“Was that a threat?”
“No. A promise.” Big Mike Durn walked off with Kutler in his wake. Three more men fell into step behind them.
Fargo had not counted on this. That sharpshooting contest in Missouri a while back, along with a few other incidents, had brought him notoriety he could do without. Now, most everyone who heard of him knew that he scouted for the army on occasion. He refilled his glass. How in hell was he to convince Durn he was not working for the government when he only had his own say-so? Durn would never accept his word. He might as well ride out by morning. Sure, he could ask around, like the army wanted, but word was bound to reach Durn, and he would be up to his neck in curly wolves out to blow windows in his skull.
“Damn,” Fargo said to himself. He decided to find an empty chair and sit in on a card game. That would take his mind off his problem for a while. Picking up the bottle and glass, he pivoted.
Just then a commotion broke out at the batwings. Two men were blocking the doorway to prevent someone from forcing their way through.
“Let go of me, consarn you!” a woman’s voice demanded. “I insist on seeing your boss!” The woman tried to shove them out of her way.
Patrons were stopping what they were doing to stare.
Fargo glimpsed lustrous blond hair and a shapely figure, and then the onlookers were making space for Big Mike Durn. Durn gestured, and the two men at the batwings stepped aside to admit the woman.
“Sally, Sally, Sally,” Durn said with a smile. “The Whiskey Mill is no fit place for a lady. What are you doing here?”
Fargo had it, then. This was Sally Brook, the woman Thaddeus had told him about.
She put her hands on her hips, her emerald eyes flashing. “Not fit for a lady?” she repeated, and bobbed her head at a Flathead maiden. “Then why are she and these others here?”
“Don’t start,” Durn said.
“You do not seem to understand,” Sally Brook declared. “I will not rest until you stop using these women for your private gain. It is despicable.”
“My customers don’t think so.”
“I just heard that three more were brought in today,” Sally said. “Young ones, too.”
“The younger, the better,” Durn told her. “They are more popular than toothless hags.”
“You have no shame, do you?” Sally Brook said, her tone laced with condemnation.
“None whatsoever. But fortunately for you, I have a lot of patience. Otherwise, you would not still be in my good graces.”
“I will have to remedy that,” Sally Brook said. And before anyone could guess her intent, she stepped up close to Big Mike Durn and slapped him across the face.
4
Skye Fargo half expected Mike Durn to knock Sally Brook to the floor. Apparently, judging by the expressions of those around him, he was not the only one.
As for Durn, he started to raise his right fist, then lowered his arm, took a step back, and laughed. “You always did have more gall than sense. Want to do the other cheek? Here. I will make it easy for you.” Durn turned his head.
Sally Brook was furious. “There you go again. Making light of me. But I will not give up. I will do whatever it takes to stop you from mistreating these Indians.”
“I have been meaning to ask,” Durn said. “Why make all this fuss over a bunch of squaws?”
“They are people, confound you! Living, breathing human beings. Not animals. Not savages. Not squaws.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Sally regarded Mike Durn almost sadly. “I pity you. I truly do. You have no regard for the feelings of others. No concept of what you are doing.”
“Like hell,” Durn said. “I have everything planned out. I know exactly what I am doing.”
“That is not what I meant.” Sally suddenly turned toward the maidens. “I know some of you can speak enough English to get by. Listen to me. What this man has you doing is wrong. It is degrading. He has no right to force you to parade yourself.”
“They don’t do anything a white dove wouldn’t do,” Big Mike said.
“Walk out!” Sally urged them. “All of you, together. Now. I will see that you get back safely to your families.”
Some of the Indian women swapped troubled glances but none of them said anything.
Durn’s amusement faded. “That is enough out of you. I will not have you filling their heads with contrary notions. I do not force them to come work for me. They do it to pay off debts.”
“I am not that gullible,” Sally Brook said.
Durn turned and pointed at several men, all Indians, who were playing poker or faro or roulette. “Look for yourself. I don’t force anyone to come here. I don’t force them to gamble. They do it of their own free will.” He shrugged. “I can’t help it if they lose all they have and can’t make good.”
“You set out honey to catch flies and then claim it is not your fault when they get stuck,” Sally said.
Durn looked about the room at all the players and drinkers. “Did you hear her, gentlemen? You are all a bunch of flies.”
Hoots of laughter filled the saloon. Sally Brook reddened, then wheeled and stalked out, pushing one of Durn’s men out of her way. Kutler started after her but Durn said, “Where do you think you are going? Leave her be. She is harmless.” He walked toward the back, his underlings at his heels.
Fargo did not waste a moment. The night air was bracing after the smoke of the saloon. He glanced up and down the street but did not see her. Then a shapely form in a dress passed a house with a lit window, her hair glowing golden. He hurried after her, his spurs jingling, and she heard him, and spun.
“That is far enough, whoever you are. Go back and tell your boss I will not be mistreated.”
“I don’t work for Mike Durn,” Fargo said.
“Then what do you want?”
“To talk to you. We have a common interest. Is there somewhere we can go to be alone?”
“What do you take me for? I don’t know you. I have never set eyes on you before. And you want to be alone with me?”
“I am not out to do you harm.”
“So you say. But a woman can’t be too trusting these days.” Sally shook her blond mane. “If you really need to talk, visit me tomorrow at my shop.”
Reluctantly, Fargo watched her walk off. He headed back to the saloon. Next to it was a general store, which was closed and dark, and as he was passing the gap between them, he heard the sounds of a scuffle and a woman’s voice, pleading, coming from the rear. Instantly, he darted into the gap and ran the length of the buildings.
The back door to the saloon was open. Bathed in the rectangle of light that spilled out were two husky men and a Flathead woman struggling to break free of their grasp. Her back was to Fargo, so all he could see was long black hair and her doeskin dress.
“—back inside and change clothes, squaw,” one of the men was saying. “You will do as you are told or we will take a switch to you.”
The woman struggled harder but they were too strong for her. They began to haul her toward the door and she dug in her heels.
“Damned wildcat,” the other man complained. “Quit it, or I will sock you on the jaw.”
“No bruises that anyone can see, remember?” the first man said.
In three bounds Fargo was behind them with the Colt out. He slammed it against the back of the head of the man on the right, shifted, and slammed it against the head of the man on the left. Both crumpled, but he hit them again to ensure they stayed out. Then he turned to the woman.
Only she wasn’t there.
She was bolting.