Puzzled, Fargo asked, “Which truth are we talking about?”
“Tull did deserve that bullet. He was as vicious as those wolves. The wolves, though, had an excuse. They were hungry. Tull was just a miserable son of a bitch who would have done the world a favor if he’d been stillborn.”
The shock of her language took a few seconds to wear off so that Fargo could say, “And here I reckoned you were one of those weak sisters who sticks her head in the sand rather than take life as it is.”
“I suppose I gave that impression. But it was for my son’s and daughter’s benefit. The harsh realities of life will beat on them soon enough. I don’t see a reason to hurry it along.”
Fargo found himself admiring her more and more. “One face for your kids and one for the mirror?”
“Something like that, yes,” Mary answered with a grin. “You catch on quick. Are you a parent, yourself?”
“Hell, no. I’m not ready to set down roots.” Then there was the little matter of meeting the right woman.
“It’s hard, Skye. Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do, and that includes giving birth. But I wouldn’t trade being a mother for all the ill-gotten gains Cud Sten makes from his rustling and robbing.”
Fargo put a hand on the Colt. “I hope Tull has plenty of ammunition in his saddlebags.”
Those lovely emerald eyes of her narrowed. “Surely you don’t have the notion I think you’re toying with? You’re one man and he’ll have seven or eight others with him. All as vicious as Tull.”
“He’s made your life miserable long enough.”
“No, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Besides the odds, there’s the shape you’re in.”
“I can mend a lot before he gets here.”
“But why? We hardly know each other.”
“I like what I know. I like it a lot.”
“Oh.” Mary looked away. When she faced him again, there was the same question in her eyes. But she quickly recovered her composure. “You finish eating your food and I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes, Ma,” Fargo teased.
Mary laughed, the first real laugh he heard from her. She covered her mouth as if self-conscious of what she had done, then said, “You perplex me, sir. More than any man I ever met.”
“Does that include your Frank?”
“Frank was a good man. He was devoted and hardworking. A simple man, some would say.” Mary paused. “But I suspect there’s nothing simple about you. There’s nothing simple at all.”
“I’m as ordinary as water.”
Mary glanced at Tull. “Say what you will, but I know better.” She went into the bedroom and came out with a blanket. Spreading it on the floor, she rolled Tull onto it. It took some doing. She was huffing when she was done. She placed Tull’s hat on his chest and went to wrap the blanket around him.
“Wait.” Fargo had eaten enough that newfound vitality was coursing through his veins. He got up and went over and hunkered. “Waste not, want not, I’ve heard folks say.” He began to go through the dead man’s pockets.
“I should have thought of it,” Mary said.
Fargo found the usual. A pocketknife. A plug of tobacco. A crumpled letter he had no interest in. And a poke that jangled. He undid the tie string and upended the poke over the floor and out spilled double eagles and other coins and a wad of bills.
“My word, where did all that come from?”
“That rustling and robbing you were talking about, remember?” Fargo counted it. “Two hundred and forty-seven dollars.”
“That’s more than my Frank and I had at any one time in all the years we were married.”
Fargo kept the forty-seven for himself. He put the two hundred back in the poke and placed it in her hand. “Here.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
Mary stared at it and trembled slightly. “I couldn’t. It’s not right.”
“He sure as hell has no use for it.”
“But like you say, he got it by dishonest means.”
“So? If you knew where he got it from, you could give some of it back if it bothered you that much, but you don’t. And it would be stupid to let it go to waste. It’s yours, and that’s that.”
“Oh, Skye.”
A tingle ran down Fargo’s spine, startling him. “Don’t make more of it than there is,” he said more gruffly than he intended.
“Do you realize what this means for me and my children?”
Fargo patted the forty-seven dollars. “For me this means a poker game and a bottle of whiskey.” He unbuckled Tull’s gun belt and stripped it off. Then he wrapped the body in the blanket, stood, and took hold of the shoulders. “You get the other end and we’ll drag him out.”
“You’re in no condition,” Mary warned. “I can do it myself.”
“We don’t have all night. My cold soup is getting colder, and I’d like to eat a little more before I turn in.”
Reluctantly, Mary did as he wanted. Working together they hauled the body to the front door. Fargo was caked with sweat and could barely stand, but he opened the door and helped her push the body out. When he straightened, he swayed and had to the grip the wall to stay on his feet.
“See? I told you.” Mary stood at his side and hooked her arm around his waist. “Lean on me. I’ll get you to bed.”
“You’ll get me to the table. I told you I’m not done eating.”
“Why are men so stubborn?”
“Why do women ask such silly questions?”
Mary grinned. She pushed the door shut with her foot and helped him to the chair, then sat in the one next to him. Her chin in her hands, she regarded him thoughtfully.
“Where will you go from here?” Fargo asked between mouthfuls. “With that money you can start a whole new life.”
“Go? We don’t have a horse, remember? Let alone three.”
“Cud Sten does. I’m sure he and his men have lots of horses. Enough for all of you and for pack animals to take out your pots and pans and whatnot.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not if you’re only doing it for me. I don’t want you hurt on my account.”
Fargo grinned a lopsided grin. “You can’t take all the credit. There’re the kids.”
Mary looked into his eyes. “What kind of man are you?”
“The kind who needs a lot of sleep.” Fargo’s belly was about fit to explode and his eyelids had grown heavy.
“No. Really. I’d like to know.”
“Hell.” Fargo sat back. “I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like every other man.”
Mary coughed, then said softly, “Thank you.”
“Thank me in three or four days. This Cud Sten could turn out to be as tough as you say.”
“He is. And he’s got a man with him who is downright scary. Rika, they call him.” Mary paused. “I was thinking we would hide you.”
“Like you did with Tull?”
“Off in the trees. We could make you a lean-to.”
“No.”
“You can die, you know. Everyone will.”
“We start dying the moment we’re born. A couple days from now or a couple years, it all ends the same.” The important thing to Fargo was that she and her kids weren’t caught in a hail of lead.
“You worry me. You worry me considerably.”
“Good,” Fargo said, and grinned.
8
Fargo slept eighteen hours, and when he woke up, he was famished. He no sooner sat up than Mary entered the bedroom, smiling, and informed him she had a surprise. He thought it was the pile of clothes she had placed by the bed for him to pick from.
His buckskins had been ripped and torn in so many places that until he got the spare set out of his saddlebags or made new ones, he had to make do with a shirt and pants that belonged to her husband. Neither fit well. The pants, in particular, were too short, and too tight at the crotch. His manhood stood out as if sculpted, which made him grin.