Beartooth Incident Read online

  “He’s made your life miserable long enough.”

  “No, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Besides the odds, there’s the shape you’re in.”

  “I can mend a lot before he gets here.”

  “But why? We hardly know each other.”

  “I like what I know. I like it a lot.”

  “Oh.” Mary looked away. When she faced him again, there was the same question in her eyes. But she quickly recovered her composure. “You finish eating your food and I’ll tuck you in.”

  “Yes, Ma,” Fargo teased.

  Mary laughed, the first real laugh he heard from her. She covered her mouth as if self-conscious of what she had done, then said, “You perplex me, sir. More than any man I ever met.”

  “Does that include your Frank?”

  “Frank was a good man. He was devoted and hardworking. A simple man, some would say.” Mary paused. “But I suspect there’s nothing simple about you. There’s nothing simple at all.”

  “I’m as ordinary as water.”

  Mary glanced at Tull. “Say what you will, but I know better.” She went into the bedroom and came out with a blanket. Spreading it on the floor, she rolled Tull onto it. It took some doing. She was huffing when she was done. She placed Tull’s hat on his chest and went to wrap the blanket around him.

  “Wait.” Fargo had eaten enough that newfound vitality was coursing through his veins. He got up and went over and hunkered. “Waste not, want not, I’ve heard folks say.” He began to go through the dead man’s pockets.

  “I should have thought of it,” Mary said.

  Fargo found the usual. A pocketknife. A plug of tobacco. A crumpled letter he had no interest in. And a poke that jangled. He undid the tie string and upended the poke over the floor and out spilled double eagles and other coins and a wad of bills.

  “My word, where did all that come from?”

  “That rustling and robbing you were talking about, remember?” Fargo counted it. “Two hundred and forty-seven dollars.”

  “That’s more than my Frank and I had at any one time in all the years we were married.”

  Fargo kept the forty-seven for himself. He put the two hundred back in the poke and placed it in her hand. “Here.”

  “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “Whatever you want. It’s yours.”

  Mary stared at it and trembled slightly. “I couldn’t. It’s not right.”

  “He sure as hell has no use for it.”

  “But like you say, he got it by dishonest means.”

  “So? If you knew where he got it from, you could give some of it back if it bothered you that much, but you don’t. And it would be stupid to let it go to waste. It’s yours, and that’s that.”

  “Oh, Skye.”

  A tingle ran down Fargo’s spine, startling him. “Don’t make more of it than there is,” he said more gruffly than he intended.

  “Do you realize what this means for me and my children?”

  Fargo patted the forty-seven dollars. “For me this means a poker game and a bottle of whiskey.” He unbuckled Tull’s gun belt and stripped it off. Then he wrapped the body in the blanket, stood, and took hold of the shoulders. “You get the other end and we’ll drag him out.”

  “You’re in no condition,” Mary warned. “I can do it myself.”

  “We don’t have all night. My cold soup is getting colder, and I’d like to eat a little more before I turn in.”

  Reluctantly, Mary did as he wanted. Working together they hauled the body to the front door. Fargo was caked with sweat and could barely stand, but he opened the door and helped her push the body out. When he straightened, he swayed and had to the grip the wall to stay on his feet.

  “See? I told you.” Mary stood at his side and hooked her arm around his waist. “Lean on me. I’ll get you to bed.”

  “You’ll get me to the table. I told you I’m not done eating.”

  “Why are men so stubborn?”

  “Why do women ask such silly questions?”

  Mary grinned. She pushed the door shut with her foot and helped him to the chair, then sat in the one next to him. Her chin in her hands, she regarded him thoughtfully.

  “Where will you go from here?” Fargo asked between mouthfuls. “With that money you can start a whole new life.”

  “Go? We don’t have a horse, remember? Let alone three.”

  “Cud Sten does. I’m sure he and his men have lots of horses. Enough for all of you and for pack animals to take out your pots and pans and whatnot.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not if you’re only doing it for me. I don’t want you hurt on my account.”

