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Doucet.

Fury gripped Fargo. Sheer, red-hot fury. He’d spared the fool and this was how Doucet repaid him. As yet, Doucet hadn’t realized he was awake. Fargo remedied that. Abruptly rolling, he deliberately fell over the side of the bed. He landed next to his gun belt and molded the Colt to his palm. He thought Doucet would come around after him and he would blow the Cajun to kingdom come. But there was a gasp, and then nothing. He sat up.

Doucet was on his knees on the bed, his blade to Liana’s throat. Grinning smugly, he said, “We meet again.”

“For the last time.”

“I agree.” Doucet’s eyes glittered. “You will drop your revolver or I will cut her.”

Liana’s own eyes reflected mute appeal. She started to move but Doucet grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back, further exposing her throat.

“Don’t move, ma chère. I do not want to harm you. But you have brought this on yourself by sleeping with this pig.”

“Where are your friends?” Fargo asked.

“Pitre and Babin refused to help. They said I should let it drop. That you had proven the better man.” Doucet swore. “They said that to me. As if the likes of you could ever be my better.”

“Let her go. This is between you and me.”

“No.”

“Then all your talk about caring for her was a lie.” Fargo tensed his legs for his push off the floor.

“To the contrary. But a man does what he must. Now you will drop that revolver as I have told you or she bleeds. Do you want her death on your conscience?”

“I’d rather have your brains splattered all over a wall. But you win.” Fargo let the Colt fall.

“Excellent. Now stand up.”

“Whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.” Fargo put both hands flat and began to rise. His right hand was only inches from the Colt. He didn’t glance down at it, though. That would give him away.

“Most excellent,” Doucet gloated. Then he did something Fargo didn’t expect: he ducked behind Liana so that only part of his face was visible, a cheek and one eye. “Nice and slow, yes?”

Fargo kept on rising but he didn’t snatch up the Colt as he intended. He needed to be sure. There must be no risk to Liana. His pants slid down around his ankles, bunching about his boots.

“Hold your arms out from your sides,” Doucet commanded, “and back up until you are against the far wall.”

Reluctantly, Fargo complied.

Only then did Doucet slide off the bed and step away from Liana. He shoved her as he did, growling, “Stay on that bed, woman.” A few quick steps brought him to the Colt, which he picked up and cocked.

“How dare you lay a hand on me!” Liana fumed, rising on her elbows. “I will tell everyone what you have done.”

“Go right ahead. You haven’t been harmed. As for this outsider—” and he gestured with the Colt at Fargo—“no one will care what I do to him.”

“The person who sent for him will.”

“So he claims. But he hasn’t said who it was, or why.” Doucet shook his head. “No one will care that another outsider became lost in the swamp and was never heard from again. Or that is the story we will tell if anyone should come looking for him.”

Liana glanced worriedly at Fargo then softened her tone toward Doucet. “Please. I ask you nicely. Don’t harm him. We have been friendly, have we not? Spare him as a favor to me?”

“True, we have been friends,” Doucet said. “Until the moment you slept with this pig. Now I no longer care if you live or die.”

“Damn you.”

Doucet laughed and addressed Fargo. “Women. Ce n’est pas la peine. N’est-ce pas?” When Fargo didn’t answer, he translated, “They are not worth the trouble. Isn’t that right?”

“You are the pig here,” Liana said.

“How soon they turn on us, eh?” Doucet went on addressing Fargo. “One day they hold our hand and go for a walk with us, and the next they glare at us and call us pigs.”

“I want you out of my room, out of my tavern, out of my life.”

“What you want, my dear, and what will happen, are two different things.” Doucet pointed the Colt at Fargo’s chest. “The question now is whether I kill you outright or have fun with you a while.”

“No, Doucet, please,” Liana said.

“Shut up. Another word out of you, just one, and I swear I will shoot him. Not to kill, mind you. I want him to suffer. I’ll shoot him in the knee, perhaps. Or in that tool of his he used on you.” Doucet glanced down. “Mon Dieu. That I should be so endowed.”

Fargo had stayed silent long enough. To keep the Cajun’s tongue wagging he revealed, “The gent who sent for me is called Namo Heuse. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

Doucet’s brow puckered. “Namo? Oui. I know him well. But what would he want with an outsider?”

“He sent me a letter by way of the army. I work for them at times. I scout. I track. The letter doesn’t say exactly why he wanted me to come. Only that he needs my help to avenge the death of someone he loved.”

Liana sat up on the bed. “Je comprends. You know about Namo’s wife, Doucet. I think Namo wants him to track the thing that killed Emmeline.”

Doucet glared at her. “I told you to be quiet, remember?” To Fargo he said, “Namo is a good man but he’s a fool. This isn’t the prairie. The swamp and bayous are mostly water and nothing leaves tracks in water.”

Fargo shrugged. “I reckon he figures I can help him.”

“He will be disappointed, then, that I had to kill you for the sake of my honor.”

“No!” Liana cried. “Think, Doucet. For once in your life don’t let your temper get the better of you. Think of how many people have gone missing. Think of how many the monster has killed. And it will go on killing unless it’s stopped.” She slid to the edge of the bed. “Perhaps you are right and this man can’t help us. But what if he can? What if he can put a stop to the killings? Think of all the lives that will be saved. Cajun lives.”

Doucet didn’t say anything.

“You speak of your honor. But it was you who started this. No one will think highly of you for murdering him. But they will think highly of you if you spare him. You have him at your mercy. But let him live for the good of our people. Show that you have true honor.”

Lowering the Colt, Doucet gnawed on his lower lip.

“Spare him, and I won’t hold this against you,” Liana went on trying to persuade him. “You and I will still be friends. You will still be welcome here.”

“I don’t know,” Doucet said uncertainly. “You might forgive me but he certainly won’t.”

“How about that, Skye?” Liana asked. “He hasn’t harmed you. Are you willing to let bygones be bygones?”

Fargo didn’t see where he had much of a choice. “How do I know I won’t end up with his blade in my back?”

“Doucet isn’t a coward,” Liana said. “When he kills you, he will be facing you.”

Doucet looked at her and the suggestion of a smile curled his lips. “I thank you for that. And I have given it thought. You are right. Our people must come first.” He backed to the doorway and when he reached it he set the Colt on the floor. “I spare you, outsider. But hear this. Watch what you say and what you do. Insult me or my people again and I will not forgive. Comprenez-vous?” He didn’t wait for an answer but wheeled and was gone.

“Well,” Fargo said, lowering his arms. “That didn’t end like I thought it would.”

Liana sank back in relief on the pillows. “You don’t know how close you came.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Fargo said. Hiking his pants so he could walk, he sat next to her. “I have you to thank.”