UNINVITED GUESTS

Fargo loosed off three quick shots, hoping that the Murrays were stupid enough to be riding in front of the gang. Jed and the others opened up about that time, and the gang members started firing off their pistols and rifles. Bright muzzle flashes lit up the dark and showed the faces of the men in reddish light.

Someone fired in the direction of the muzzle flash from Fargo�s Colt, but Fargo had already flattened himself on the floor of the loft. As he reloaded, he looked over the edge at the fighting that was going on below and saw the vague outlines of black figures striking out with hoes and pitchforks and a scythe or two. He heard the grunting of their efforts and the yells of men being jabbed by a pitchfork or sliced by a scythe. Men were being pulled off their horses now, and it was becoming impossible for Fargo to distinguish between friend and foe. He decided it was time for him to leave the loft, and when a horseman passed beneath him, he dropped over the edge and landed behind the rider.

The horse reared up, and Fargo put his arms around the rider, finding to his surprise that he wasn�t behind a horseman at all but a woman. . . .

The Trailsman

Beginnings . . . they bend the tree and they mark the man. Skye Fargo was born when he was eighteen. Terror was his midwife, vengeance his first cry. Killing spawned Skye Fargo, ruthless, cold-blooded murder. Out of the acrid smoke of gunpowder still hanging in the air, he rose, cried out a promise never forgotten.

The Trailsman they began to call him all across the West: searcher, scout, hunter, the man who could see where others only looked, his skills for hire but not his soul, the man who lived each day to the fullest, yet trailed each tomorrow. Skye Fargo, the Trailsman, the seeker who could take the wildness of a land and the wanting of a woman and make them his own.

Kansas 1859�

1

Skye Fargo wasn�t fond of weddings. He was a Trailsman, a man given to wandering, sometimes leading other people where they wanted to go, sometimes journeying on his own. He liked the mountains and the sky. He liked being able to see the far horizons, and he liked the feel of a good horse under him. He couldn�t quite grasp the idea of a man giving up his freedom to tie himself to one woman and one spot of earth. There was nothing wrong with settling down and having a family for other people, but it wasn�t for Fargo.

Sometimes, though, the celebrations leading up to the wedding were all right, especially if there was food, music, dancing, and pretty women. Jedadiah Brand had taken care to provide all those things, and Fargo surely appreciated them.

�This is a mighty fine celebration, Jed,� Fargo said as he looked out at the dancers in the big barn.

At one end of the barn, there was a small platform where a fiddler was sawing away, calling the dance at the same time, and Fargo could smell the dust that the couples on the floor were raising as they moved enthusiastically to the fiddler�s tune. There were several children there, cutting a rug in improvised dances of their own. Fargo knew men who would ride for two days to go to a good dance, and this was a good one indeed.

There was food, too, on long tables at the end of the barn opposite the fiddler: the smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the smell of the dust, and there was corn on the cob, green beans, yellow crookneck squash, and good Kansas beef. Fargo had already tried a little of everything, and he planned to eat some more later on.

Some of the women dancers were as pretty as Fargo had seen for a while. Of course, some of them weren�t, but that didn�t bother Fargo any. He liked women in general, and he was always glad to be around them.

�Hard to believe a man would get married,� Fargo said, �with all those beauties around to tempt him.�

�I can�t be tempted by any but Abby,� Jed said. �You know that, Skye.�

Abigail, known to all as Abby, was dancing with her father, Lemuel Watkins, a tall man with black hair going gray, wide shoulders, and big hands. Abby didn�t look a thing like him. She was small and blond, with very blue eyes and a figure that would make a deacon think twice about his marriage vows. Fargo figured she took after her mother, who had died a few years earlier.

�I can�t say as I blame you,� Fargo said, �but it didn�t use to be that way.�

The truth was that when Fargo had known Jed in former days, he had been after women like a bear after honey, pretty much the same as Fargo. Jed had guided a few wagon trains with Fargo, and more than once he had come close to getting himself shot because he couldn�t stay away from a pretty woman. All that had changed when he met Abby Watkins. According to Jed, the first time he saw her, he felt like a man who�d been kicked in the head by a stallion, and from that time on he�d never even thought about another woman.

�And you know, Skye,� he�d told Fargo, �women were all I used to think about. Even for a while around here, I couldn�t keep my hands off of �em. But I�m a different man now.�

He surely was. He�d given up his wandering life, and he was going to be a Kansas farmer. Instead of leading wagon trains out of St. Louis, he was going to let other men, men like Fargo, take the pilgrims out of the plains. He was going to walk behind a mule, plow up the earth, and plant seeds. He was going to feed his chickens and grow his corn and cattle and try to make a living at it. Before long, if everything went the way Jed planned, he would have sons to help him out.