  Fargo grinned a lopsided grin. “You can’t take all the credit. There’re the kids.”

  Mary looked into his eyes. “What kind of man are you?”

  “The kind who needs a lot of sleep.” Fargo’s belly was about fit to explode and his eyelids had grown heavy.

  “No. Really. I’d like to know.”

  “Hell.” Fargo sat back. “I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like every other man.”

  Mary coughed, then said softly, “Thank you.”

  “Thank me in three or four days. This Cud Sten could turn out to be as tough as you say.”

  “He is. And he’s got a man with him who is downright scary. Rika, they call him.” Mary paused. “I was thinking we would hide you.”

  “Like you did with Tull?”

  “Off in the trees. We could make you a lean-to.”

  “No.”

  “You can die, you know. Everyone will.”

  “We start dying the moment we’re born. A couple days from now or a couple years, it all ends the same.” The important thing to Fargo was that she and her kids weren’t caught in a hail of lead.

  “You worry me. You worry me considerably.”

  “Good,” Fargo said, and grinned.

  8

  Fargo slept eighteen hours, and when he woke up, he was famished. He no sooner sat up than Mary entered the bedroom, smiling, and informed him she had a surprise. He thought it was the pile of clothes she had placed by the bed for him to pick from.

  His buckskins had been ripped and torn in so many places that until he got the spare set out of his saddlebags or made new ones, he had to make do with a shirt and pants that belonged to her husband. Neither fit well. The pants, in particular, were too short, and too tight at the crotch. His manhood stood out as if sculpted, which made him grin.

  His boots were okay to wear, and his gun belt was fine. The pearl-handled Colt fit nicely. Since it was the same caliber as his, he had plenty of ammunition. The Arkansas toothpick as always, went in his ankle sheath.

  He had lost his hat somewhere so he put on a floppy one Frank Harper had used. It made him look so ridiculous that he decided to go without a hat.

  Fargo stared at his image in the mirror and shook his head in amusement. He looked like he should be huddled in an alley, a wine bottle glued to his lips. His left arm and right leg were stiff from the bites, but the more he moved them, the better he felt. He practiced drawing the Colt a few times and slicked it as quick as could be.

  Fargo went into the main room. There was the real surprise. Delicious aromas brought a roar from his stomach.

  Two candles were on the table. Mary had set out her best plates, with a fork and a spoon beside each. A cup and saucer sat by the plate at the head of the table. She was cooking and humming, wearing what had to be the best dress she owned. Nelly and Jayce were over near the hearth, staring at her as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.

  “Are you hungry?” Mary asked.

  “I could eat those wolves raw,” Fargo said.

  “No need for that.” Mary brought the coffeepot over. “Permit me.” She held out the chair for him, and after he sat, she filled the cup with steaming-hot coffee. “Courtesy of the late and never to be lamented Tull Fitch.”

  “Oh?”

  �
�I went through his saddlebags and found coffee and flour and cornmeal and a few other things. Not a lot, but it will do us.” Beaming, Mary beckoned. “Children, why don’t you have a seat?”

  They came over slowly, as if afraid the table would bite them, and sat staring at Fargo as if afraid he might bite them, too.

  “Something the matter?” Fargo asked.

  Nelly leaned closer and whispered, “What did you do to our ma?”

  “I thanked her for the use of your pa’s clothes.”

  Jayce fidgeted and regarded his mother with unease. “She’s been acting different ever since she tucked you in.”

  “Different how?”

  “Nice.”

  Fargo chuckled. “It could be she’s just happy that Tull won’t bother her anymore.”

  “She’s happy about something but it’s not that.”

  Mary placed a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table. She had also made flapjacks and johnnycakes. There was a plate of toast, smeared lightly in jam. For meat they had the leftover chicken. And for dessert, she informed them, there were iced pastries.

  Jayce’s eyes were wide with amazement. “We haven’t ate this good since I can remember.”

