Using only his legs, Rika goaded his horse nearer. “Turn so your back is to me and hold our arms out from your sides.”
Fargo did so, chafing inside at his run of bad luck. He felt a slight tug on his holster. The pearl-handled Colt was gone.
“You can turn around now.”
Rika had moved back out of reach and lowered the rifle to his waist, but it was still fixed on Fargo’s chest. He hefted the Colt. “This belonged to a friend of mine. That horse is his, too. How is it you have them?”
“I lost my horse in the blizzard. I about died from the cold and the snow, and then I came on this animal and a man lying dead with a broken arrow stuck in him.”
Rika’s face showed no hint of whether he bought the story. “And why is it you were hiding behind that tree when we came by?”
Fargo shrugged. “I was on my way out of the mountains. I heard you and your friends coming and didn’t know if you’d be friendly.”
Again Rika showed no emotion. He wedged the pearl-handled Colt under his belt, pointed the rifle at the ground, and fired two quick shots, which echoed off the high slopes like so much thunder.
Fargo tried another smile. “What are you doing here, anyway? And with a bunch of cows? Is there a ranch nearby I don’t know about?”
“Cud Sten will ask the questions. He’ll be here shortly.”
Fargo wore his best poker face. He was in for it unless they believed him.
His nerves tingling, he heard riders approach. Soon they were all there, ringing him, their revolvers out and cocked.
Cud Sten hadn’t drawn his. He reined up next to Rika and listened to a brief recital of Fargo’s account. Then Cud fixed his dark eyes on Fargo.
“That’s your story, is it, mister?”
Fargo nodded.
“It could be you’re telling the truth. Then again, it could be you’re an egg-sucking bastard. And if you killed my pard to get his horse and gun, you’ll die in more pain than you can imagine.”
“I’ve never stolen a horse in my life,” Fargo said. “If I’d know your ranch was nearby, I’d have guessed the man rode for you and gone there to tell you I found him.”
“My ranch?” Cud said, and glanced at Rika.
“The cows,” Rika said.
That seemed to amuse Cud Sten. “So you reckon I’m a rancher, huh? Do you hear that, boys?”
Some of the others laughed.
“Why else would you be herding cows in all this snow?” Fargo feigned ignorance.
“Makes you wonder,” Cud said.
“I’d be obliged if I could stay a night or two to rest up. As for this horse, I’ll pay for him, or another if you have one to spare.”
Cud’s interest perked and he leaned forward. “Have a lot of money on you, do you?”
“Hardly any,” Fargo said. The money that they had taken from Tull was wrapped up in his saddlebags. “You’d have to sell it to me cheap.”
The redhead gigged his mount closer and wagged his six-shooter. “I don’t believe a word this coyote says. I say we blast him and be on our way.”
Cud Sten’s features hardened. “Are you the boss now, Lear? Are you giving orders now?”
The redhead blanched. “No, Cud! Never. Not me. I wouldn’t ever do that. I’m just saying, is all.”
For a few seconds all eyes were on Sten as if they expected an explosion of violence.
“Is that a fact?”
“Please, Cud. I’ve been with you a long time. You know me.”
Cud Sten smiled, and the others visibly relaxed. “I’ll let it pass this time. But only because I’m in a good mood.”
“Lucky devil,” one of the others said.
Cud turned to Fargo. “I don’t rightly know what to do with you yet, so I’m taking you with me until I do. If it turns out you’re lying, I’ll do things to you that would make an Apache green with envy. If you have any objections, let me hear them.”
Fargo starred at the ring of hard faces and the ring of revolver muzzles, and he did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He smiled and spread his hands. “Where are we headed?”
12
Fargo’s luck wasn’t all bad. They didn’t tie him or search him. Two did ride on either side of him, their hands on their six-shooters. Rika was up ahead, the rest behind with the cows.
One of those guarding him was Lear, and Fargo tried to strike up a conversation.
“You don’t like strangers much, I take it?”
“I don’t like anybody. So shut the hell up.”
When Rika came to the tracks Fargo had discovered earlier, he drew rein. Cud Sten rode up and asked why Rika had stopped.
“Another shod horse,” Rika said, pointing at the hoof prints. “Not Tull’s. It went that way.” He pointed across the grassy flatland.
“Another white man hereabouts?” Cud Sten rubbed his club on his chin. “The Beartooths are right popular all of a sudden. It can’t be the gent we stole these cows from. We lost him and his hands days ago. Can’t be a lawman, either. The law never comes this far in.”
“Want me to have a look-see?”
“Of course. We’ll be at the cabin. Bring him back breathing. Maybe he’s a pard of simpleton here.” Cud waved his club at Fargo. “If so, they’ll have a heap of explaining to do.”
Rika nodded and trotted toward the far trees.
Cud rose in the stirrups and bellowed at the men tending the cows, “Keep ’em moving. I aim to reach her place before dark. If we don’t, it will rile me, and you don’t want me riled.”
Fargo clucked to the sorrel and brought it up next to Sten’s animal. Neither Lear nor the other guard tried to stop him. “Mind if we talk?”
Cud regarded him with a mix of contempt and curiosity. “What’s on your mind, simpleton?”
“What do you aim to do with me?”
“I’ve already done told you. I don’t rightly know. Could be you’re just passing through—in which case maybe I’ll let you live. Could be you told me a pack of lies—in which case I’ll break every bone in your body before I pound your skull in.”
Fargo nodded at the club. “I don’t see many of those.”
“They’re right handy.” Grinning, Cud smacked the club against the palm of his other hand. “As quiet as a knife and better than a pair of fists.” He patted the club.
“How’d you come to use one?”
“The first time was in a saloon fight. I busted a chair over a fella’s head and it broke. He had some friends, and I took a chair leg to them. I liked it so much, I had this made.” Cud fondled the thick end of the club. “Can’t tell you how many heads I’ve split open.” He gave Fargo a meaningful look.
“I heard you mention a cabin. Is that where you’re taking me?”
“A lady friend of mine lives there. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t go anywhere near her. I’ve got plans for that little lady.”
“To be hitched?”
“Hell, simpleton, I ain’t the marrying kind. No, me and her are going to live in sin, as church folk say.”
“The lady likes that idea, does she?”
“Whether she does or she doesn’t, she don’t have a say.” Cud licked his thick lips. “I’ve been after this filly for a long time now and she keeps putting me off. But not anymore. This time I’m having my way.” He stopped and scowled. “Why the hell am I telling you this? I don’t know you from Adam. Go back with the cows and don’t pester me.”
“One more thing,” Fargo said.
Cud swore and swung the club.
Fargo tried to dodge but he couldn’t pull far enough back. The club caught him on the shoulder and sent pain shooting through clear down to his toes. His boot came out of the stirrup and he was nearly unhorsed. Clinging to the saddle horn with his other hand, he managed to pull himself back up.