Fargo wondered a little about that. Lemuel Watkins had never had sons of his own, but he did have a pretty daughter and a big farm, along with a big barn and a tight-plastered house. Now, because of the daughter, he was getting himself a son to share the work, since Jed and Abby planned to live on the farm with him.

�It will be our farm when he passes on,� Jed had explained, so maybe he and Watkins were both getting something out of the deal.

And Jed was getting Abby into the bargain, so Fargo figured it wasn�t such a bad trade. Not one that he�d make, but not bad if that was what a man wanted.

�It�s going to be a good life, Fargo,� Jed said. �Different, that�s for sure, and not what I�m used to, but good. With Abby, it would have to be.�

�I wish you well,� Fargo said, �and now, if you don�t mind, I�d like to have a dance with your bride-to-be.�

�As long as you�re going to stand up for me tomorrow at the wedding, I can�t very well refuse you the pleasure of a dance,� Jed said. �But I know you from way back, Fargo. Just be sure to keep your hands where they belong and to talk about the weather or the music.�

�If I didn�t know better, I�d think you didn�t trust me.�

�I trust you all right, but when a wolf is in among the hens, it pays to be a little extra careful. Lem lost nearly seventy-five hens to wolves last winter, and I don�t plan to lose Abby to any wolf, animal or human, not even you.�

Fargo laughed. �You�re already talking like a farmer, Jed. But you don�t have to worry about me. I�d never try anything funny with anybody you cared about. You know that.�

�You�re right. I do. So go have your dance, and have some fun. Not too much fun, though.�

The fiddler�s tune was over, and the dancers were taking a breath before he got started again. There were several young men moving in Abby�s direction, but Fargo got to her first, and the other men stopped and looked at each other disgustedly for a second or two before moving off to find other partners.

It was clear that they didn�t think much of Fargo, who looked different from all of them. They were dressed in their Sunday best, while Fargo was in his buckskins. And while most of them were lean and fit from working their farms, there was something about Fargo�s build that suggested he knew how to handle himself in dangerous situations. And that he had, more than once.

Fargo had met Abby earlier, and she greeted him with a slightly worried smile.

�I�m glad you�re here, Fargo,� she said as they began the dance. �Jed could use a few more friends like you.�

There wasn�t time to say more, but Fargo knew what she meant. He�d talked to Jed and Lem about it the day before when he�d arrived at the farm. Kansas was in a turmoil because of the slavery issue. The free-staters were moving in and settling down, determined that there would be no slavery there, while the pro-slavery crowd was just as determined that Kansas would enter the union as a slaveholding state. The two groups had come into conflict, and the conflict had eventually become violent, with bloody clashes becoming more and more frequent, particularly in the eastern part of the state where the Watkins farm was located. The territorial government favored slavery and got the help of the United States Army to keep the free-staters under control, but the free-staters formed their own militia to fight back.

To make things worse, outlaw gangs, some of whom had been raiding the countryside for years, took advantage of the situation to increase their pillaging. They robbed and killed whenever and wherever they could while seeing to it that either the free-staters or the pro-slavery group got at least part of the blame for their crimes. It didn�t matter to the outlaws who got killed as long as their actions were thought of as patriotic by one side or the other, for the more fighting they could stir up between the two factions, the better it was for them.

Jed didn�t want to have anything to do with either side in the slavery fight, and he hated the outlaws. As he�d told Fargo, �All I want to do is settle down and be a farmer. I don�t want to have to carry a gun and be looking over my shoulder all the time.�

He didn�t sound quite convincing, and there was a shifty look in his eyes, as if he might have wanted to say more, but Lem Watkins was with them, and Jed deferred to him.

Lem Watkins felt pretty much as Jed said he did.

�A plague on all their houses,� Watkins said. �I�ve been a decent, hardworking man all my life. I don�t hold with slavery, but my hand fits a plow, not a gun. If people want to fight over who�s a slave and who�s free, let �em do it somewhere else. Those other killers all just need hanging, and the sooner the better.�

Fargo could understand how Jed and his future father-in-law felt, but he knew things didn�t always work themselves out in a peaceful way. A man couldn�t always avoid a fight, no matter how much he might want to. Fargo didn�t particularly enjoy having to use his Colt, but he had, and more than once. He preferred to settle things without shooting, but one thing he�d learned in his travels was that there were times when you had to let a pistol do the talking. There were too many people who didn�t understand any other language. Jed knew that, too, as well as Fargo did, but maybe the idea of becoming a farmer had helped him forget it.

Fargo led Abby through the dance, which was some kind of a variation on the Virginia reel, and they were too busy to talk. When the dance was over, Abby�s face was flushed with exertion, and Fargo felt a little warm himself.

�Could we go outside and talk?� Abby asked.

�I�m not sure Jed would like that,� Fargo said. �He might get the wrong idea.�

Abby�s face got even redder. She said, �He knows me better than that.�

Fargo gave her a grin. �He knows me, too.�

�You men. That�s all you ever think about.�

�Nope,� Fargo said. �But it�s one of the things. Sometimes we�ve got to plan on what to have for supper.� This was enough to get a laugh out of her.