  “When we get to a town and I find work, there will be more meals like this. Now dig in and help yourselves.”

  Fargo wolfed down the eggs. He didn’t realize that he was the only one eating them until he was almost done. Then he noticed that they had all taken small portions of everything, leaving the lion’s share for him. He put down his fork and sat back. “You have to be hungrier than that.”

  Mary was about to take a bite of toast. “Believe me, for us this is a feast.”

  “I’m no hog.”

  “You need to regain your strength.” Mary smiled. “And it’s my small way of saying thank you.”

  Fargo turned to the kids. “Help yourselves to more. If you don’t, I won’t take another bite.”

  “But Ma said—”

  “Hush, son.” Fargo reached across and put a slice of toast and a johnnycake on each of their plates.

  “I have died and gone to heaven,” Jayce said.

  As the kids ate, now and then one or the other would close their eyes and make small sounds of pleasure. Mary, too, had a look of serene contentment.

  Fargo could only begin to guess how rare this must have been. They were worse off than he thought. Toward the end of the meal, after Mary brought over the iced pastries, he asked something he had been wondering about. “Of all the places you could live, why did you and your husband pick here?”

  “It was Frank’s doing,” Mary answered. “He wanted to get away from people. He wanted somewhere we could live in peace.”

  “The middle of the Beartooth Mountains?” Fargo never ceased to marvel at the ridiculous things people did.

  A sheepish look came over her. “You have to understand. My Frank was very much his own man. He liked doing things his way. And he took great pride in being able to provide for us all by his lonesome.”

  Fargo gazed about the spare room and at their threadbare clothes. He almost asked, You call this providing? Only a harebrained idiot would think that bringing his family to the remote Bearthtooths was good for them. He suspected that Frank Harper had been one of those pigheaded sorts who had to do everything his way.

  Mary had more to say. “Frank was a loner. I knew that when I married him, and I accepted it. No one is perfect. The few flaws he had were more than outweighed by his good qualities. A woman couldn’t ask for a more kind and considerate father to her children. And he always did his best for us.”

  “I’m glad you were happy.”

  “I was, Skye. Really and truly. Oh, we didn’t have much, but we had one another, and that counted more to me than anything.”

  Jayce said, “I loved my pa.”

  “Me, too,” Nelly threw in.

  Fargo let it drop. It wasn’t any of his business, anyhow. He finished eating, pushed back his plate, and patted his belly. “That was about one of the best meals I ever ate.”

  Mary was pleased. “I have another surprise for you, but it doesn’t have to do with food.” She went to a closet and came back holding something behind her. “You mentioned that you lost your rifle when you lost your horse. Maybe this will do until you can find them.” She held out a Sharps rifle. “This was in Tull’s saddle scabbard.”

  Fargo grinned in delight. He’d used a Sharps for a spell once, and liked it a lot. They held only one shot, but the heavier-caliber models were powerful enough to drop a buffalo or a grizzly.

  “And you’ll need these.”

  In a leather bag was enough ammunition to hold off a war party. Fargo loaded the Sharps and leaned it against his chair. “I’ll go hunting in the morning.” They had done so much for him, the least he could do was put meat on their table.

  Mary sat back down. “I’ve been thinking,” she said hesitantly. “Tull’s horse is tied out back.”

  “So?”

  “You could be long gone when Cud Sten and his men get here.”

  Fargo looked at her. She was asking him to run out on them. “That’s a hell of a thing to say to me.”

  Mary averted her gaze. “It’s just that they’re likely to kill you if you stay. Cud has had his sights set on me for some time. He’ll be jealous, you staying under our roof. Then there’s Tull. No one ever kills one of Cud Sten’s men and lives. He brags about that.”

  The way Fargo saw it, he could do one of three things. He could hide nearby and wait for Sten’s bunch to leave. He could stay put and give a good account of himself. Or he could play cat and mouse. “Has he ever laid a hand on you?”

