Rocky Mountain Revenge Read online

  “Say it plain,” Ferret Killer said.

  “Do I have to? You both know what’s at stake. If we can’t stop him then Fargo has to die.”

  9

  To say Fargo was puzzled was an understatement. He’d taken it for granted Speckled Wolf tried to kill him. Now he learned the three breeds were trying to scare him off. But why? He needed to hear more.

  Rooster and Ferret Killer got up and moved to the fire. They both could use a wash and their clothes had never seen suds. Ferret Killer slipped a hand under a ragged leather vest and produced a silver flask. Opening it, he sucked down a swallow and let out a contented sigh.

  “The sun ain’t even up,” Speckled Wolf said.

  “Don’t start.”

  “I keep telling you but you won’t listen. You’re drinking yourself into an early grave.”

  “It’s my life,” Ferret Killer said sullenly. “Such as it is.”

  Rooster swore. “Don’t you dare start in on how sorry you feel for yourself. I am so sick to death of your blabber I could shoot you.”

  “Stop right there,” Speckled Wolf broke in. “I won’t put up with it today. We are going to eat and saddle our horses and get the hell out of here, and we’re going to do it without arguing.”

  “You’re awful testy,” Rooster said.

  “I shot a kid two days ago. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  Ferret Killer tilted the flask to his lips. “It wouldn’t bother me none. He tried to stick an arrow in you, didn’t he? He had it coming.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Speckled Wolf said bitterly. “He was just doing what he was supposed to. I should have shot to wound him but it happened too damn fast.”

  Ferret Killer snickered. “Keep it up and Rooster will say you’re feeling sorry for yourself like he always does me.”

  “Your problem is that you wish you weren’t born a breed,” Rooster said. “You wish you were born all white or all red.”

  “And you don’t?” Ferret Killer rejoined.

  Speckled Wolf angrily gestured. “Enough, damn it. If all you’re going to do is bicker, keep your damn mouths shut.”

  Fargo put his hat back on and left the sanctuary of the log. He planned to sneak around to the other side of the clearing and jump them as they were heading out. If he could catch them off guard he might get his hands on one of their rifles or revolvers.

  “It sure is funny, us going to all this bother,” Ferret Killer said. “You’d think we had a stake in it.”

  “We do,” Speckled Wolf said.

  “Hell. None of us have any Nez Perce blood. You and me are part Crow and Rooster, here, is part Arapaho. We don’t owe the Nez Perce.”

  “We owe it to all Indians.”

  Ferret Killer rolled his eyes. “There you go again, on your high horse. But I’ve got news for you. My red half doesn’t mean as much to me as your red half means to you. Let them do it if they’re dumb enough. It would serve them right.”

  Fargo was trying to make sense of what he was hearing. It almost sounded as if they thought they were doing the Nez Perce some kind of favor. He skirted a patch of high grass that might sway and give him away.

  From out of the forest to the northwest came a loud whinny.

  The three breeds leaped to their feet and brandished weapons.

  “Did you hear that?” Ferret Killer exclaimed.

  “We’re not deaf,” Speckled Wolf said. “Quick. Throw your saddles on. It must be the Nez Perce.”

  To Fargo it had sounded like the Ovaro. He crawled behind an oak and rose into a crouch and ran back the way he had come. The stallion wouldn’t whinny like that unless something was wrong. It could be a grizzly or a mountain lion or maybe hungry wolves. He flew, fearing the worst and wishing yet again that he had his guns. He saw the Ovaro with its head high and its ear pricked and he burst out of the trees and looked in the direction it was looking.

  From behind him came the drum of footsteps.

  Fargo tried to spin but strong arms encircled his chest and other arms wrapped around his legs and he was borne to the ground with a bone-jolting crash. He still had the toothpick in his hand and fell on top of it. Fortunately, the blade didn’t stick him. He slid the knife up his sleeve just as he was roughly rolled onto his back and a moccasin was pressed to his chest.

