The Trailsman 317 (5 page)

Malachi Skagg laughed.

Mabel's blunder caught Fargo off guard.

They had finished eating and Mabel mentioned she would like to take a stroll. Fargo pulled out her chair for her and followed her out. Skagg, arranging bottles on a shelf, did not look up. Tamar was in the back.

After the gloom of the trading post, the bright glare of the sun caused Fargo to squint. He noticed several of Skagg's men lounging close by and turned away from them toward the Untilla River. Mabel was staring at it, and he was about to ask if she wanted to walk to the landing when she abruptly pivoted and cleared her throat.

“Gentlemen. In case any of you are not aware of it, I am Mabel Landry, and I am seeking my brother. I understand he stopped here. Perhaps one of you remembers him. Perhaps you know where he went from here, or anything else about his whereabouts that would interest me.”

The men all looked at one another, and the one called Binder asked, “What if we do?”

“I am prepared to pay one hundred dollars for information that leads me to my brother, whether he is alive or dead.”

Binder whistled softly and said, “You have that much on you, do you, lady?”

“I would not offer it if I did not have it,” Mabel answered. “Spread the word. Inform everyone you know. Surely someone here can help me.”

Fargo gripped her elbow and propelled her toward the landing, none too gently.

“What are you doing?” Mabel demanded. She resisted, digging in her heels. “Desist this second. I will not be manhandled.”

“I should throw you in the river,” Fargo snapped. “You just strapped a sign to your back that says ‘Slit my throat.'”

Mabel stopped struggling. “What on earth are you babbling about?”

Fargo did not answer until they reached the landing. The logs were crudely hewn, the supports embedded in the bank so it could not be swept away by a flash flood. The canoes bobbed at the ends of their lines, oars lying in the bottoms of each, ready for use.

“I am waiting,” Mabel said impatiently.

“Soon everyone in Skagg's Landing will know you have a lot of money on you.”

“I did not tell them exactly how much. I only offered a hundred.”

Fargo indicated the knot of cutthroats near the trading post. “It's more than most of them have had at any one time in their whole lives.”

“Which is why I offered it,” Mabel said. “How else might I stir them to help me find my brother or his body?”

Fargo sighed. She was missing the point. “They will do anything to get their hands on that money. And when I say anything, I mean
anything
. They will kill, even.”

“Here you go again,” Mabel said in disgust. “You think everyone is out to harm us.”

“From now on we should stick together,” Fargo advised. “Never leave my sight unless you tell me where you are going.”

“Oh, please. I do not require a nursemaid.” Mabel stepped to the end of the landing and was quiet a bit, then asked, “How far inland does the river go?”

Fargo pointed to the west at the peaks of the Sawatch Range. “Another twenty miles or so. It is fed by runoff.” The river was narrower higher up. It widened to thirty feet at the landing. Random rapids made it a challenge to navigate.

“Would it be possible for us to take a canoe if we have to go inland?” Mabel wondered. “I am sick to death of a saddle. I am sore in places I have never been sore before.”

“We will see.” Fargo did not like the idea of leaving the Ovaro untended.

“How long will we stay here before we move on?”

“We will see,” Fargo said again. “For now let's get through the night. Do you want to sleep in a cabin or under the stars?”

“As fond as I am of my creature comforts, I will pick stars over lice any day of the week.”

Malachi Skagg came to the door of the trading post and watched as they climbed on their horses and entered the timber.

Fargo rode until he found a clearing to his liking. Near the river, it was in the shape of a teardrop. He used picket pins to reduce the risk of their animals wandering off—or being taken. He got a fire going, then walked to the river to fill his coffeepot. Sinking to one knee, he went to dip the pot in the water.

Imprinted in the soft soil at the water's edge was a footprint. The print was so clear that he could make out the stitching on the moccasin. He told Mabel about it as he was putting coffee grounds in the pot. “An Untilla warrior, unless I miss my guess. Not more than two days old.”

“Well, you did say they come here to trade with Skagg,” Mabel said.

Even so, Fargo was uneasy. He had enough to deal with, what with Skagg and Skagg's men. He did not need the Untillas to complicate matters.

The afternoon waned and evening fell. Mabel, who had been unable to sit still for more than two minutes, turned to him and whispered, “Do you have the feeling we are being watched? I did not want to say anything because I thought it might be a case of nerves, but I have felt eyes on me for quite a while now.”

“So have I.” Fargo spread out his blankets and propped his saddle for a pillow. He leaned back, the Henry at his side. From under his hat brim he scoured the vegetation. He saw nothing, and was about convinced he was wasting his time when a thicket parted, framing a face and a partially scalped head. “You can come out,” Fargo said. “I won't shoot you.”

Binder cautiously emerged. As he crossed the clearing, he repeatedly glanced over his shoulder.

“Worried about something?” Mabel asked.

“If Skagg finds out I came, my life won't be worth a gob of spit,” Binder replied. “I reckon you have guessed why I am here so let's get down to business. You made mention of a hundred dollars. I want half in advance and the other half when we reach the cabin.”

“Not so fast,” Mabel said. “What cabin are you talking about?”

“The one your brother built. The one he was living in,” Binder said. “I have been there several times and can lead you right to it.” He held out a dirty palm. “Fifty dollars, if you please.”

“I don't please,” Mabel said. “I am not a fool. I offered a hundred and I will pay a hundred, but only when we get there. Not before.”

“I am taking my life in my hands and you are quibbling,” Binder objected.

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Mabel said. “You could be lying. If I pay you the fifty, I might never see you again.”