  Mary flushed. “Not yet, but not through lack of interest. The reason he keeps coming back is that he wants me to be his woman. He told me so to my face. He even hinted that if I don’t give in, he might take me by force.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “I told him that if he ever tried, I would get hold of a knife and cut off parts of him he’s partial to. So far, the threat has kept his hands off me.”

  Fargo was blunt with her. “It won’t do so forever.”

  “No,” Mary agreed. “Why is why I’ve been praying for a miracle.” She added in a low voice, “And here you are.”

  Fargo figured she was joking until he saw the look on her face. “I doubt the Almighty brought me here.”

  “I take it you’re not a religious man? Well, I can’t claim to be all that God-fearing myself. But I have been praying for deliverance, and there you sit, willing to help us. If that’s not a miracle, I don’t know what is.”

  Fargo wasn’t one of those people who saw omens in everyday occurrences. Some Indian tribes did. An owl would fly over their village, and they would take that as a sign of good fortune. To him, it was just an owl that happened to fly past at that moment. Some whites were the same way. A man dying of thirst in the desert might stumble on a tank in the rocks and call it divine deliverance. To Fargo, it was coincidence or a lot of luck.

  “Be that as it may,” Mary was saying, “I don’t want you hurt on my account. Sorry, on our account.”

  Nelly broke in with, “I don’t want you hurt, either.”

  “Me, either,” Jayce evidently felt obliged to add.

  Fargo swallowed some coffee and put his cup on the saucer. “There’s just one thing I need to know. Do you want to get out of here or not?”

  Mary sighed. “Have we had enough of mountain life? Of barely scraping by? Of going days without food? Of not having decent clothes? Of having to haul water from the stream? Are we tired of the scorching heat of summer and the freezing cold of winter? Of having to chop down a forest of wood to make it through until spring?” She paused. “What do you think?”

  “I want out of here so much, I cry myself to sleep at night,” Nelly said softly.

  “I sort of like it,” Jayce said. “except for the bears and the mountain lions and the wolves. Oh, and the rattlesnakes. Oh, and the hostiles, too.�
��

  Fargo nodded. “I’ll get you out, but you have to abide by what I say. We do things my way and only my way.” Otherwise they were likely to get themselves killed.

  Mary looked at her children. “He’s saying it will be dangerous. He’s saying we could die.”

  “Whatever you need, Mr. Fargo,” Nelly said.

  “I’ll do whatever Ma says to do,” was Jayce’s response.

  Fargo pushed back his chair. Thanks to the sleep and the food, he truly felt like a new man. His wounds hurt but he had always been good at bearing pain. “I’m going for a ride,” he announced. “I want to look the valley over.”

  Mary quickly said, “I can go with you to show you around if you’d like. That is, if you don’t mind riding double.”

  “I reckon I could put up with you,” Fargo said with a grin. “But the kids aren’t to step out that door until we get back.”

  “You heard him,” Mary said.

  “Yes, Ma.”

  “What if I have to. . . . you know?”

  “Then you use the outhouse. But you scoot right back inside and you keep the door barred.”

  Tull’s horse was a sorrel. It was in a corral made of trimmed limbs at the back of the cabin. The saddle and saddle blanket had been hung over the top rail. Fargo went up to the horse and patted it, taking its measure. Some horses spooked easy or were biters or would as soon stomp a man to death as let him ride them. The sorrel seemed to have a good disposition. It didn’t fight the bridle, and it stood still as he threw the saddle blanket on.

  “Let me,” Mary said, coming up beside him. She had a red shawl over her shoulders and an old blue bonnet on her head. What with her golden hair and her green eyes, she compared favorably to other beauties Fargo had known.

  “I’m not helpless.”

  “Oh, I forgot. You’re male.”

  Grinning, Fargo swung the saddle on top of the saddle blanket. He raised the stirrup and did the cinch.

  “We can take as long as you want looking around,” Mary said. “I told Nelly and Jayce we might be awhile.”

  “Did you?” Fargo asked, and was rewarded with another blush.