  The moccasin belonged to Motomo. It was Alahmoot who had him around the legs. Another warrior stood a few feet away with an arrow notched.

  “Fancy running into you,” Fargo said.

  Small Badger came up. “I be sorry, friend. I not want to come after you but Motomo not let you get away. Him want your blood for son.”

  Fargo was jerked to his feet and shoved toward the Ovaro. Motomo motioned for him to climb on. The warrior with the bow kept the arrow trained on him, and Motomo took the reins and started into the forest to the northwest. Small Badger walked alongside.

  “We ride all night to find you. Hunt and hunt and finally find tracks of horse.”

  Fargo glanced back. He couldn’t see the campfire; Speckled Wolf and his friends had put it out. The Nez Perce could catch them if he said something. He didn’t. He couldn’t exactly say why but he held his tongue.

  “Why you run?” Small Badger asked.

  “You would have done the same in my boots.”

  “That no answer. I trust you. I tell others you not have part in killing Running Elk. Now them not believe me. They say if you not do it, why you try get away.”

  Fargo didn’t answer.

  Their horses weren’t far. Motomo and Alahmoot rode behind Fargo; Small Badger and the other warrior in front. Motomo made a comment that caused Alahmoot to smile and Small Badger to frown.

  “Him say he hope you try to get away again so he can kill you like you kill his son.”

  On the entire ride to the village they watched Fargo like hawks watching prey. Even so, he managed to slip the toothpick into his boot. When they made camp that night they bound him. He could have cut himself free but he elected to go along with them for the time being.

  The dead warrior was belly down on his horse. His name meant Fierce In A Fight and he had been the first to rush the stand of cottonwoods and had been shot down before he could reach them.

  Fargo asked if the Nez Perce had gotten a good look at the shooters and Small Badger replied that they had not thanks to the rain, although, “I see face of one and he look like Crow.”

  Along about the middle of the afternoon they reached the village. Once again everyone came out to meet them. Fargo was hauled from the Ovaro and taken to the same lodge as before. Motomo shoved him through the flap so hard, Fargo fell to his knees. His temper flared but he reminded himself the man had lost a son.

  He lay on his side near the charred remains of the fire and mulled over what he should do. As much as he liked the Nez Perce, and as much as he needed the money Clarence Bell was willing to pay him, he was tempting fate if he stayed.

  The sky darkened. The village grew quiet. It was the supper hour and most of the Nez Perce were in their lodges.

  Fargo rolled onto his back. He had to strain to reach his boots. He slipped his fingers in and pried at the toothpick but it was stuck in the sheath. He was so intent on getting it that he almost missed the swish of the flap. Quickly, he pulled his hand from his boot and looked to see who it was. “So much for that bear being an omen.”

  Many Clouds was carrying a bowl of food. “I cannot help it you keep coming back and I cannot stay away.” She set down the bowl. “I brought elk meat with wild onions and carrots.”

  Fargo sat up. They had not fed him much on the trail and he was famished. “What’s the latest about me?”

  “Gray Bear and the elders are in council. They will decide your fate. Motomo has spoken to them and demanded a life for a life. Small Badger has asked them to spare you.”

  “I’m back where I started.” Fargo opened his mouth and she popped a thick piece of meat in. He chewed lustily, then said, “I suppose I can f
orget about buying horses.”

  “That, too, is in the hands of the council. It could be tonight, it could be tomorrow.” Many Clouds glanced at the flap and lowered her voice. “I do not want you to die.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  “I am serious.” Many Clouds fed him a carrot. “I will come back later after everyone is asleep and cut you loose. You must take your horse and go.”

  “What about my guns?”

  “Gray Bear has them. To try and take them from his lodge would only get you caught.”

  Fargo held out his wrists. “Why wait? Cut the rope now.”

  “No. I know you. You will try for your guns and be killed. Now be quiet while I feed you.”

  Fargo was too hungry to argue.

