“It’s not that. It’s the Injuns. We struck redskin sign, and he’s worried they might pay you a visit.”
“They haven’t bothered us since my husband gave them one of our cows. Why would they harm us now?”
Tull shrugged, then waggled his empty cup. “Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t care if they helped themselves to that pretty hair of yours. I just do what Cud tells me. And since he said I stay, I stay. Now give me some more coffee, damn it.” Nelly moved between Fargo and the table. She was watching her mother and the outlaw and didn’t realize she was blocking Fargo’s view. He moved so he could see past her.
“What if I were to insist that you leave?” Mary was saying. “I’ll tell Cud it was my doing so he won’t be mad at you.”
“Don’t your ears work? I don’t do what you say. I do what Cud says. I’m here and I am staying. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll stop annoying me.”
Mary carried the pot out of Fargo’s sight. When she came back, she was holding a large towel over both of her hands. “What if I ask you to leave as a personal favor to me?”
“God Almighty,” Tull declared in disgust. “You’d make a great dog. You worry every bone.”
“ I’m a woman without a husband, and it wouldn’t do for me to have the likes of you staying under my roof. In a town it would create a scandal.”
“But we’re not in a town,” Tull said in rising exasperation. He cocked his head and gave her an intent scrutiny. “What are you up to?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve been acting peculiar since I rode up. Now you practically want to throw me back out.” Tull scratched the stubble on his chin. “It makes me think you’re up to something.”
“Don’t be silly.”
Tull ignored her. “I keep thinking of those boot tracks. And the sled sign. Where is he, woman?”
“Where is who? You’ve already searched the whole cabin and didn’t find anyone.”
“I think I’ll search again.” Tull rose and hooked a thumb in his belt near the pearl-handled Colt. “Only this time I’ll search in every little nook and cranny.”
Fargo drew back. He was in no shape to go up against a man like Tull. If he had his Colt, it would be different. It didn’t take a lot of strength to thumb back a hammer or squeeze a trigger.
“I resent this,” Mary said indignantly.
“Do I look like I give a damn? How about if I start with the fireplace.”
“Ma?” Nelly said.
“Hush.”
Tull’s boots moved out of sight and Fargo heard a metallic clang. A fireplace poker, he guessed. There were other sounds, thuds and scrapes, and then Tull exclaimed, “Well, what do we have here? Looks to me to be a bloody towel you tried to bury under these ashes.”
“That old thing?” Mary said, stepping into view. “I stuck it in there days ago. I cut my finger peeling potatoes.”
“There’s an awful lot of blood. Are you sure you didn’t cut off your whole hand?”
“You’re not funny.”
“I think I am. And lookee here. You say you cut yourself days ago? But when I picked up this towel, I got some of the blood on me.” Tull chuckled. “Here, girl. Catch.”
“Don’t do that!” Nelly cried, and dashed to her mother, who took her into her arms.
“That was uncalled for, Mr. Tull. I won’t have you scaring my children,” Mary said.
“Hell. Can’t any of you take a joke?”
Footsteps and jingling spurs came toward the bedroom. Tull stopped just inside and Fargo imagined him looking around.
“You checked in there,” Mary said.
“Did I?” Tull moved to the closet, opened it again, and squatted. He picked up a pair of shoes with holes in them. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so god-awful poor?”
“We get by.”
“You should stop saying no to Cud. He’d see that you got dresses and shoes and whatever else females cotton to.”
“I can’t be had for money or clothes. Or anything else.”
“Oh? How did your husband hook you, then?”
“With love.”
Tull uttered a short bark. “Love? It’s nothing but a fancy word that those like you use so you won’t feel guilty about letting a man undo your petticoats.”
“I was wrong about you, Mr. Tull. You’re not just crude. You’re despicable.”
“Another fancy word. All it means is that you think you’re too good for the likes of me.”
Fargo saw Tull’s boots swivel toward the bed.
“Are you done in here?”
“Not yet. There’s one place I forgot to look the first time. Probably because I figured no one would be stupid enough to hide there.”
The scuffed boots approached, but not too close. A gun hammer clicked, and the man called Tull said, “How about if I shoot this bed a few times and we see if anything pops out?”
6
The bed wouldn’t stop the slugs. They would pass all the way through, and into Fargo. He was debating whether to crawl out meekly when Mary Harper intervened.
“Please don’t. He’s under there but is badly hurt. He can hardly move.”
“The truth at last.” Tull took a few steps back. “You got a weapon under there with you, mister?”
“No,” Fargo answered. He placed the toothpick against the wall, where it was darkest.
“Do you expect me to believe that? Let me see both your hands, and they damn well better be empty.”
Fargo complied.
“That’s good. Now crawl on out of there, nice and slow.”
“I couldn’t do it any other way.” Fargo gripped the edge of the bed and pulled, but he was so weak he hardly moved. He tried again with no better success.
“I don’t have all day.”
Mary said, “I told you. He’s hurt. You saw the dead wolves. You saw all the blood. We brought him here and put him to bed, and I was just starting to feed him when you came.”
“Then you and the brats help him out. Any tricks, and I shoot your girl and boy.”
“We’ll do whatever you say,” Mary assured him. “Just go easy on that trigger.”
Hands reached under and gently dragged Fargo out. He did his best to help. Tull stayed well back, his pearl-handled Colt steady in his head.
“What’s your handle, mister?”
Fargo told him.
“Looks as if those wolves about ripped you to pieces. Get up in that bed while I ponder what to do with you.”
Mary and the children helped. Without them, Fargo couldn’t have made it. He sank wearily onto his back and clenched his fists in frustration. He had never felt so damn helpless.
“Move away from him,” Tull commanded the Harpers. He came over, the Colt’s muzzle fixed on Fargo’s head. He looked Fargo up and down, then held out his other hand, palm open. “Push on this.”
“What?” Fargo said.
“You heard me. Push my hand as hard as you can. Don’t hold back, neither. I’ll be able to tell.”
Again Fargo had to do as the man wanted. He used his left hand, and he exerted all the strength he had, grimacing from the pain it caused.
“That’s enough,” Tull said. “She was telling the truth. You’re as weak as a kitten.” He bent and peered under the bed.
Fargo had a few anxious seconds until the outlaw straightened.
“I don’t see no pistol or rifle under there. What happened to your hardware?”
Since there was no reason not to tell the truth, Fargo did, keeping his account short and to the point.
Tull chuckled. “All that, and now me. This ain’t your day, is it?” He pursed his lips. “Or maybe it is. You get to live, for now. Give me any trouble, and I will buck you out in gore.”
Mary said, “Thank you, Mr. Tull.”
“Hell, lady, I’m doing this only because Cud might want to have a few words with this gent before he kills him. And besides, he’s so puny he couldn’t hurt a fly.” Tull gestured at the doorway. “Out you go, all three of you.” He backed after them.