The three women who came strolling toward him wore the coarse clothes typical of those in their line of work. Their shirts were homespun, their pants and belts commonplace, their boots scuffed. But there was nothing coarse or common or scuffed about them. Despite their clothes, they were as beautiful as women could be, or ever hope to be.
Even more remarkably, they were identical in every respect. Not a shade of difference existed between them, except that one wore a brown shirt, one wore black and the third’s shirt was striped.
Their hair was a unique mix of red and copper and shimmered like burnished metal. Their eyebrows were arched, their noses were finely aquiline, their lips red and full, but not too full. Their eyes were a piercing green that seemed to dance with inner flames.
When they moved, they were grace in motion, smooth and fluid, yet unassuming.
In short, the triplets were superb in every facet, human diamonds without flaw.
‘‘I would like you to meet the Frazier sisters,’’ Krupp said, and grinned.
The trio was remarkable in another respect. Most women went around unarmed. But not the Fraziers. Each wore a revolver and a belt knife and held a coiled bullwhip. Something about the way they held those whips suggested they were extremely adept at wielding them.
All three grinned, showing teeth as dazzling white as polished pearls.
Then the vision in the brown shirt said, ‘‘What do we have here, sisters?’’
‘‘I do declare,’’ said the one in black. ‘‘We have struck the mother lode.’’
The one in the striped shirt looked Fargo up and down. ‘‘We will have to draw lots.’’
All Fargo could do was stare. Their voices were as perfect as the rest of them, almost musical in pitch and tone, yet convening a sensual quality that set a man’s spine to tingling.
‘‘It looks as if the cat has his tongue,’’ joked Brown Shirt.
‘‘Lucky cat,’’ said Black Shirt.
Striped Shirt laughed. ‘‘You would think he had been kicked in the head by a mule.’’
Fargo, for one of the few times in his life, was still speechless with wonderment.
Krupp was taking delight in the situation. ‘‘You must forgive him, ladies. From what I hear, it is the first time he has ever set eyes on you.’’
‘‘We do tend to have an effect, don’t we?’’ bantered Brown Shirt.
‘‘It is not our fault,’’ said the black-shirted triplet. ‘‘We were born this way.’’
Striped Shirt nodded. ‘‘Life is like cards. We are dealt what we are dealt and must make the best of it.’’
With a toss of his head, Fargo broke their spell. ‘‘So you are the Fraziers. I can see why everyone makes such a fuss.’’ He looked at Krupp. ‘‘But it doesn’t change a thing. Tell your boss it didn’t work.’’
Krupp acted as if he had not heard. ‘‘Let me introduce them.’’ He pointed at the triplet in brown. ‘‘This is Myrtle. ’’ At the triplet in black. ‘‘This is Mavis.’’ At the triplet in the striped shirt. ‘‘And this is Cleopatra.’’
Fargo could not help himself. He snorted in amusement. ‘‘Cleopatra?’’
The third sister flashed those white teeth of hers. ‘‘Our ma was partial to the name. She heard about a queen somewhere who had it once.’’
‘‘Egypt,’’ Myrtle said. ‘‘The country was Egypt. How many times must I remind you?’’
‘‘Don’t start,’’ Cleopatra said. ‘‘I don’t care where it was. I have never liked the name and never will. Ma made me a laughingstock. I would rather have a name that begins with an M, like you and Mavis, and Ma herself.’’
‘‘You have it backward,’’ Mavis said. ‘‘Our family has been giving girls names with an M for as long as I can remember. Myrtle. Me. Ma was Margaret. Her sister was Mary. Her sister’s girls were Milly and May. Our cousins were Marjorie, Marigold, Matty and Minny. It is stupid. I would give anything to have a name like yours. A name that does not begin with an M.’’
Krupp gestured. ‘‘Enough. We are not here to talk about names. I have heard this bickering before and I am tired of it.’’
As one, the three sisters stared at him. As one, each held her bullwhip in front of her at waist height.
‘‘I don’t know as I like your tone,’’ Myrtle said.
‘‘Me either,’’ Mavis echoed.
Cleopatra gave her bullwhip a sharp shake. ‘‘No one tells us what to do. Ever. Do you need a reminder?’’
Fargo was puzzled to see Krupp take a step back and hold up both hands, palms out. The man had stood up to him—yet he was wary of tangling with the triplets.
‘‘Now you just hold on, Cleo. I have always respected you gals and you know it.’’
Cleopatra frowned but lowered her whip. ‘‘Yes, Captain, you have. But I still did not like your tone. My sisters and me have had to scrabble hard to make it in this world, and we will not be slighted on account of our being women.’’
‘‘When have I ever?’’ Krupp countered. ‘‘I made the three of you my lieutenants, didn’t I?’’
Fargo was familiar with how freighters were organized. Each train had a captain and usually a couple of lieutenants who passed on his orders and helped ensure things went as they should. The drivers took turns watching over the animals at night, although on some trains, a man was chosen as night wrangler and had the job for the duration.
‘‘I would never treat you any different than I do the men,’’ Krupp was assuring the sisters. ‘‘Now please. You were sent over here for a purpose, remember?’’
All three switched those dazzling green eyes of theirs from the captain to Fargo.
‘‘We hear that Mr. Cranmeyer wants you to join our train,’’ Cleopatra said softly, coming closer.
‘‘But for some reason you told him no,’’ Myrtle huskily mentioned, doing the same.
‘‘What can we do to get you to say yes?’’ Mavis asked, and hefted her bullwhip.
Fargo smothered a laugh. He could not decide if they were threatening him or appealing to the part of a man that needed no convincing where women were concerned.
‘‘You don’t say a lot,’’ Cleopatra said.
Fargo disagreed. ‘‘I do when I have something to say. I told Cranmeyer, I told Krupp, and now I am telling you. I am not going with you.’’
‘‘What if we make it worth your while?’’ From Myrtle.
‘‘How?’’
Myrtle touched her coiled whip to his hip and slowly ran it down to his knee. ‘‘Can’t you guess?’’
Fargo’s confusion climbed. One minute they were going on about how they were struggling for respect in a man’s world; the next they were practically throwing themselves at him. It made no sense. ‘‘If that is all, ladies, ’’ he said, and started to back through the doorway.
‘‘Hold on,’’ Mavis said, clutching his hand. ‘‘We are not accustomed to a man saying no.’’
‘‘Hell, I don’t even know what I said no to,’’ Fargo said, twisting loose.
‘‘Why won’t you lend Mr. Cranmeyer a hand?’’ Myrtle asked. ‘‘He says that he is willing to pay you extra. More, in fact, than he is paying anyone else.’’
‘‘Why is that?’’ Cleopatra wanted to know.
‘‘What makes you so special?’’ Mavis chimed in.
Krupp cleared his throat. ‘‘I can answer that one, ladies. Fargo, here, has done a lot of scouting for the army. He has fought redskins more times than all our drivers and guards put together and lived to tell the tale.’’
‘‘You don’t say,’’ Myrtle said, impressed.
‘‘Not only that,’’ Krupp continued, ‘‘but he has fought Apaches. Even better, he has been in the Mimbres Mountains a few times. He knows the trails, the water holes.’’
Fargo’s brow knit in perplexity. ‘‘And how is it you know all that?’’