  Many Clouds had more to say. “You do not seem to understand. I take a great risk helping you. My people would not harm me if they found out but they would not be pleased with me, either.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to get you in trouble.”

  “So you say. But what if a warrior tries to stop you?” Many Clouds held an onion to his mouth. “I do not want any of my tribe hurt.” She touched his chin and ran the tip of her finger over his beard to his throat. “I like your hair. Our men are always smooth.”

  “You have smooth parts I like,” Fargo told her. She went on feeding him and he went on eating. When she caressed his arm from his shoulder to his elbow he didn’t think much of it. When she dallied her hand from his knee to his hip he figured she was being affectionate. But after he ate the last morsel and she leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth hard and longingly, he awoke to what she was up to. “You can’t be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  Many Clouds set down the bowl and placed both her hands on his thighs. “Why not?”

  “What if someone comes in?”

  “No one will come until the council has decided. No one wants anything to do with you.”

  “They’ll wonder why you’re in here so long.”

  “They know I am your friend.” Many Clouds kissed him on the neck and on the cheek, her lips soft and warm.

  “I can’t do it with my hands tied.”

  “Listen to you,” Many Clouds teased. “I never thought there would come a time when you would not want to.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth,” Fargo huffed. Of course he wanted to, just not then and there.

  “I would rather put something else.” Many Clouds kissed him and this time her silken tongue met his.

  Despite himself, Fargo grew aroused. “The rope, damn it,” he said when she drew back.

  “No.”

  “I can’t touch you.”

  “That is all right. I can touch you.”

  “You little minx. You aim to have your way with me whether I take part or not.”

  “The idea appeals to me, yes.” Many Clouds rose and went to the flap and tied it. As she came back she hiked at her dress and when she reached him she was naked save for her moccasins. “Do you like what you see?”

  “Was that a trick question?” Fargo was mesmerized by her full breasts and jutting nipples and the dark triangle at the junction of her thighs. His mouth watered as if he were starved for the food he just ate.

  Grinning impishly, Many Clouds stopped, her navel inches from his face. “Can you tell how much I want you?”

  Fargo sniffed and kissed her navel and her skin fluttered. “Yes,” he said, the simple word sounding strained.

  “If you really want me to leave”—Many Clouds rubbed her bush against his chin—“say so.”

  Fargo could barely talk for the constriction in his throat. He was hot all over and hardening where it counted. “I’d spank your backside if my hands were free.”

  “I might like that.” Sinking to her knees, Many Clouds cupped a breast and offered it to him. “Only if you want,” she baited him.

  A low growl issued from Fargo’s throat. Lowering his head, he sucked the nipple into his mouth and tweaked it with the tips of his teeth. She moaned and dug her nails into his arm.

  “I must be crazy to do this but you make me feel so good. While you were gone, all I could think of was this.”

  Fargo nipped harder. He lathered her breast and switched to the other and did the same. Her bosom began to rise and fall and her breathing became husky with desire.

  “I like this very much,” Many Clouds said softly. “I can have my way with you and there is nothing you can do.”

  “Think so, do you?” Fargo bent even lower and nuzzled her thatch. She gasped and recoiled but then ground against his face, her own reddening with raw lust.

  Many Clouds entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. “How do you do this to me?”

  Fargo couldn’t say. His mouth was occupied. He darted his tongue out and in and felt her stiffen. He thought it was because of him until she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. Confused, he raised his head.

  Many Clouds pointed.

  Someone was hitting the flap.

  10

  A male voice called out.

  Many Clouds stepped back and took a moment to compose herself before she responded in a calm, level tone.

  Fargo got the gist of it. The warrior standing guard wanted to know why the flap was tied. She told the warrior that she was feeding him, that his hands were bound and he couldn’t do it himself. Since it was the custom among the Nez Perce to close the flap when the occupants did not wish to be disturbed, she allayed the warrior’s suspicions. He told her not to keep it tied too long.