“All right,” Binder said sourly. “I will be here first thing in the morning to guide you. It will take the better part of three days to get there.”

“That long?”

“Your brother wanted to be shed of human company, remember?” Binder said. “He was a strange one, but I liked him. He always treated me decent.”

“You talk about him in the past tense,” Mabel said. “Why is that? What has happened?”

“I am sorry.” Shaking his head, Binder backed toward the trees. “I will take you there but that is all I will do. The rest you must figure out on your own.” He stopped. “If you are smart, though, you won't be here come morning. You will pack up and head back before it is too late.” He pointed at Fargo. “Skagg hates your guts, mister. He has special plans for you. Plans that call for you to suffer. I wouldn't want to be you for all the money in creation.” So saying, he spun on a heel and vanished into the greenery.

“Well,” Mabel said.

Fargo began to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Have you nothing to say? An apology, perhaps? My little idea worked, didn't it?” When Fargo did not reply, she changed the subject. “Earlier Skagg mentioned that you broke his nose. Is that why he hates you so much? Why did you do it, anyway?”

Memories flooded through Fargo. He had stopped at the Landing for the night, and was at a corner table, eating, minding his own business. Tamar had waited on him and they had talked a while. She was friendly and lonely and eager for company. He did not know Skagg considered her his woman. His first inkling of trouble came when he saw Skagg glaring at him. Skagg had been drinking heavily. Without warning, he came around the counter, walked up behind her, and cuffed her over the head. Tamar fell to her knees. Nearly hysterical with fear, she asked Skagg what she had done. Instead of answering, Skagg commenced striking her about her shoulders and back. Again and again and again, and all the while she pleaded and begged and wailed for him to stop.

No one was disposed to help her. Certainly not Skagg's men, some of whom laughed and whooped for Skagg to hit her harder.

Fargo had taken it as long as he could. Tamar was groveling on her belly and moaning pitiably when he pushed back his chair and stood. Bending, he gripped the chair by the legs and walk up behind Skagg. Someone shouted a warning, and Skagg turned. It was then Fargo swung, smashing the chair with all his might across Malachi Skagg's face. Skagg's nose made a crunching sound, the chair splintered, and Skagg collapsed in a sprawl.

Several of Skagg's men started toward them but changed their minds when Fargo's Colt leaped from his holster to his hand. He helped Tamar to her feet. She could not stop thanking him, and urged him to get out of there before Skagg came around.

“You don't know him like I do. He will kill you, mister. But only after he whittles on you some.”

Fargo had sought to convince her to gather up her possessions and light a shuck with him. He even offered to take her as far as Denver. But she declined.

Undaunted, Fargo had finished his meal, and then left. He never counted on stopping there again, and put the incident from his mind. Then along came Mabel Landry and her search for her missing brother, and now here he was, tempting Skagg's wrath.

“Well?” Mabel prompted. “You haven't answered me.”

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Fargo said.

“There must be more to it than that. Why won't you come right out and say?”

Before Fargo could answer, the vegetation crackled and out flew Binder. He came straight to them, glancing repeatedly to his rear, fear writ large on his face. “You are about to have company!” he breathlessly exclaimed. “It is the big man himself! Remember, I was never here.” He raced on past them and into the woods on the other side of the clearing.

“What do we do?” Mabel asked.

“We stay calm,” Fargo said. But it took every ounce of will he possessed not to grab her hand and seek cover. Leaning back against his saddle, he took a sip of hot coffee.

Malachi Skagg did not sneak up on them. He strode into the clearing flanked by four of his pack of human wolves. At a gesture from him, they stopped and he came over to the fire.

“Mr. Skagg!” Mabel cheerfully greeted him. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

“I am looking for one of my men,” Skagg said. “His name is Binder, and he was last seen headed this way.”

“I am afraid I do not know the man,” Mabel said. “What would he want with us?”

“That is what I want to know,” Skagg replied. “I gave orders that no one is to come anywhere near you without my say-so.”

“Why on earth would you do a thing like that?” Mabel feigned innocence.

Fargo lowered the tin cup. “He doesn't want you to find out the truth about your brother.”

Skagg's less than handsome face was made uglier by his hate. “What truth would that be? The one where he got his throat slit by the Untillas? Or caught in an avalanche? Or maybe eaten by a griz?”

“Or maybe killed by you?” Fargo said.

“Give me a reason for me to have him planted,” Skagg countered. “I don't go around killing folks for the fun of it.”

“I don't have one,” Fargo admitted, adding meaningfully, “yet.”

Skagg's smile was ice and spite. “When your time comes, you will die slow and you will die hard, and you will scream the whole time.”

Mabel wagged a finger in reproach. “That was mean. Did you treat my brother the same way you treat Fargo?”

“Hell, no,” Skagg said. “He was an infant, and it is no fun to pick on infants. Most won't fight back, and those that do can't fight worth a lick.”

“More of your passion for violence,” Mabel commented. “One of these days your evil deeds will catch up with you.”

“So I am evil now, am I? Have you been listening to him?” Skagg jerked a thumb at Fargo.

“He won't tell me the cause of the trouble between you two.”

“I might if you ask me real nice,” Skagg said with a leer. “A little sweet talk goes a long way.”

“Need I remind you I am a lady?”

“It riles me when a female puts on airs,” Skagg told her. “I have a way of curing you of that flaw.”

“Do you indeed?” Mabel pushed to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. “I have about had my fill of your arrogance. You will leave, and you will leave this instant.”

Malachi Skagg laughed. “You have spunk. I like that.”