looking at him. Sitting next to her grandfather, she slowly chewed. “Thank you. This is. . . .
how do you say?. . . . delicious?”

  “I think so, too.” Fargo liked pemmican a lot better than jerky. It consisted of berries mixed with meat and fat. He wrapped the bundle and replaced it in his saddlebag.

  They ate in silence. Several times Teit glanced at Fargo as if she was going to say something. Chelahit finished his pemmican and carefully eased to the ground with his back to the boulder. He said something to Teit.

  “My grandfather says he is sleepy. He will rest while we wait for your friends,” she translated.

  Fargo moved a few yards down the slope and leaned against a fir, his arm crossed over his chest. The panorama of uplands spread before him to the far horizon. Several peaks were capped with ivory even at that time of year. Below the snow, phalanxes of evergreens grew in their many diversities. A pair of ravens cawed and flapped, the throb of their wings like the beat of a pulse in the rarefied air.

  “Beautiful, is it not?” Teit asked as she sat next to him.

  “The only thing more beautiful is a woman’s naked body.” Fargo smiled as he said it but she still blinked.

  “Are you always this forward?”

  “A popular question of late,” Fargo admitted. “But you should be used to it, as pretty as you are.”

  “Used to what? Most men I know do not talk about female bodies, naked or otherwise.”

  Fargo thought she had risen to the bait but she immediately changed the subject.

  “This Kenneth Havard. His family is sure he was in Fraser Canyon?”

  “They got regular letters from him and then the letters stopped. His claim was near Boston Bar.”

  “I see.” Teit hesitated. “It could be they have come all this way for nothing. It could be he is dead.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “No. I was just saying. Many of the whites who came to our country found only death.” Teit put a hand on his arm. “It is worth keeping in mind. You have been kind to us, and I would not want you to be one of them.”

  Was that a warning or a threat? Fargo wondered.

  7

  Fargo figured someone would object. He didn’t figure on the entire Havard family, and Cosmo, coming up to him with spite in their eyes. Edith fired the first shot.

  “What is this nonsense about you wanting that old Indian and that squaw to join us?”

  “Only as far as Fraser Canyon.”

  “Why would you even want to do such a thing?” Theodore demanded. “They’re Indians, after all.”

  Fargo had three reasons. He wanted to help Teit and her grandfather get back safely. He wanted to do it because he was convinced Teit knew something about Kenneth Havard. And he wanted to do it because he wanted to get up her dress. He mentioned only the first reason.

  Theodore harrumped. “Are you sane? These are red savages we’re talking about. We will need protection from them.”

  “From a blind man and his grandaughter?”

  Edith thrust a finger at him. “They’re heathens, and I for one do not associate with heathens.”

  Allen had been quiet but now he said in his most condescending tone, “Why all this bickering? It’s not as if our guide has a choice. He works for us. He’ll do what we want him to do. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I work for your father,” Fargo set him straight. “I’ll hash this out with him. Keep your braying to yourself.”

  The allusion to a jackass caused red to creep from Allen’s pale throat to his pale forehead.

  “That will be quite enough,” Theodore interceded. “We’re serious, Fargo. I will not have savages in my party, and that’s final.”

  “Then you don’t have me, either.”

  Allen quickly said, “We don’t need him, Father. We’re only a day out of Fraser Canyon. We can find Boston Bar by ourselves.”

  “Be my guest,” Fargo said.

  At that juncture Cosmo cleared his throat. “Permit me, Theodore, to add my thoughts.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s true we are near enough to the canyon that we can probably find it on our own, and thus true that we don’t need Mr. Fargo’s services as a guide, per se. But we do need his experience. Remember those four men who were out to kill and rob us?”

  “As always, you make an excellent point,” Theodore praised him.

  “There’s more to consider.” Cosmo looked at each of the Havards. “It’s my understanding Indians are often grateful for a kindness rendered. By helping this girl and her grandfather, we show her people that we are friendly. And surely it’s to our benefit to be in the good graces of the Knife Indians, given the trouble they have caused in the past.”

  “Another excellent point,” Theodore agreed.

  “I don’t agree,” Edith said bitterly.

  “But, my dear, they are less likely to attack if we’ve done them a favor. By helping these two, we reap goodwill.”

  “Exactly my point,” Cosmo said.

  Fargo had to hand it him; the man didn’t miss much. He noticed that Angeline was not taking part and smiled at her. She smiled back.

  “I still think it’s a mistake,” Edith stubbornly insisted.