  Many Clouds motioned to Fargo to be silent and crept to the flap. She pressed an ear to it and listened a bit, then came back and whispered, “It is all right. If we are quiet he will not suspect.”

  “You must really want me,” Fargo teased.

  Many Clouds colored and smiled. “You are like honey. A sweetness I cannot get enough of.”

  “Make it easy.” Fargo shifted and pumped his wrists. “Untie me,” he tried again.

  Many Clouds came up to him and placed her flat belly against his face. “Do your best as you are.”

  Fargo bit her but not too hard. She squeaked and grinned and then put her hands on either side of his head and rubbed her belly back and forth. He rimmed her navel with his tongue, and then licked lower, down her right thigh and up her left. Her skin was as soft as silk, her scent intoxicating. He nuzzled her and she gasped and then she slowly eased onto her back and wantonly parted her legs.

  “I should stop,” Fargo said. “It would serve you right.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You think you have me figured out.”

  Many Clouds cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples and parted her mouth in a delectable O. “When it comes to this, yes. You like it more than you like anything.”

  “I won’t forget what you’ve done.”

  “It would please me to be remembered.”

  Fargo balanced on his knees, and bent. He licked and delved, the while she squirmed and cooed and mashed against him ever harder as her need climbed. When she could not take it any longer she sat up and pulled his pants down around his knees. She bid him sit and straddled him. Then, smiling like a cat about to devour a canary, she gripped his member and stroked.

  The sensation almost made Fargo explode. All he could do was sit there, teetering on the brink, until she rose up and slowly impaled herself.

  “God,” Fargo said.

  Many Clouds pumped up and down in a rising tempo of unbridled passion.

  He tried to inhale a nipple but she was moving so fast her breasts jiggled wildly. Throwing back her head, she arched her body in a bow, her nails raking his shoulders.

  “Yes. Oh yes.”

  Fargo listened for the guard. She was slapping against him loud enough to be heard but she didn’t care. She was at the apex and about to plunge into the abyss of release. Her nails dug deeper, so deep it hurt. To get back at her he bit her shoulder.

  Many Clouds
stiffened and her eyes grew wide. Stifling an outcry, she went over the brink. She gushed and gushed.

  Fargo let himself go. He rammed up into her as best he could sitting on the ground, using the balls of his feet for extra leverage. Again and again he drove up and in until he was drained and spent.

  Many Clouds sagged against his chest and pecked him on the left cheek and then the right. “That was nice.”

  “Glad you had a good time.”

  “You liked it too.” Grinning, she reached down and patted his manhood. “The woman who can have this every night will live her life happy.”

  “Was that a hint?”

  She chuckled, and grabbed her dress. “I will bring you more food if you are still hungry.”

  Fargo nodded at his groin. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “I thought I would leave you like that.” Many Clouds laughed and squatted and pulled his clothes together. “There. Now you are presentable. Is that the right word?”

  “It works both ways,” Fargo said.

  “What does?”

  “The man who gets to have you every night will be a lucky gent. You’re more playful than most.”

  Many Clouds tenderly touched his lips and trembled slightly. “That was a kind thing to say. You act mean at times yet you have a nice heart.”

  “Like hell I do.”

  “You need not be ashamed. Among my people, for a warrior to be a leader he must not only be brave and wise, he must have a good heart.”

  Fargo was aware that other tribes also valued kindness and compassion as much as courage. “So I’ve heard.”

  “Gray Bear has a good heart. He always advises what is best for everyone, even our enemies.” Many Clouds kissed him and skipped to the flap. She untied it, then pursed her lips and blew him a kiss. “I will hope for the best for you.” Ducking her head, she went out.

  Fargo settled back. All he could do was wait. He closed his eyes and figured to drift off but he hadn’t been lying there long when the flap rustled and in came their leader with his son in tow. Fargo sat up and tried to read his fate in their faces.

  Father and son sat with their legs crossed and Small Badger began by announcing, “Our council did decide.”