Northwoods Nightmare (15 page)
“Just because he lets mother ride roughshod over him is no reason to talk like that,” Angeline scolded.
Allen looked at Fargo. “You know, don't you, scout? Explain it to her. Maybe she'll believe it coming from you.”
“What I want to know,” Fargo said, getting to the crux of the matter, “is what any of that has to do with me?”
“It has everything to do with you,” Allen assured him. “Or don't you remember telling us, before we left San Francisco, that you'll do everything in your power to see to it that all of us make it back alive? Your exact words.”
“What's wrong with that?” Angeline wanted to know.
Fargo had a sudden insight. “Your brother doesn't want some of you to make it back. Or is it all of them?” he asked Allen.
“That's ridiculous.”
“Then what do you have against me doing what I was hired to do?” Fargo had him. No matter what Allen said, Angeline was bound to be suspicious.
“Yes, Allen. I would like to hear the answer, too.”
Allen hesitated. His arm shook from the intensity of his emotion. “God, it would be so easy.”
“Allen!”
His face twisted in anger, Allen lowered the revolver with a sharp jerk. “All I wanted to do was talk.”
“So talk,” Fargo prodded. “Tell me why you paid Strath and Santee to kill me.”
“That's just it. I didn't. I can't prove I didn't. But I swear to you I didn't have a hand in either.”
“
Somone
put them up to it.”
Somone
put them up to it.”
“Why does it have to be me?”
That stopped Fargo in his mental tracks. He'd figured it to be Allen because of how Allen was, and because others had warned him to be on his guard. But what if he was mistaken?
Allen went on. “I admit I'm not fond of you. You treat me like I'm an idiot. But I don't hate you. There's one person who does, though. Hates you enough to do anything to destroy you.”
“Who?”
“I can't say.”
Fargo was tempted to beat it out of him, but not with Angeline there. “I can make you tell me.”
“Skye!” she exclaimed. “Surely you're not suggesting you would beat it out of him?”
“I don't like it when people try to kill me.”
“I don't blame you. But you heard my brother. It could be anyone.” Angeline smiled. “I want the two of you to shake hands and promise you'll try to get along.”
Allen immediately held his hand out. “I'm willing if he is, sis.”
Fargo didn't trust him. To show his displeasure, when they shook, he squeezed so that Allen winced and looked fearful Fargo would break his fingers.
“There. Don't you feel better now?” Angeline patted her brother's shoulder and then looped her arm through Fargo's. “Now that that's settled, how about if you treat me to coffee?”
Fargo was thinking. What if she was right? What if Allen wasn't lying? Then who was responsible for the attempts on his life?
“I'm so excited,” Angeline prattled on. “In a few days we'll be at Boston Bar. I hope Kenneth is there. I pray we find him alive and well. Maybe he's been writing but the letters don't reach us.”
“That could happen,” Fargo supposed. Frontier mail wasn't the most reliable. Hostiles, the weather, coaches that broke down, and horses that came up lameâa host of problems afflicted the express companies. The wonder of it was that
any
mail got through.
any
mail got through.
The restaurant was small and quiet and relaxing after the hubbub of the street. They sat at a corner table.
“I can't thank you enough for doing that. Don't think I don't realize it took some doing,” Angeline said.
“Your brother is lucky to have a sister like you.”
“Any sister would do the same. I grant you that Allen can be unbearable. He can be rude and childish and petty. But he's still my brother.” Angeline gabbed on about what it was like growing up in the Havard household, and how close she was to Kenneth, and how sad she was when Kenneth and her father had had a falling-out over Cosmo.
“What was that?” Fargo hadn't been paying a lot of attention.
“About Cosmo? Kenneth didn't like the influence Cosmo has over our father. He told Father either Cosmo had to go or he would, and Cosmo didn't, so he did.”
“That's when he came north after gold?”
Angeline spooned sugar into her cup. “I don't know if it was the gold so much as Kenneth just wanted to get away. He'd read about the strikes up here and probably decided it was as good a place as any.”