  “I’m with mother,” Allen declared.

  McKern and several others were listening, and McKern chose that moment to clear his throat. “Have you ever fought redskins, Mrs. Havard?”

  “Of course not. I’ve spent my entire life in cities in cultured, mannered society. White society.”

  “That’s nice. But out here culture doesn’t count for much. If we get the Knifes mad at us, we could have a rain of arrows come out of nowhere. Or maybe they’ll sneak into our camp some night and slit a few of our throats from ear to ear. They’ve done it before.”

  Theodore rubbed his chin. “Very well. It’s worth it to get into the good graces of the savages. The woman and her grandfather may stay.” He turned to Fargo. “But make them understand they are not to bother us. They’re not to beg for food or money or any of that. We’ll show them whites can be as kind as anyone, within certain limits.”

  And that was that.

  Teit thanked Fargo when he brought the news. He took them to near the rear of the line, just ahead of Rohan and the pack animals. Rohan was picking lice from his clothes.

  “Mind? Why would I mind? I’ve got nothing against Injuns. Down to Texas I had a friend name of Blue Dog. He was half Comanch, but him and me got along just fine.”

  Fargo’s estimation of the Texan rose a notch. “Keep an eye on them and let me know if anyone gives them trouble. Mrs. Havard and Allen don’t like the idea.”

  “Now there’s a pair. A shrew and a weasel,” Rohan scoffed. “The airs that Allen puts on, I’d love to take a hatchet to his head. Anything that gets him mad, I’m for.”

  Fargo led them through the pass and down the other side. Mostly bare slopes made their going easy the first mile. Then they came to the thick timber.

  Fargo called a halt at the tree line.

  As usual, Cosmo took charge. The tents were put up. Wood was chopped. Fires were kindled. Rohan saw to the horses.

  His Henry in hand, Fargo went to where the maiden and her grandfather were sat quietly by themselves. “I’ll see to it you get some food, and later we can talk if you want.”

  “About what?” Teit asked.

  “Your people. I like to learn about tribes I’ve never met.” Fargo hoped in the bargain to learn about Kenneth Havard.

  Teit gazed out over the vast expanse of peaks and darkening woods. “This land is our land. We have lived here for more winters than anyone can count. We do not like that the whites have come. We especially do not like that the whites act as if the land is theirs.”

  “Not all whites. You mentioned a priest you liked.”

  “One of only a few white men with good hearts. If more were like Father Fouquet and K—” Teit caught herself and stopped.

  Fargo would swear she was about to say “Kenneth” but he pretended not to notice. “Maybe before long you’ll add
me to that list.”

  Teit smiled. “I would like to.”

  On that promising note Fargo went to the fire nearest the tents. The Havards were not out yet. Their nightly ritual included washing up for supper. Edith, in particular, had a fit if so much as a mote of dust besmirched her powdered skin.

  Cosmo had put coffee on. Squatting, Fargo filled his tin cup. The aroma of simmering stew made his mouth water. “You should be a cook.” The man was a wizard with pots and pans.

  Without looking up from the potatoes he was chopping, Cosmo chuckled. “It is part of my job. I have no passion for it, and a person should always devote him- or herself to something they are passionate about.”

  Fargo thought of his love of the wild places, and of women. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

  About to add the potatoes pieces to the pot, Cosmo commented, “That’s one of the traits I admire about you.”

  “You admire me?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised? I like to think of myself as intelligent, and intelligence appreciates quality, wherever it may be found.”

  “You sure like big words.”

  Cosmo grinned. “We all have our pretensions.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Surely you have met people who pretend they are something they are not? The put on a show, and the show is their life. I’ll use Allen as an example. He pretends to be a loving, devoted son. But the truth is, he’s a spoiled brat who can’t wait for Theodore and Mrs. Havard to die so he can lay claim to his share of their inheritance.” Cosmo began chopping carrots. “Or let’s take a certain young lady you are interested in. She puts on a show of being shy and inhibited. But the truth be known, she has had several, shall we say, dalliances in recent years. She isn’t the complete innocent she lets on.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Cosmo’s smile was oil mixed in water. “You asked me about pretensions, remember? Is there anything else you would like to know?”

  Fargo was about to say no, but actually there was. “How close are Allen and Kenneth?”

  “Not close at all. There’s the age difference, for one thing. Kenneth always loved the outdoors. Allen isn’t happy unless he has a roof over his head. Kenneth could take care of himself. Allen is a mother’s boy. Need I go on?”