�Well, I don�t talk about it, not even to Jed. Now, can we please go outside? It�s important.�

�If you say so.�

They walked the length of the barn, and Fargo could feel the eyes of the young men on him. He knew everyone wondered why he and Abby were going outside, and he hoped they didn�t get the wrong idea. In spite of his earlier joking, he thought he knew what Abby wanted to talk about, and it had nothing at all to do with sporting around.

Not that he wouldn�t have liked to give Abby a tumble. She seemed a little more prim and proper than the women who Fargo usually liked, but that could be just a cover. You could never tell for sure just by looking.

Fargo put his impure thoughts out of his mind. Abby, after all, was marrying Jed, and Fargo was going to stand up with them as best man. He would never betray a friend.

They went out through the big barn doors, and Abby said, �We don�t have to go far. Nobody�s going to follow us.�

Fargo wasn�t too sure of that. Jed might take a notion to see what was going on, though Fargo hoped he wouldn�t.

The moon hung big and bright in the night sky, which was dotted with high, icy stars. There was a light breeze that fluttered through the cornfields beyond the barn.

�What did you want to talk about?� Fargo asked.

Abby looked off into the dark fields. �I said that Jed could use a few friends like you. Did you know what I meant?�

�There�s been some trouble around here, so I heard.�

�Trouble? Is that what you call it?�

�Can�t think of a better word,� Fargo said.

�Well, it�s worse than trouble. People are being killed and robbed every day. Some of them have had their houses burned.�

Fargo wanted to ask what that had to do with him, but he was afraid he already knew the answer.

�Jed and your father told me they didn�t have anything to do with the trouble around here.�

�I�m sure they did. As far as my father goes, that�s true. It�s not so true for Jed. He was just saying what my father wanted to hear.�

Fargo had been afraid that might be the case. Jed�s evident lack of conviction when they�d been discussing it had made him wonder. Jed hadn�t forgotten how people were, after all.

�So he�s been getting mixed up in things, has he?� Fargo said.

�You know him. Are you surprised?�

Fargo grinned. �Not much. Which side is he taking? Is he for a Free State or a slaveholding one?�

�Free, but that�s not the real problem around here.�

�What is, then?� Fargo asked.

�The Murray gang, that�s what. Have you heard of them?�

Fargo had heard of them, all right. You didn�t have to be where you got a newspaper every day to hear about the Murrays. Father, son, and daughter had joined together with a bunch of ragtag outlaws who killed as much for the fun of it as for the profit they might find.

�What does Jed have to do with the Murrays?� Fargo asked.

�He�s spoken out against them. He�s even tried to talk some of the farmers around here into forming a vigilance group to fight them.�

�Does your father know about this?�

�Jed doesn�t talk about it around him, but he hasn�t made a secret of the way he feels when he talks in town.�

�As long as Lem isn�t around.�

�That�s right. Jed doesn�t want him to get upset.�

�Why would he do that?�

�Because he knows how Murray is. Most people who talk against him get their houses and crops burned. If they�re lucky.�

�What if they�re not lucky?�

�Then they get killed.�

�I can see why Lem doesn�t want to get mixed up in it. But Jed has always had a mind of his own.�

�He has more responsibilities now,� Abby said.

If Fargo was peeved by her casual assumption that men like him had no responsibilities, he didn�t show it. After all, it wasn�t her fault that she didn�t know how things were out on the trail or in the settlements farther out west. There were responsibilities aplenty for anyone who�d take them, and Jed had never been shy about doing it. He wasn�t shying away now, either, to hear Abby tell it.

�So you want Jed to forget about Murray and stick to his farming,� Fargo said.

Abby smiled. She had a nice smile that made little dimples appear in both cheeks.

�That�s right,� she said. �I want him to. But do you think he will?�

�Not likely.�

�You do know him, don�t you? But I haven�t told you everything.�

No wonder Jed had looked so shifty, Fargo thought. He asked what else Abby had to tell him about.

�Angel Murray,� Abby said. �She and Jed used to be . . . friends.�

Angel was the daughter of Peter Murray, the gang leader, and the sister of Paul, Peter�s son and second in command. Fargo didn�t have to ask how Angel and Jed had known each other. If Angel was as pretty as the stories had it, Jed wouldn�t have asked her much about her family�s habits when he first met her.

�I guess they were pretty good friends,� Fargo said.

The look in Jed�s eyes when they�d discussed the outlaw gangs was pretty much explained now, and Fargo figured that there had been other women as well, knowing Jed, even though he was interested only in Abby now.

