Fargo glanced at him, and damn if the man wasn’t serious. “I seem to recollect that Polson was here long before you showed up.”
“That it was,” Mike Durn said. “But there was no one in charge. No top dog, if you will.”
“And there is now?”
“You are looking at him.”
“I admire your modesty,” Fargo said as the bartender placed a bottle and a glass in front of him.
Durn laughed, but the laughter was as cold as his smile. “Modesty is for the weak, for those too timid to reach out and take what they want from life. I am not timid.”
Fargo opened the bottle and filled his glass. “Care to wet your throat?” he asked.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Durn said. All he had to do was crook a finger at the bartender, and a glass was in front of him. He smiled as Fargo poured. “I am obliged. Usually I limit myself to two drinks a night, but for you I will make an exception.”
“You never get drunk?” Fargo had never met a riverman who did not like to drown himself in liquor.
“Not anymore, no. A man in my position cannot afford to be weak when there are those who would tear him down.”
“You seem fond of that word,” Fargo noted. “Weak.”
Big Mike Durn tipped the glass to his mouth but took only a sip. “There are two kinds of people in this world. The strong and the weak. The wolves and the sheep. Most people are sheep. They do what they are told and abide by the law from the cradle to the grave. They are nobodies while they live, and no one remembers them after they die.” He set down the glass. “That is not for me. I am a wolf. I take what I want when I want. I wrest what I need from those that have it, and bury them if they get in my way. I have taken over this town, and in another couple of years I will take over the entire territory.”
Fargo smothered a smirk. The man sure was fond of himself. “The United States government might have a say about that,” he remarked.
“Oh, I have no doubt they will try to stop me,” Durn said somberly. “It would not surprise me if reports have already reached them, and they have sent someone to check on those reports.” He paused. “Say you, for instance.”
It took every iota of self-control Fargo had not to betray his surprise. Whatever else Big Mike Durn might be, he was not stupid. “I work for the army from time to time,” he admitted. “But as a scout, nothing more.”
“So I have heard,” Durn said. “But I wonder. Some might call it a coincidence, you showing up here, but I am not a big believer in coincidence. Convince me I am wrong and I will allow you to stay.”
Fargo had a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but he did not say it. He suddenly noticed that the other three had spread out and were ringing him, Kutler with his hand on his bowie, Tork with the Sharps casually pointed in his general direction, and Grunge with those enormous fists of his balled. “How do I go about doing that?”
“I leave that to you,” Durn said. “But I will grant you one night in Polson. Entertain yourself as you see fit, and if you want to stay longer, come see me in the morning and persuade me to let you stay.”
“I do not like being told what to do.”
“That makes two of us.” Durn smiled, and was about to walk off when a shout rose to the rafters.
“You, there! The son of a bitch who bloodied me!”
Fargo looked in the mirror. He had forgotten about the jackass who took a swing at him. The man was on his feet, swaying slightly, blood trickling down his cheek, his teeth bared in a snarl. “Go bother someone else,” Fargo said.
“Like hell!” The man was poised to draw, his fingers inches above his revolver. “Turn and face me! Or so help me, I will shoot you in the back.”
Big Mike Durn sighed. “That will be enough out of you, Everett. Be smart for once and go sleep it off.”
“Stay out of this!” Everett snapped. “You saw what he did to me. I have the right to repay the favor.”
“You have whatever rights I say you have,” Durn said quietly. “One of the rights you do not have is the right not to do whatever I tell you to do. I will say it one more time. Go sleep the booze off. In the morning look me up and apologize.”
By now the saloon had gone quiet again, with all present waiting to see the outcome.
Everett gestured, but not with his gun arm. “I swear. The airs you put on. You might have the rest of these yacks afraid but not me. I will do as I please, and it pleases me to kill this son of a bitch.”
Tork had shifted and was pointing the Sharps at Everett. “Let me take care of this peckerwood, Mr. Durn.”
“No. That buffalo gun of yours would splatter his brains all over,” Big Mike said.
“How about me, then?” Kutler offered, starting to draw his bowie.
“Open him up with that big pigsticker and he will get blood on the floor,” Durn said. “No, I would rather that Grunge do the honors.”
Everett was staring at them as if he could not believe what he was hearing. “I am standing right here!” he declared. “No one is a laying hand on me, do you hear?”
“Not a hand so much as a sledge,” Durn said, and bobbed his head at the man with the enormous fists. “He is yours. Try not to make too much of a mess or you will clean it up.”
Fargo saw it all.
Everett swore and grabbed at his six-shooter. His fingers had not quite reached it when Grunge reached him and swept both giant fists up and in. The double crunch was loud enough to be heard clear across the room.
Everett howled and covered his shattered ears with his hands. He bent slightly, enough that Grunge brought his fists smashing down on top of Everett’s head. Instead of a crunch there was a thump, and Everett was belly down on the floor, and did not move.
“Now get him out of my sight,” Big Mike Durn said gruffly. “And if you break a few of his bones while doing it, so much the better.”
Grunge and Tork were quick to obey, each taking an arm and dragging Everett out. Laughter and insults were flung at the unconscious man by some in the crowd.
Fargo observed that some did not laugh or poke fun. Durn’s high-handed methods were not appreciated by everyone. He downed the whiskey in his glass at a gulp and set the glass down.
“I did not take you for the squeamish type,” Mike Durn said.
Refilling his glass, Fargo was aware that Kutler had come up on the other side of him. They were slick as grease, this bunch. “I am thirsty, is all.”
“Now where were we?” Big Mike said. “Oh. Yes. I was saying as how I suspect you are working for the army. But I hear tell that you claim you came all this way to have some time to yourself.”
“What is unusual about that?”
“Nothing. Except that you had the whole Rockies to choose from, and they run from Canada to Mexico. Yet you picked our neck of the woods.”
“You have a suspicious nature,” Fargo said.
“As suspicious as they come,” Mike Durn confirmed. “It is why I have lived as long as I have.”
“What is this I hear about a thousand people moving to Polson by the end of next year?” Fargo casually inquired.
“Who told you that?” Durn snapped, and glanced at Kutler, who averted his gaze. “Some people can’t help wagging their tongues, it seems. Yes, I am counting on a lot more folks wanting to live here after I have made a few changes.”
“Changes how?”
Durn’s grin was no grin at all; it was a vicious sneer. “You have yet to convince me you are not a danger to me and my plans. Until you do—” He shrugged, then finished his drink. “It has been interesting. We will talk again tomorrow if you are still here. If you aren’t, I will take that as a sign you were lying, and if I ever hear of you anywhere in Polson or Mission Valley, I will send Kutler and Tork and Grunge to talk to you, along with a few others.”