“Except for Cud Sten,” Jayce said.
Fargo remedied his lack of manners. But he didn’t tell the complete truth. He left out the part about scouting for the army. “I like to explore new country, and the Beartooths are as new as country gets. I didn’t think there was anyone living within a thousand miles of here.”
“There’s just us,” Nelly told him.
Fargo took note of that, too. He had gained a little strength, and he started off again, leaning on her as lightly as he could and still stay on his feet. “What about the Indians?”
“What about them?” Jayce rejoined.
“Are you on friendly terms? There are a lot of hostiles in the mountains, and they’ve been known to lift white scalps now and then.” Fargo regretted saying it the moment he did.
Both children got that fawn-in-the-glow-of-a-lantern look, and Jayce glanced anxiously up and down the valley as if afraid a war party was about to swoop down on them.
“We worry about Indians all the time. Pa used to say they’d leave us be if we left them be. And once he gave one of our cows to them.”
“Now that he’s gone,” Nelly said, taking up the account, “Ma is afraid they might take us to live with them.”
Fargo could see that happening. Now and then warriors took fancies to white women. “Why don’t the three of you leave?’
Sister and brother looked at each other, and Nelly answered, “You’d best ask Ma. It’s not up to us.”
“I’d go if we could,” Jayce said. “I’m tired of always having to be on the lookout for Sten and Indians and bears and whatnot.”
Fargo was mildly surprised. Most boys his age would gladly live in the country rather than in a settlement or town. Boys thrived outdoors, running barefoot and fishing and hunting and catching frogs and snakes.
“I’d love to go through a day safe,” Nelly chimed in. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“You make it sound awful bad here.”
That was when Jayce, who was struggling in the deep snow, twisted his head around. “Say, mister, didn’t you say you killed those two wolves?”
“As dead as dead can be,” Fargo assured him.
“Then how come one of them is chasing us?”
4
Fargo stopped and half turned and a chill ran down his spine. One of the wolves was closing on them with surprising speed, given that its coat was spattered with red from the stab wounds he had inflicted. There was a grim intensity about its expression. Every dozen feet or so it staggered for a few steps, but then it came on again.
Fargo took the Arkansas toothpick from Nelly, who was staring at the wolf in terror. “Run.”
Jayce faced the wolf and balled his fists. “We’ll help you fight it off, mister.”
“No,” Fargo said. Stricken as it was, the wolf was still formidable. “Get to your cabin. Let your ma know.”
Nelly had recovered from her shock enough to say, “It wouldn’t be right to leave you. You’re in no shape to do much.”
“I don’t want you hurt.” Fargo gave her a push. “Either of you. Now run.”
His tone spurred her into flying, and she pulled Jayce with her. But they took only a few steps and stopped.
“We can’t.”
It was all Fargo could do to stay on his feet. “Run, damn it!” he commanded, and this time they actually did. But they couldn’t go very fast.
And the wolf was almost on them.
Fargo shook his head to try to clear it but it didn’t help. He focused on the wolf and only the wolf. He would do what he could to delay it, but he wasn’t going to fool himself. He didn’t stand much of a chance. He hefted the toothpick and was appalled at how heavy it felt. It showed how weak he was.
The wolf came to a stop just out of reach, bared its fangs, and snarled.
Fargo would swear he saw hate in its eyes. Hate for the killing of its mate, maybe. Or maybe it was his imagination. “Come and get me.” He hoped the children kept running. He didn’t dare glance over his shoulder to find out.
Holding the toothpick low, he tried a feint, which the wolf ignored.
The movement brought on more dizziness. Worse, Fargo’s gut churned, and bile rose in his throat. He went to swallow it back down, and thought, Why bother? He let it come all the way up—and out. He threw up on the wolf.
For a few moments the wolf was motionless.
Then it came at him so quick that Fargo couldn’t get the toothpick up in time. Fangs tore into his shirt. Its weight drove him back. He tripped over his own feet and then he was on his back, holding the wolf by the throat while it snapped at his face and neck and growled in fury and sought to rip and rend with its claws.
Fargo summoned what strength he had left but it wasn’t much. He couldn’t hold the beast off him for long. Pain seared his side. Teeth gnashed an inch from his eyes. The wolf was practically beside itself; he looked into its eyes and saw hellfire.
Fargo tried to roll so that he could pin it with his body but he couldn’t do more than raise a shoulder. Again the fangs snapped, missing his neck by a whisker. He locked his elbows to keep it from reaching him but his arms were forced lower. His end was near. He sensed it, and the wolf sensed it. In a surge of ferocity, the wolf bit at his jugular. He twisted his neck away but he was only delaying the inevitable.
The next moment Fargo’s strength gave out completely. The wolf’s face filled his vision. Teeth were everywhere. He braced for a final explosion of pain, but there was an explosion of a different kind. Thunder boomed, and the wolf jerked to the impact of a heavy slug. It looked up, and thunder boomed again. Blood and hair and bits of an eyeball sprayed over Fargo’s face, and the wolf went limp.
He couldn’t hold it up. He felt his arms start to give out.
The world went dark.
“Can you hear me?”
Fargo was conscious of a warm hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes and could barely see for the glare. “Who . . . ?”
“I’m Mary Harper. You’re in a bad way. I sent Nelly and Jayce to fetch our sled. But it will take them a bit.”
“Sled?” Fargo said in confusion. His mind was a jumble. He could hardly think.
“To haul you to our cabin. You’re too heavy for us to carry. And I wouldn’t want to try, the shape you’re in.”
“Can’t see,” Fargo said. He swallowed and blinked, and there she was, her face as close as the wolf’s had been. She was a vision: blond hair that glowed like a halo and the most incredible green eyes and small, full lips. There was no wariness in her eyes, only concern. “You’re beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself.
Mary Harper smiled. “You’re not in your right mind. You’ve lost a terrible amount of blood.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Being so helpless,” Fargo replied. It embarrassed him. Yet he had to admit it was a strange thing to be embarrassed about.
“It’s not as if you planned it.”
“Lost horse,” Fargo tried to explained. “Fell off mountain. . . . so much snow . . . couldn’t stop.”
“Hush. Don’t waste yourself. You can tell me all about it later, after we have you warm and bandaged and fed.”
“Don’t want . . . to be a burden.”
“There you go again,” Mary Harper said, kindly. “Please. Don’t think anything of it. I would do the same for anyone in the shape you are. Indians included.”
Fargo believed she would. An awkward silence fell—awkward to him, at any rate—and he said to fill it, “Can’t believe you’re here.”
“My children were gone too long and I came looking for them.”
“No. I mean, I can’t believe you’re here.” Fargo tried to motion to encompass the valley and the mountains but couldn’t move his arm far enough.