�Yes, they were good friends,� Abby said. �If that�s what you want to call it. But now they�re not. She hates Jed because he quit seeing her when he found out about what she and her family did. And that�s why he needs a friend like you. Most of the people in there . . .� Abby paused and looked back at the barn. �Well, they�re good people. Like my father. He�d do anything for me, or for his neighbors. But they think they can stay out of a fight if they just look the other way. It doesn�t work like that.�

Fargo thought maybe he�d underestimated her. She wasn�t as naive as she�d sounded only a few seconds before.

�So,� she went on, �I was hoping you could stay around for a while. We could use a good hand around here.�

�I�m not much good at farming,� Fargo told her.

�I wasn�t thinking about farming.�

�I was afraid of that,� Fargo said. �You think Jed�s in danger, then.�

�I think we all are. You said you knew about the Murrays.�

�Revenge,� Fargo said. �That�s what they claim causes them to be the way they are.�

�That�s right. Their story is that they�ve been done wrong by everybody in the territory, and all they�re doing now is getting a little of their own back.�

�By killing and burning and stealing,� Fargo said.

�Any way they can. That�s what they say. I think they just do it because they like it.�

Fargo thought the same thing, but he was surprised that Abby did. She was seeming less innocent by the minute.

�You didn�t happen to invite them to the wedding, I guess.�

�No, of course not. Why do you ask?�

�Because I think they might be on the way,� Fargo said.

2

Fargo could hear the music coming from the barn, the clucking of the chickens on their roosts, the sound of the wind in the cornstalks. Those were the things that most people could have heard, if they�d listened for them. But Fargo had spent most of his life listening for things that not just anyone could hear, and now he heard the distant sound of hoofbeats, headed in the direction of the farm.

�You think the Murrays are coming here?� Abby said.

�It might not be the Murrays,� Fargo said, �but it�s a lot of riders. I think we should get back to the barn.�

Abby didn�t waste any time questioning him further, another point in her favor. She gathered her skirts and ran for the big open doors of the barn.

She had a head start, but Fargo, with his long, loping strides got there just a little ahead of her. He started swinging the tall doors shut while Abby ran to stand beside the fiddler and shout a warning.

�The Murrays are coming!�

She had to yell it twice before anybody paid her any attention. The second time, the fiddler stopped playing, his lively song ending on a squealing note that trailed off into nothing. The dancers stopped and turned to the stage.

�The Murrays are coming,� Abby said again into the silence that had settled in the barn.

The only other sound was the squealing of door hinges, and Fargo thought he and Abby were going to look pretty foolish if the riders passed the farm by or if they were only more guests, arriving late to the dance.

�What are we going to do?� somebody called out.

Fargo hadn�t thought much about that, but then he realized that the people in the barn were farmers. They wore pistols. They didn�t carry rifles. Of all the men there, only he and a couple of others, including Jed, had weapons. And they weren�t carrying them. They�d put them aside when the dance started.

�Get your guns,� Fargo said. �And then see if you can block the door with something.�

Barn doors weren�t made to be barred from the inside, and there was nothing more needed than a gentle push to open them. The Murray gang could ride right on in.

Fargo went over to the wall where he�d hung his gun belt on a nail. He took the belt down and buckled it on while Jed and several other men started stacking grain sacks against the doors. Fargo knew the bags wouldn�t stop anyone for very long. He looked around the barn for more weapons. There were a few tools, but that was all.

�Pitchforks in the loft,� Lem said at his side. �I got a shotgun in the house.�

�Too late for the shotgun,� Fargo said. �Grab a hoe.�

He smelled the dry hay as he started up the ladder to the high loft that ran half the length of the barn. There were no lanterns hanging up there, but Fargo thought how easily the whole barn could go up.

�Put out the lanterns,� he called.

It wouldn�t matter if the barn were in darkness. In fact, it would make things better. There was no danger of any of Jed�s guests shooting each other, since they weren�t armed, and the darkness would make it harder for the gang to find targets.

He reached the loft and tossed down a couple of pitchforks with long, curving tines.

�Don�t hit anyone who�s not on a horse,� he said.

Lem caught a pitchfork and said, �Get those lanterns out, like he told us.�

Several of the young men ran around the barn and doused the lights as the thudding of hoofbeats shook the ground outside the door.

There was one lantern left on, and long shadows danced around the barn walls before it was extinguished. In the sudden darkness there was gunfire from outside, and bullets smacked into the hard wood of the barn doors.

No doubt about it, Fargo thought, it was the Murray gang, all right.

There were only a few shots and then more silence. Fargo could hear the people in the barn moving around as they sought through the darkness for a place to hide. One of the younger children started crying, but the noise was cut off as someone covered his mouth. Fargo didn�t blame him for crying. There wouldn�t be much use in hiding if the Murrays got inside. People were going to die, and most of them would be farmers, not gang members.