“What about you? How do you feel about Cosmo?”
“I don't much care one way or the other. Father has always had manservants. Before Cosmo, there was Bruce. As quiet as a mouse, he was, and so devoted. I don't think I ever saw them apart, not once in ten years. Then Bruce caught pneumonia and died, and father hired Cosmo to take his place.”
“Did Kenneth hate Bruce, too?”
“You know, now that you mention it, they never got along very well, either.” Angeline sat back. “But enough about me and my family. Let's talk about you. What would you like most in the world?”
“To give you a poke.” Fargo didn't know what had made him say it. Maybe it was her lips or how her body filled out her dress.
“My word. Here you go again. But not an hour ago you were poking that saloon girl. And before her you poked that Indian. Don't you ever get tired of all your poking?”
Fargo laughed.
“I must say, you're different from most men I've know. You're much more”âAngeline searched for the right wordâ“earthy.”
“Is that yes or no?”
“You're serious? You honestly think I would let you touch me after I know you've slept with other women?”
“It makes a difference?”
“Maybe not to some women but it does to me. I'm not as promiscuous as they are.”
A man entered and looked around. He had dark eyes and a bristly beard and was bundled in a bulky bearskin coat and a beaver hat. He spotted them and lumbered over. Without saying a word he leaned on their table and stared at Angeline. “Here you are. I had to look pretty near everywhere but I've found you.”
“I beg your pardon. Do you want something?”
“You.”
Fargo sat up. “The lady is with me.”
“Do I look like I care?” The man-bear reached a big paw across and gripped a startled Angeline by the wrist. “On your feet. I'm taking you and that's all there is to it.”
“How dare you!” Angeline sought to twist free. “Who do you think you are?”
“Folks hereabouts call me Hermit on account of I live off by myself and don't get into town much.”
“Let go of her,” Fargo warned.
Hermit looked at him. “You annoy me, mister. And those who annoy me, I stomp.”
16
Ever since Fargo had arrived in Yale, it had been one aggravation after another. And now this man called Hermitâwho smelled worse than a wet dog sprayed by a skunkâmarched in out of the blue and grabbed hold of Angeline Havard.
Fargo's temper snapped. He came up out of his chair, his fist arcing, and connected with Hermit's bearded chin. Ordinarily that was enough to drop a man where he stood. Hermit, though, merely staggered, then tossed his head like a mad bull.
“You shouldn't ought to have done that, mister.”
“I said to leave the lady be.”
“I can't do that. Someone wants to see her, and I'm to take her whether she wants to go or not.”
“Who wants to see me?” Angeline asked. “What's this about?”
“You'll find out when we get there, lady. Now come on. On your feet so I can get this done.”
Fargo started around the table. “Some people just can't take a hint.”
“No, they can't,” Hermit said, and reaching under the table, he flipped it over.
Fargo leaped back as the table came down with a crash, narrowly missing his legs. He pushed to get it out of his way.
Already, Hermit had pulled Angeline out of her chair and was tramping toward the door. She dug in her heels and beat on him with her small fist.
“Let go of me!”
Hermit was unfazed. He brushed aside a man in an apron who tried to stop him, and reached for the latch.
By then Fargo caught up. He slammed a punch low on Hermit's back, and Hermit grunted. Fargo drove another blow between Hermit's shoulder blades, thinking it would bring Hermit to his knees.
A backhand caught Fargo across the face, splitting his lip. He felt blood trickling. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he waded in again. “You're not taking her anywhere.”
Hermit turned. He growled like a riled bear and pushed Angeline to one side. “Stay where you are until I'm done with this pest.” He held up both huge fists.
Fargo thought the man was going to box, so he brought up his own. The moment he did, Hermit dived at his legs. Fargo sprang to the right but he wasn't quite quick enough. Iron arms wrapped around his shins and he crashed onto the hardwood floor.
“I've got you now!” Hermit crowed.
