“How?” Molly asked.
Fargo wished he had an answer for that. But he didn’t.
8
Fargo had to sleep in the barn that night. Angel was using the bed he’d had in the house, and Molly was staying in the kitchen.
“I’ve slept on harder beds than that table before,” she’d said, and nobody mentioned that Jed had been laid out there only the previous evening. Fargo didn’t think it would have bothered Molly even if anyone had brought it up.
The barn smelled of hay and manure, and no one would ever have guessed that a dance had been held there so recently. Fargo didn’t mind the smell. He made himself a bed in the loft, laying his blanket over a pile of straw that he gathered up. He’d slept in worse places before.
After he got settled in, he lay back and thought about all that had happened since last night’s dance. There were a lot of little things that bothered him about all of it, but he hadn’t quite sorted it all out as yet. He was sure, however, that there was more going on with Murray and his gang than met the eye. Maybe he could have a little talk with Angel about it. Fargo chuckled at the thought. He might as well have a little talk with one of Molly’s dead mules, for all Angel would tell him.
He drifted off to sleep, but, asleep or not, he was always on the alert. When the barn door creaked open, he came awake instantly.
His hand went to his pistol, which was right beside him in its holster. He pulled it out and waited. For a few seconds he heard nothing more, but then something scuffed a ladder rung below him. He thumbed back the hammer of the pistol.
It was dark inside the barn. Only the faintest moonlight filtered in through the cracks in the boards, but Fargo’s eyes were used to the dark by that time, and in a few seconds he saw the dark outline of a head rise above the floor of the loft.
He let the hammer down quietly and said, “Is that you, Molly?”
“Yes.” She climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and stepped into the loft. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t until just now.” Fargo slipped the pistol back into its holster. “You almost got yourself shot.”
“That would have been too bad. But I didn’t want to make too much noise getting here. I didn’t want anybody to know I came. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Fargo sat up and said, “What’s that?”
Molly walked the few paces to where he was and sat on the hay beside him.
“Talley’s funeral,” she said when she was settled.
“What about it?” Fargo asked.
“You know what happened when we buried Jed. Don’t you think Murray might try the same thing again?”
Fargo hadn’t thought about that, but now that she’d brought it up, it didn’t seem very likely to him.
“He knows we’re onto that trick,” Fargo said. “He’d expect us to have somebody waiting at Talley’s house. Besides, he might not even know Talley’s dead.”
“He knows. He knows everything that goes on around here. He probably even knew about the little stash of money I had in my house.”
“You didn’t mention any money.”
“What good would it do to mention it? It’s either burned up or Murray’s got his dirty hands on it. It’s gone, either way.”
“If Murray took it, how did he know you had it?”
“The same way he knows everything else. Anyway, he might have burned the house, but you can bet he took everything that was worth taking before he set a torch to it.”
“Does Talley have anything that’s worth taking?”
“I don’t know. But Murray probably does.”
Fargo thought about that for a minute and said, “Talley wasn’t married, was he?”
“No. Not too many women would have anything to do with him because of the way he looked. People put a lot of stock in looks, in case you haven’t noticed. But then you wouldn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because big, good-looking galoots like you never think about things like that. You probably have women flocking around you like flies to a honey pot.”
“It’s not quite that bad,” Fargo said, feeling a little uncomfortable. “But let’s get back to Talley. If he wasn’t married, who’s looking out for his house tonight?”
“Nobody, probably. He didn’t have any kin around here. They’re all back east somewhere. He’s laid out at Rip Johnson’s place, and Rip and some of the others are sitting up with the body.”
The two men that Fargo had killed didn’t have anybody sitting up with them. Alf Wesley and some of the others had buried them with the others who’d been killed at the dance. At the rate Murray was losing men, he was going to have to find himself some new help before long, which wouldn’t make him feel any kindlier toward Fargo.
“If there’s nobody at Talley’s place,” Fargo said, “why would Murray wait until the funeral to go there?”
Molly sat up straighter beside him.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” she said. “Hell, Murray’s probably over there right now. Maybe we could catch him.” She stood up. “Come on, Fargo, let’s go. We can’t just let him take everything Talley had and then burn his place like he burned mine.”
Fargo wasn’t sure Murray would do anything of the kind.
“We have Angel,” he reminded Molly. “Murray might not want to take the risk of doing something that would make us decide to go back on our bargain.”
“What risk? If there’s nobody there, who’s to say Murray’s to blame for anything that happens? Without any proof of what he’d done, you’d never go back on your word. Get up, Fargo. We can’t let Murray get away with it.”
Fargo stood up and brushed a little straw off his clothes. He didn’t think Murray was going to get away with anything, and if he was, there was always the chance that he’d already done it. But Molly was insistent, and Fargo didn’t have anything against a little midnight ride now that he was fully awake anyway.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go see if there’s any trouble going on.”
“This time, I’ll have a gun with me,” Molly said, and started down the ladder. She poked her head above the level of the loft and added, “Or two guns.”
The night air was cool and dry. A light breeze was blowing, and now and then a thin cloud would scud across the face of the moon. But there was plenty of light for the horses to see by. Molly was on the bay, riding just ahead of Fargo and leading the way.
They passed a couple of farmhouses, and one of them had lights in several of the windows. Molly said that was Rip Johnson’s place.
“He and Tom were never very good friends,” she said. “Men didn’t like Tom any better than women did. It was kind of Rip to sit up with him. Rip may be a son of a bitch, but he has his good points, few as they are.”
They rode on for another half a mile before they came to a solitary house silvered by the moonlight and sitting near a cornfield. It seemed to Fargo that everybody in Kansas must be growing corn.
I hope Rip came over here and milked Tom’s cow,” Molly said as they neared the house.
“I don’t hear any cows complaining,” Fargo said. “So somebody must have milked her. And we’d better be quiet ourselves. We don’t want Murray to hear us if he’s around here.”
Fargo didn’t think there was any danger of that. If Murray had been there, there would have been some sign of him, but there was none. No horses near the house or barn, no lights showing in the windows. And no one had burned the house. There was always a chance someone had killed the milk cow, but Fargo didn’t think that had happened.
“I guess I was wrong,” Molly said. “But that doesn’t mean Murray won’t be coming along later. Or that he hasn’t been here and cleaned out the house already. We’d better check inside and see if everything’s all right.”