Fargo could hear yelling outside, and then the barn doors began to slide slowly back into the barn. Fargo pulled the big Colt from its holster and got ready. The only advantage he and the other couple of armed men had was that they were in almost total darkness, whereas the Murrays would be silhouetted against the faint light from the moon and stars. Fargo hoped Jed had enough sense to hold his fire until more of the gang was bunched in the doorway.

Fargo needn�t have worried. Jed had always been cool even in a tight spot, and apparently the few other men with guns knew what to do.

The doors opened wider, and when they did, riders started to plunge through them. There were fifteen or twenty of them, all whooping and yelling and spurring up their mounts. Fargo couldn�t tell which one was Angel, not that it mattered. She�d have to take her chances with the rest of them.

Fargo loosed off three quick shots, hoping that the Murrays were stupid enough to be riding in front of the gang. He didn�t think that would be the case, but he was gratified to see three dark figures pitch backward off their horses.

Jed and the others opened up about that time, and the gang members started firing off their pistols and rifles. The bright muzzle flashes lit up the dark and showed the faces of the men in reddish light. Fargo fired again, but by then the Murrays were all inside and it wasn�t easy to pick them off without endangering everyone else.

Someone fired in the direction of the muzzle flash from Fargo�s Colt, but Fargo had already flattened himself on the floor of the loft. As he reloaded, he looked over the edge at the fighting that was going on below and saw the vague outlines of black figures striking out with hoes and pitchforks and a scythe or two. He heard the grunting of their efforts and the yells of men being jabbed by a pitchfork or sliced by a scythe. Men were being pulled off their horses now, and it was becoming impossible for Fargo to distinguish between friend and foe. He decided it was time for him to leave the loft, and when a horseman passed beneath him, he dropped over the edge and landed behind the rider.

The horse reared up, and Fargo put his arm around the rider, finding to his surprise that he wasn�t behind a horseman at all but a woman. His hands held her soft, pillowy breasts, but he didn�t have time to enjoy the experience. She snapped her head back in an attempt to catch him sharply on the point of the chin. He might have fallen if he hadn�t been ready for some such trick, and he had moved his head far enough to the side so that he caught only a glancing blow. He twisted her roughly and threw her from the horse. He wasn�t worried about where she landed or about whether she was under the horse�s hoofs. He pulled his pistol and looked around for other riders.

He saw muzzle shots as pistols were fired, but he didn�t know who was doing the shooting now, so he didn�t try firing any shots in the direction of the flares. He saw one big horse wheeling in the middle of the barn, and the dark rider was yelling something that Fargo couldn�t quite understand. He pointed his Colt in that direction, but before he could pull the trigger, someone grabbed his left leg and gave a hard yank, pulling him from the saddle.

Fargo landed hard on his back. Someone kicked him in the head, and his finger tightened on the trigger of the Colt, sending a wild shot along the dirt floor of the barn. Fargo�s head throbbed, and there was dirt in his eyes. He expected that his attacker would shoot him, or at least kick him again, but it didn�t happen. He pawed dirt from his eyes and saw that the woman he�d pulled from the horse was mounting it again, and then the Murray gang was helling it out the barn, yelling and waving their hats as if they�d won some kind of victory.

Fargo had to roll aside to keep from being trampled. The farmers fired a few shots after the riders, and then it was quiet in the barn except for some moans from the wounded and the crying of frightened children. The air was filled with acrid smoke from the pistol shots.

�Get those lanterns lit,� Lemuel Watkins called out, and after a few seconds someone followed his orders.

Fargo stood up, his knees a little shaky, and touched a hand to his head. There was no blood, but a lump was forming just above his right temple. He holstered his Colt and looked around the barn.

There were men standing with their hands to bloodied shoulders and heads, at least one woman had been hit in the arm. As far as Fargo could see, none of the children had been hurt. Several horses were milling around, and Lemuel gave orders to get them under control. They had belonged to dead outlaws, of whom Fargo saw at least five.

Over to one side of the barn, a man lay face down in the dirt, the back of his head blown off. Fargo felt his insides go hollow. Even from where he stood he could tell that the dead man was Jed Brand.

3

Many of the people who had come to the dance had gone on back home, but there were still several men and a few women in the barn. They had pulled the bodies of the dead outlaws to the side and raked dirt over the blood on the floor. The outlaws� weapons were stacked on the table with the food that would now serve for a funeral meal. Most of the men were standing around in a little knot, talking in low voices. The women were standing by the table, not saying much of anything to anybody.

�We caught most of the horses,� a tall, gangly man said to Fargo. �Got �em over to the little corral, but that won�t hold �em. It�s not meant for more than a couple of mules. Name�s Frank Conner, by the way.�

�Mine�s Fargo.�

�Yeah. Jed�s friend from out west. I heard about you. I figger you�re more or less in charge tonight, since Lem�s not here and Jed�s dead.�

Fargo didn�t want to be in charge, but he didn�t see any way out of it. He said, �We need to see about getting those bodies buried tonight. No sense leaving them to ripen till morning.�

He thought about Jed in the kitchen. Well, Jed would keep.

