Doucet uttered a sharp bark. “Do you hear him, Pitre? Do you hear him, Babin? He comes among us and spits on our honor and then tries to talk his way out of it.”
“I was sent for by one of you,” Fargo revealed. “I have his letter in my saddlebags.”
“What do we care if you were invited or not? You are an outsider and that is all that counts.” Doucet raised the blade so the tip was inches from Fargo’s cheek. “Scream if you want. I don’t care if Liana hears and is angry with me. I have this to do.”
“You’re a jackass.”
“Another insult. Even as I hold a knife to your face. You are not strong on brains, outsider.”
The Cajun holding Fargo’s right arm said, “Enough. Do what you will but don’t toy with him.”
“What’s the matter, Babin? No stomach for it?”
“I believe that when you need to hurt a man, you get it over with. You don’t talk him to death.”
“I agree,” Pitre chimed in.
“And you call yourselves my friends?” Doucet said in considerable disgust. “But very well. I’ll cut him and be done with it.”
“No, you won’t,” Fargo said, and swept his boots up from the ground and slammed them against Doucet’s chest. Doucet bleated in surprise and stumbled back. Instantly, Fargo shifted, throwing all his weight into throwing Pitre off-balance. He succeeded. Pitre lost his hold and fell to one knee. Babin, caught flat-footed, recovered and tried to trip Fargo and bring him down but Fargo unleashed an uppercut that sent Babin tottering.
Doucet came at him with the knife.
Fargo sidestepped, clamped both hands on the Cajun’s arm, and drove his knee into Doucet’s elbow. There was a crack, and Doucet stiffened and screeched. Fargo silenced him with a right cross that felled Doucet in his tracks.
Pitre and Babin sprang from opposite sides—Pitre with his arms out and his fingers hooked like claws; Babin going low to tackle Fargo around the legs.
Moving too swiftly for their eyes to follow, Fargo caught Pitre with a backhand to the face while simultaneously kicking Babin in the head. Both men drew away and Fargo went after Pitre. He ducked a wild swing and rammed his fist into Pitre’s mouth. Blood spurted from pulped lips. A quick chop ended it.
That left Babin. He had scrambled to one side and was in a crouch. “No more, monsieur.”
Fargo’s dander was up. “Why should I spare you?”
“We were wrong, monsieur. And two wrongs don’t make a right. Isn’t that what they say?”
“There’s another saying I’m fond of,” Fargo said. “Maybe you’ve heard of it. An eye for an eye.” He took a bound and planted his boot in Babin’s face. Babin tried to dodge but he was too slow. Knocked flat onto his back, he held both palms out.
“I will not fight you. Beat me if you want but for me this is over.”
Fargo moved to Doucet. The rooster was out to the world, blood dribbling from his mouth. “When he comes around tell him something for me.”
“Let me guess. Should he lift a finger against you again, he would be wise to have a coffin made first.”
“I couldn’t have said it better.” Fargo looked at Babin. “Get it through your heads that I might be an outsider but I was sent for. I’m here to help.”
“Help do what, exactly?”
Fargo didn’t answer. Instead, he wheeled and went into the tavern. Apparently no one had heard the ruckus, or if they had, they chose to ignore it. Several men had claimed his table in his absence so he stalked to the bar, and when Liana came over he asked for a bottle.
“Is something the matter?”
“Doucet.”
“Not again?”
“Some idiots never learn.” Fargo upended the red-eye and chugged. “The good news is, he didn’t spoil my mood.”
“Your mood?” Liana said quizzically, and smiled. “Oh. Thank goodness. Although I have heard that men are always in the mood.”
Fargo stayed at the bar. The Cajuns wanted nothing to do with him and left him alone, which suited him fine. Most left long before closing time, heading home to their wives and children. He downed half the bottle by eleven and was the last man in the tavern.
“At last I can close. It’s been a long day. I need to relax.”
Fargo gave her another of his hungry looks. “I know just the way.”
“I bet you do.” Liana stood in front of him, her breasts nearly brushing his chest. “I hope you are not all talk. I would be très disappointed.”
Without any hint of what he was about to do, Fargo cupped her twin mounds and squeezed. Liana arched her back, her cherry lips forming a delectable O. A soft sigh issued from her throat. When she looked at him she had a hunger in her eyes to match his.
“What is good for the goose is good for the gander, non?”
She cupped him, low down.
Now it was Fargo’s turn to go rigid with tingling pleasure. He felt her stroke him and his pole became iron. “And you said I was bold?”
“You will find that most Cajun women are not shy about their needs,” Liana informed him. “When we see a man we like, we go after him.”
“Do you have any sisters?”
Liana laughed, and Fargo glued his mouth to hers. His tongue met hers in a velvet swirl as he kneaded her breasts with one hand while roving his other down over her flat belly to the junction of her thighs.
Breaking the kiss, Liana stepped back. “Non.”
For a moment Fargo thought she had been toying with him, that the whole thing was an act. “Why not?”
Liana gestured at the windows. “Someone might look in. I have a room in the back. It is most comfortable, with a nice bed. Permit me to lock up and put out the lamps.”
Fargo liked the idea of a bed over the floor or a tabletop. “Whatever you want.” He patted her bottom as she moved past. “I’m in no hurry. I have all night.” He only hoped the man he was supposed to meet showed up. The letter had been sent six weeks ago, and the man might have changed his mind or be dead for all he knew. “Tell me. Do you know a gent by the name of Namo?”
“Oui. Namo Heuse,” Liana answered while drawing a brocaded curtain over a window. “A good man. He lives deep in the swamp. Deeper in than anyone. He has a son named Clovis and a daughter named Halette.” She looked over her shoulder, sorrow marking her features. “It is terrible, really.”
“What?”
“Namo had a charming wife. I liked her a lot. Emmeline, she was called. A most capable woman. She knew the swamp and the bayous as good as anyone, and she was a good shot, but neither saved her.”
“How do you mean?”
“She is one of those who have gone missing. About two months ago, now, I think it was. She left the settlement with her daughter but never made it home. Everyone joined in the search but she was never found.” Liana paused. “We found Halette, though.”
“Did she say what happened to her mother?”
“She told us nothing, monsieur. She was found clinging to branches high in a tree and would not say a word to her rescuers. Nor has she said a word since. The doctor says it is the shock. A pitiable sight to see her sitting in a chair, not moving, not even blinking.” Liana shuddered. “She must have seen the monster. She must have seen what it did to her mother.”
“How do you know a gator didn’t get her?”
“Not Emmeline. She was too careful, that one. Besides, I haven’t told you about the blood. At the base of the tree where they found the girl was so much blood, it sickened me to look at it.”
“There must have been tracks.”
“Oh, we are sure there were. But someone erased them.”
“What?”
Liana was moving toward the other window. “Someone took an axe or a pick to the ground. It was chopped up, with clods of dirt everywhere. Any tracks were destroyed.”