“What?”
“You heard me. And do it pronto or lose a knee.” Reluctantly, his hands out from his sides, Fargo counted the steps off. He could see the toothpick but it might as well be on the moon for all the good it was doing him.
Tull could see it, too. “What is that?” he demanded as he warily came over. He kicked the chair aside, and squatted. “Well, lookee here.” He held the toothpick high so the blade caught the candle glow.
Fargo sensed what was coming and braced himself. “So this is what I get for sparing you? A knife in the gizzard?” Tull rose. “You miserable son of a bitch.”
Mary tried to say something through her gag.
“Shut up, cow,” Tull snapped. He tossed the toothpick onto the table and advanced on Fargo, a vicious sneer curling his cruel face. “I’ve changed my mind, mister. If Cud wants to know who you are and what you were doing here, he can ask you in hell.”
Fargo tried to dodge the boot rising toward his gut but he was too slow. Pain brought him to his knees. He flung out his arms to ward off a second kick and never saw the sweep of the Colt but he felt the blow to his temple. The next he knew, he was on his side with the killer gloating over him.
“Any last words, mister? Any begging you care to do? It won’t change anything but you can grovel if you want.”
Fargo glared.
“Tough bastard, is that it? Well, we’ll see. It’s been a while since I stomped anyone to death.”
Over in the corner Mary and Nelly were trying to speak and thrashing wildly about.
“You’re going to be a long time dying.”
Jayce began kicking the wall.
“Cut that out!” Tull growled, not taking his eyes off Fargo. “All that fuss to keep me from kicking your teeth in. They must like you, mister. When I’m done, I’ll give each of them a tooth as a keepsake.”
Fargo placed his hands flat on the floor. He had one chance and one chance only.
“This is going to be fun,” Tull said, and raised his boot.
7
Fargo stood no chance in a fight. He was too weak to last long. Tull knew it but he had overlooked one thing. Fargo didn’t have to last if he could bring Tull down quickly. So as Tull raised his leg to stomp him, Fargo resorted to the dirtiest trick there was; he drove his fist up and in, slamming his knuckles into Tull’s groin.
The killer cursed and staggered back. Sputtering, he clutched himself. His face became red, almost purple. “You’re dead, you bastard.” He tried to raise his pearl-handled Colt.
Fargo heaved off the floor. The movement made him light-headed, but he lashed out, swatting Tull’s wrist just as the Colt went off. The revolver thundered loud in the confines of the cabin. The slug missed him and struck a wall.
“Kill you!” Tull railed, and thumbed back the hammer to try again.
Fargo punched him, a short, brutal chop to the throat that sent Tull crashing onto his side.
Now the sounds that came from Tull’s throat weren’t words. They were gurgles and snarls. He’d dropped the Colt and now he grabbed for it, his fingers rigid claws.
Bending, Fargo punched him again, in the side of the neck. Not once, but three times, and after the third blow Tull broke out in convulsions and loud whines burst from his gaping mouth.
Fargo reached for the Colt. He moved as slow as a turtle but he got it in his hand. He cocked it and placed the muzzle against Tull’s forehead. “You shouldn’t treat a lady like that.” He squeezed the trigger.
The commotion in the corner had ceased. Mary and her young ones were gaping at the brains and hair and gore. Nelly made gagging sounds. Jayce laughed with glee.
Wincing, Fargo reclaimed his toothpick and shuffled over. “I’ll have you free in a moment.” Since he couldn’t trust his legs, he sat down. Mary was on her knees, staring at him, and there was a question in her eyes. He removed the gag and threw the cloth aside. “Did he hurt you any?”
“No. I’m more worried about you. You’re as white as a sheet.”
Fargo nodded at the brains and the blood. “Sorry about the mess.”
“He didn’t give you a choice.”
“You’re safe now,” Fargo said, and began carefully cutting the rope around her wrists.
“I wish that were true. But Cud Sten will be here soon. Tull was a friend of his. He won’t like this one bit. And he won’t care that you were defending yourself.”
“Who says he has to find out?”
“You mean bury the body where Cud will never find it? That still leaves Tull’s horse. I’d take it up into the mountains and leave it in a box canyon I know of—only with all the snow, it would starve.”
“We can say the horse showed up by itself,” Fargo suggested. “Then we’ll show him the dead wolves and let him add two and two himself.”
Mary smiled. “It just might work. So long as Cud doesn’t catch on that you were the one the wolves nearly tore apart.”
“So long as I don’t go around naked, he won’t suspect.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she gave a light cough. “You can wear some of Frank’s clothes. You’re taller than he was, so they might not fit all that well, but it’s the best we can do.”
The rope finally parted and Fargo gave the toothpick to her. He was on the brink of collapse. With difficulty, he stood and moved to the stove. The pot of chicken soup was cold but he didn’t care. He took a ladle from a hook and carried the pot and the ladle and the Colt to the table. Setting the Colt down, he ate as one starved.
“You’d better chew that or you’ll make yourself sick,” Mary cautioned, coming over. She had cut Nelly free and Nelly was doing the same for her brother. “I can heat it if you’d like.”
“No,” Fargo said with his mouth crammed.
“Would you care for some coffee? I don’t have much left but I’ll put a pot on to brew.”
Fargo was tempted but the coffee might keep him up and he needed sleep as much as he needed anything. “Maybe in the morning.”
The children crossed to their mother and she draped her arms over their shoulders.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Fargo told them. He meant it. Kids and horses—he didn’t like to see either suffer.
Nelly shrugged. “It was no worse than that day we watched the grizzly eat our pa.”
“I’d like to see you shoot him again,” Jayce said. “He was mean to my ma. He had it coming.”
Mary knelt and took hold of her son’s hands. “Now who is being mean? No one ever deserves to die.”
Fargo disagreed, and ladled more soup into his mouth to keep from saying so.
“But you’re right in one respect,” Mary went on. “Sometimes the only way to deal with men like Mr. Tull is to do what no one should ever have to do.”
Fargo had lost count of the number of times he’d had to do it. The frontier was chock-full of Tulls. They came in all sizes and guises, and they all had one trait in common: They were heartless bastards who didn’t care who they hurt.
“Now why don’t the two of you scoot to bed while I take care of Mr. Tull?” Mary hugged and kissed first Nelly and then Jayce, and they headed for a door on the other side of the room.
“I’ll help you,” Fargo offered.
“You’ll do no such thing. It would only make you worse.” Mary stared down at the body. “It shouldn’t be all that hard for me to drag him outside. In the morning I’ll bury him if I can find a spot of ground soft enough.”
Fargo hadn’t thought of that. What with the cold and the snow, the ground would be rock hard. “That was a nice talk you gave your boy.”
“You think so? He’s young yet. He doesn’t need to know the truth.”