�Where we gonna bury �em?� Conner asked. �I don�t know that they�re worth hauling to the cemetery, and it�s certain and sure nobody wants �em in the churchyard.�

Fargo had looked the Watkins place over when he arrived the day before, and he knew it was located on a little creek. There was some marshy land down by the creek that wasn�t fit for farming, and the digging would be easy enough. He told Conner to take the bodies there, and asked if there were any other men who could stay and help with the work.

�I�ll help,� someone said at Fargo�s shoulder.

He turned to see a woman almost as tall as he was. She was wide through the shoulders and narrow at the waist, but she flared out at the hips. She wasn�t wearing a dress as the other women had been. She had on a pair of heavy work boots, a cotton shirt, and thick denim pants.

�I�m Molly,� she said in a voice almost as deep as a man�s. �Alice, really, but everybody calls me Molly. Molly Doyle. And I can dig as long and deep as any man here.�

As if to prove it, she stuck out her hand for Fargo to shake. It was as big as his own, and callused hard as bone by a lifetime of labor.

�Got my own place close by here,� Molly said. �It�s small, and I pretty much run it by myself, but I can outwork any man in this barn.�

�There�s some might question that,� Conner said, and Molly gave him a hard look. �Not that I�d be one of them. I know better than to say a thing like that. I�ll tell you, Fargo, Molly could probably whip half the men in here.�

�Half, hell,� Molly said. �All of �em.�

�I won�t argue that with you either,� Conner told her. �I know it�s rough on you about Jed, and I�m sorry for that.�

�Jed never gave a rat�s ass for me, and you know it, Frank Conner. Now, let�s get busy and get those bodies out of here.�

�I�ll hitch Lem�s mules to his wagon, and we can pile �em on there,� Conner said. �Be a lot easier than dragging them.�

�Good idea,� Fargo said, and Conner walked away.

�He�s one who won�t be all that sorry that Jed got killed,� Molly said when Conner was out of earshot.

�Why�s that?� Fargo asked.

� �Cause he was sweet on Abby before Jed moved in on him. He thought he was the one who�d be marrying her and getting himself set up with this farm.�

�I thought he already had a farm.�

�He does, but it�s nothing to speak of. He�s not much of a worker, and he doesn�t make good crops. Not much of a builder, either. You could put his house and barn inside this place here and still have room for a few cows and mules.�

�Maybe he just had an eye for a pretty woman.�

Molly considered that. �Could be. There were a couple of others who had the same idea he did, and one of �em was even married.�

Fargo didn�t care to hear about Abby�s suitors right at the moment. He said, �Judging from what Conner said, I�d guess you were sweet on Jed.�

�You�d be right about that, for all the good it ever did me. I�m not a delicate little flower like Abby, and I guess Jed didn�t want a woman who could work just as hard and as long as he could. He wanted somebody he could sit in a parlor and look pretty.� Molly grinned. �Not a damned thing wrong with that. It�s just not my style, as you can see.�

She wasn�t exactly pretty, Fargo thought, but she wasn�t ugly, either. She had a good smile, and while she was big, covering up her body in men�s clothes, he could see the outlines of generous curves.

�Maybe Jed didn�t know what he was missing,� Fargo said.

Molly�s smile widened, and she said, �You got that right, Fargo, but then most men are afraid of a big woman. Maybe you�re not.�

�Maybe,� Fargo said.

At that point Conner came back into the barn, leading a couple of lop-eared mules hitched to a wagon. He led the mules over to where the bodies lay and looked around for help.

Fargo looked at Molly. �I guess we�d better help him load them.�

�Doesn�t look like anybody else is rushing to do it. Let�s go.�

�I�ll get us some help,� Molly said. �Johnson, Talley, get over here. You, too, Wesley.�

At the sound of her yell, three men detached themselves from the group and looked at her.

�We�re gonna take care of the bodies,� Molly said. �Come on and make yourselves useful.�

If the men were bothered that a woman was ordering them around, they didn�t show it. Fargo and Molly walked over to the bodies where Conner was already standing, and the three men joined them there. Nobody said anything, and Fargo bent over to grab a man�s body by the shoulders.

�Somebody get his legs,� Fargo said, and Molly grabbed his ankles. They swung the body once and pitched it in the wagon bed.

A short man with a red face and a thick neck bent over the next body, took a good look at the face, and said, �Shit.�

�That�s no way to talk in front of a lady, Alf Wesley,� Molly said.

�I don�t see no ladies real close by here, Molly,� Wesley said. �What I do see is trouble. How about it, Talley?�

Talley, who had a thin face with its features all squashed together in the middle of it, said, �I think you�re probably right, Alf. Goddamn, how was anybody to know? I wish to hell I�d stayed home tonight.�

�You came for the same reason I did,� Wesley told him. �You wanted one last sniff of Abby before she got married. And now that she ain�t getting married, maybe both of us still have a chance.�

�That�s a terrible thing to say,� the third man told them.

