“On the other hand, he didn’t burn any of the other houses,” Fargo said. “Why not? He wanted to get rid of everybody else.”
“What if he wants the houses?” Molly asked.
“What would he do with houses?”
“It’s more than just houses. It’s farms. Let’s say he runs everybody off. The farms will still be here, and Murray and his gang can take them. Rip would be staying, since he’s in with Murray, but he’d get a better farm. Lem’s. And he’d get Abby into the bargain. Or that’s what he thinks. Abby would never stand still for it. She’d either kill him, or he’d have to kill her.”
Fargo thought over what Molly had said. He’d always thought there had to be more than just revenge in Murray’s mind. Power and revenge and property. It made sense. Fargo remembered Angel’s comments about Murray’s feeling for the South.
“You might be right,” Fargo told Molly. “Murray could have the idea that he can set up his own little state here, maybe seal it off, or even pull out of the Union. He’d have a hell of a time defending it, though.”
“He wouldn’t have to. The army’s already got its hands full, and nobody else is going to do anything. Before long, the whole country could be at war, and nobody’s going to pay any attention to what’s going on in some little farm area here. Who knows? Murray might wind up running the whole territory.”
Fargo thought it was barely possible. Murray had the military bearing to draw people to him, and he had the madness necessary to believe he could do anything. And he didn’t care who got hurt or killed in the process, as long as he got what he wanted. Taking the land from the farmers would give him the revenge he was looking for and put him in a position to become a far more powerful figure than he already was.
“Now all we have to do is stop him,” Molly said. “How are we going to do it.”
“I don’t quite have that figured out yet,” Fargo told her.
18
“One thing we have to do,” Lem said when he and Fargo talked things over that night, “is find out where Murray is. We can’t do anything else until we do that.”
“We’ll let Rip tell us,” Fargo said.
“Rip won’t tell you the truth about anything. He’s always been able to look a man in the eye and tell the biggest whopper you ever heard. You’ll never even get him to admit what he’s been doing. If he’s been doing it. I still can’t believe it of him.”
“I could be wrong about him,” Fargo said, “but I don’t think so. The way I lay it out, everything points to him.”
“I know that. You make a good case. But I’ve known Rip for five or six years, lived here beside him, and worked with him all that time. I hate to think he’d turned on his neighbors like that.”
“You don’t seem too interested in having him as a son-in-law, no matter how long you’ve known him.”
“Well, that’s a different story. He’s a little lazy, he let his place get run down, and he’s not the man for Abby. Jed was more what I had in mind. He had backbone, and he didn’t mind a little hard work. I was hoping Abby could find somebody like that. Or maybe somebody like you.”
“I’m not cut out for farming, as much as I admire Abby. She’s a fine woman, and she deserves better than me.”
“Be hard to find anybody like that around here. Be hard to find anybody at all if we don’t stop Murray. But Rip’s not going to help with that.”
“He is,” Fargo said. “He’s just not going to know he’s doing it.”
And he told Lem what he wanted him to do.
Early the next morning, while the dew was still on the fields, Lem rode to Rip’s house and called him outside.
“We’ll be riding out to get Murray tomorrow,” Lem said, sitting easy and relaxed in the saddle.
Rip stood on his little front porch and looked up at him, squinting his eyes against the bright morning sun.
“Who’s going to be in the posse?” he asked.
“You will be, I hope,” Lem said.
“I’ll go. I’ve already told you that. But who else? How many?”
“Just about everybody living around here said they’d be willing to ride, but I wanted to let you know first. We can for sure count on Cass and Bob. Molly Doyle. Fargo. Me and Abby. And Angel Murray.”
“Good Lord. Are you telling me she’s on our side now? That she’d ride against her own daddy?”
“She probably wouldn’t be doing it if he hadn’t tried to kill her,” Lem said. “There’s something about having your pa shoot at you that has a way of changing your mind about him.”
Rip nodded his agreement. “I can see that, I guess. You sure you want Abby along? It’s going to be plenty dangerous if you find Murray. He’s not going to give up just because you ask him to. There’ll be shooting.”
“Abby says she won’t stay behind, danger or not. And we’ll find Murray, all right. Fargo says he knows where he’s hiding.”
Rip frowned at the mention of Fargo’s name.
“I don’t think Fargo’s as smart as he thinks he is. Where does he say Murray’s located?”
“He’s in a cave over by the big river. He had Fargo prisoner there for a while, before he got away.”
“And Fargo thinks Murray’s still there?”
“That’s what he says. It’ll take us a while to get there, and Fargo better be right about it. If he’s not, we could be in big trouble. What with most of the able-bodied men riding out, all our homes will be left wide open. Murray could just sneak in and take ’em over.”
Rip seemed to think about that for a second or two before saying, “Now, why would Murray want to do that?”
“I don’t have the least idea. It was just something that worried me.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.” Rip’s voice was confident. “We’ll catch him in that cave and bottle him up. That’ll be the end of him.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Lem said.
“Did he take the bait?” Fargo asked.
“You bet,” Lem said. “Like the biggest catfish in the Missouri. Swallowed it hook, line, sinker and all. You sure you can follow him?”
“I can follow anybody.”
Lem looked skeptical. “He might spot you.”
Fargo grinned. “He’ll never know I’m within fifty miles of him.”
Angel had known he was following her, he thought. Or she’d guessed he was. But she was expecting him to follow her. Rip didn’t know anybody was onto him, and he was probably confident that they hadn’t figured out about him and Murray yet.
“I hope you’re right,” Lem said. “If he catches you, we’ll never find out where Murray’s hiding.”
“You don’t have a thing to worry about,” Fargo said. “I’ll find out, and then we’ll get him.”
Lem shook his head doubtfully. “I sure hope you’re right about that.”
Fargo hoped so, too.
There had been a little rain the day before, not much, but enough to soften the ground. And the shoe on the left front hoof of Rip’s horse had a big nick in it. Fargo was able to stay well back and follow the tracks, which were so plain that it didn’t take a man of Fargo’s skills to see them. A kid could have done it.
The trail led to the creek and turned into the trees not far from the marshy area where Paul Murray and the others who had died with him had been buried. Fargo wondered if Rip was going to try the same trick Angel had used when she was toying with Fargo, but the tracks never got within ten feet of the stream. Rip had gone into the trees for concealment, not because he thought he was being followed, but just so that nobody who happened to be out riding the countryside would see him by accident. He didn’t think anyone was behind him. Why would he? He didn’t know that Fargo was onto him.