Fargo hit him on the cheek and on the shoulders, without effect.
Hermit, undaunted, let go of his legs and lunged, clamping both arms around Fargo's waist. “This will teach you.”
Placing his hands on Hermit's arms, Fargo struggled for all he was worth. He might as well be trying to bend rock. Hermit levered onto his knees, pulling Fargo with him, and grinned in Fargo's face.
“Ever hear of a bear hug?”
Excruciating pain spiked through Fargo, from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. He pushed and thrashed but he couldn't break free. Slowly, inexorably, Hermit's arms clamped tighter and tighter, until Fargo would swear his spine was ready to splinter.
“Finding it hard to breathe yet, pest?”
As a matter of fact, Fargo was. He sucked in a ragged breath. “You can't take her.”
“No one can stop me.”
It occurred to Fargo that the man wasn't trying to kill, just to keep him from interfering. He slammed a jab to Hermit's chin and thought he broke every bone in his hand. Since all else had failed, Fargo resorted to a nasty tactic; he gouged his thumbs into Hermit's eyes.
Hermit threw his head back and roared in pain. Spinning, he threw Fargo from him with such force that he sprawled onto his hands and knees. He scrabbled to his feet, or attempted to, when suddenly a hand locked onto his chin and another got hold of his hair.
“Ever hear a neck break?”
Fargo thought the pain before was bad; this was worse. He struggled fiercely and couldn't break Hermit's grip. Slowly, agonizingly, his head was being twisted from his neck. He slammed his elbow into Hermit's gut but it was like hitting a washboard. Points of light danced before his eyes and he swore he could feel his flesh ripping.
Then there was a loud crash, and an outcry, and the pressure eased. Fargo sank onto his side. The fireflies stopped swirling, and he saw Hermit with a hand to the back of his head, wearing a bewildered expression.
“Why'd you go and do that for, dang you?” he demanded.
Angeline had hit him with a chair. It lay in broken pieces at his big feet. “You were hurting him!”
“Only because he won't let me do what I came to do,” Hermit protested in the manner of a petulant child. “Why are you making it so hard when all I want to do is help?”
“By taking me against my will?”
“Will you come if I ask real nice?”
“I don't want to go with you, period.”
“But he told me to fetch you,” Hermit persisted. “He said you would be happy to come.”
“Who did?”
“I'm not supposed to say.”
“But how can I go if I don't know who it is?”
The lines in Hermit's craggy countenance deepened. “All these questions are giving me an ache in my brainpan.”
By then Fargo had recovered enough to imitate Angeline. Laying hold of another chair, he raised it aloft.
“Skye, don't!” Angeline darted between them, her arms up to keep the chair from descending.
Hermit turned and glared. “You sneaky cuss. You were fixing to bean me when I wasn't looking.”
“Looking or not, it's the same to me,” Fargo said, and raised the chair higher.
“No!” Angeline objected.
“I've had enough,” Hermit said, talking more to himself than to either of them. “I try to do a friend a favor and I get hit and kicked and beat on with chairs.” He stomped to the door and flung it open. “See if I ever do a good deed again.” The door slammed behind him.
“What in the world just happened?” Angeline said.
Fargo lowered the chair. “It beats the hell out of me.” Inspiration struck, and he grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“We're following your friend to see where he goes.” Fargo hurried out and spied the man bear heading up the street; he was so tall he was head and shoulders above most everyone else.
“I've never laid eyes on him before.” Angeline began dragging her feet, literally. “Is this wise? He nearly tore your head off. Why push your luck?”
“Wouldn't you like to know who put him up to it?”
That silenced her. Together they threaded through the passersby. Fargo was careful not to get too close. When Hermit suddenly stopped and began to turn, Fargo crouched and pulled Angeline down with him.
“What the hell?” a man said as he nearly tripped over them.
Fargo dared a peek. Hermit had gone on. They followed, Angeline walking so close to him they brushed bodies.
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