�You can�t fool us, Rip Johnson,� Talley said, squinting his close-set eyes. �You might be a married man, but you�ve been sniffing around Abby as long as I can remember, hoping to get you a little piece on the side.�

Fargo looked at Molly. Far from being offended by the rough talk, she seemed to be enjoying herself. As for the men, they seemed to think she was one of them. Fargo knew they would never have talked that way in front of somebody they considered a proper lady.

Conner was the only one who seemed embarrassed. He said, �There�s no call for that kind of talk, fellas. Besides, you�re getting off the subject. What is it that�s going to cause so much trouble for us?�

�Hell,� Wesley said. �Can�t you see it for yourself?�

�If I could, I wouldn�t have asked you.�

�Well, take a better look. Who do you think that is lying there.�

Conner looked down at the body. The dead face stared back at him with wide-open eyes. It was a young face, with hardly a trace of a beard, but the eyes were hard, as if even in life they had been cold as the moon on a winter night.

�Don�t know him,� Conner said, looking back at Wesley.

�Well, I sure as hell do, and so does everybody else standing here.� He looked at Fargo. �Except maybe you, stranger. What did you say your name was?�

Fargo hadn�t mentioned his name, and he didn�t remember having met Wesley when he�d been introduced around by Jed earlier in the evening. He didn�t go into that, however. He just said, �My name�s Fargo.�

�You know who this is, Fargo?�

�No, I can�t say that I do. Like you said, I�m a stranger around here. Who is it?�

�It�s Paul Murray, that�s who it is. Peter Murray�s son.�

�Shit,� Conner said.

�Right,� Wesley. �That�s what I said. �Shit.� Which is just exactly what�s going to come down on us from now on. Pete Murray will never let this go by. He won�t know who did it, so he won�t know who to kill. It could have been anybody in here that had a gun. Not that it�ll make any difference to Pete. He�ll just take it out on everybody who was here tonight. We might all be better off if we just packed our duds and cleared off our land right now.�

�We�ve all got too much time and money and sweat invested to do that,� Conner said.

�Won�t any of that matter if we�re dead,� Wesley told him.

�Anyhow, I didn�t shoot him,� Conner said. �I don�t even have a pistol.�

�You see that pile of weapons over on that table?� Molly asked, pointing toward them.

�Sure, I see �em. I�m not blind.� Conner shrugged. �But they don�t have anything to do with me. Those all belonged to the Murray gang.�

�And we picked �em up and put �em on the table,� Johnson said. �So what?�

�You might have picked them up and put them there,� Molly said, �but that doesn�t mean somebody else didn�t pick one up first, use it, and throw it back down. So you can�t weasel out of it by saying you didn�t have a pistol.�

�Dammit, I wasn�t trying to weasel out of anything.�

�It�s not doing us any good to argue about things like that,� Talley said. �Wesley�s right. It doesn�t matter who killed Murray�s son. We�re all going to pay for it.�

�Maybe we could do something about it,� Molly said.

�What would that be?� Talley asked.

�We could go get Murray before he gets us.�

�You�re sounding just like Jed now,� Conner said. �It won�t do you any good. You can�t impress a dead man.�

Molly�s face reddened. �I�m not trying to impress anybody. I�m just making sense.�

�Right,� Wesley said. �The same way Jed made sense, and you see where it got him. Laid out dead as a hammer.�

There was still something bothering Fargo about Jed�s death, but he couldn�t quite figure out what it was. He said, �Where does the Murray gang hide out?�

�They don�t have to hide,� Molly said, giving Wesley a scornful look. �Everybody�s afraid of �em, so they can walk right down the streets of town without worrying about a thing. Makes it right handy when they want to rob a bank.�

�Nothing wrong with wanting to stay alive,� Wesley said. �I don�t think I�d like being dead one bit.�

�You�re probably right, considering where you�d be,� Molly said. �Might hot there, so I�ve heard.�

Wesley drew himself up to his full height, which put his head on about the level of Molly�s shoulders.

�If you weren�t a woman, I�d have to bust you for having such a smart mouth.�

�You could go ahead and give it a try,� Molly said. �And we could see what would happen.�

Fargo grinned. �This isn�t getting those bodies buried. Let�s get them out of here and down to the river bottom.�

Wesley grumbled a little, but they loaded the other bodies into the wagon. They found some shovels and put them into the wagon as well, and Conner drove out of the barn while the others sat in the rear with the bodies, except for Molly, who was riding beside him.

The night had gotten a bit cooler, but the air had become still, and Fargo heard the chickens clucking in their sleep. The wagon bounced along a little rutted track through the cornfield and down toward the creek. There were some scraggly trees growing in the marshy ground, a few box elders and cottonwoods. A hoot owl called out from one of the higher branches.

The digging was as easy as Fargo had figured, and they were able to dig deep without too much trouble. Between the moon and a lantern that hung from a limb, they had enough light to work by. When the bodies were covered over, Conner suggested that they should mark the graves some way.

�It seems like the respectful thing to do,� he said.

�I don�t have any respect for these varmints,� Molly said.

�I�ll tell you what worries me,� Wesley said, �and it�s not grave markers. It�s whether Pete Murray�s gonna let his boy lie in an unmarked grave on some sodbuster�s farm.�

�What choice does he have?� Talley asked. �Besides, when you�re dead, you�re dead. Where you�re lying doesn�t matter.�

�It might matter to Murray,� Wesley said.

�Too bad, then,� Molly said. �He�s buried already. And that�s another good reason not to put any markers up. No need to let Murray know where he is. If he knew, he might come after him.�

�Might come anyway,� Wesley said. �Might be better if finding him was easy.�

Molly threw the shovel she�d used into the wagon. It bounced off the bed and clattered against the side.

�If Murray comes,� she said, �Fargo can take care of him. Isn�t that right, Fargo.�

�I don�t even know that I�ll be around,� Fargo said.

�Oh, you�ll be here, all right,� Molly said, as if she knew something he didn�t. �And if you need any help and these �men� won�t side with you, you just let me know. You can count on me.�

�That�s nice to know,� Fargo said, and they all got in the wagon and rode back to the barn.

4

After everyone had finally gone home, Fargo went back to the Watkins house. He had slept in the spare room the previous night, but he didn�t want to disturb anyone now. He could sleep just as well in the barn or outside. He�d spent many a night in less pleasant circumstances.

But there was lantern light shining through a window in the house, and Fargo was curious. He thought that Abby and her father might be talking about Jed�s funeral, so he decided to join them.

Fargo went inside the house and heard talking from the kitchen. Fargo walked to the room and looked through the door. Lem hadn�t gone to bed after all. He was sitting there not far from the table where Jed�s body lay covered with a sheet, and there were two other men with him. Fargo recognized them, having met them before the dance. They were Cass Ellis and Bob Tabor, two of Lem�s friends. Ellis was holding a bottle of whiskey, and it was evident from their red faces that they�d been passing it around.

�Come on in, Fargo,� Lem said. �We�re just sitting up with the body. You want a drink?�

�Might as well,� Fargo said.

Ellis extended his arm, and Fargo took the bottle. He took a swallow, and tears came to his eyes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed the bottle back to Ellis.

�A little raw, ain�t it?� Ellis said. �But it�s not so bad once you get used to it.�

Fargo nodded and looked at the sheet-covered body on the table. He knew that sitting up was the custom in some parts of the country. He didn�t know the reason for it, unless there were places where you had to keep the animals away. There were no animals likely to get into the Watkins� kitchen, so maybe it was just a matter of respect.

�We washed him while you were gone,� Lem said. �Dressed him nice and put wet soda cloths on his face and hands. They�ll keep his color looking natural. Couldn�t do much with that wound, though.�

Fargo thought about the wound. He wanted to take another look at it, so he walked to the table and lifted the sheet. Jed�s head, what was left of it, was supported on a stained pillow. There was another cloth over Jed�s face. Fargo lifted that one off, too.

It appeared to Fargo that the bullet had entered the back of Jed�s head and pretty much removed it, though Jed�s face was hardly altered. Fargo replaced the cloth and lowered the sheet.

�Gonna bury him tomorrow,� Tabor said. He had pale blue eyes and a fringe of white hair around his bald head. �Cass here will make him a good strong coffin in the morning, and we�ll bury him in the churchyard in the afternoon. Put him in a real grave, six foot long, six foot deep and four foot wide, not like the ones you dug down in the river bottom.�

Fargo didn�t think Tabor really knew what kind of graves had been dug for the outlaws, but he was right. Nobody had paid much attention to doing it right. The graves were deep enough to keep animals off the bodies, and that was about all.

�Jed was a fine fella,� Ellis said, flexing the fingers of his big hands. �We�ll put him facin� the east, all right and proper, the way it should be. Him and Abby would�ve made a fine couple, Lem. You�d have had some good-lookin� grandchildren, for certain and sure.�

Lem didn�t reply. Instead he reached out his hand, and Ellis passed him the bottle.

�How�s Abby taking it?� Fargo asked.

Lem drank from the bottle. When he could talk again, he said, �About as well as you could expect. She�s trying to get some sleep, but I don�t know if she�ll manage it. You might as well have a try, too. We�ll stay here all night, but there�s no need for you to do it.�

Fargo had thought of offering, but he was glad to be relieved of the responsibility. He�d liked and respected Jed, but now that his friend was dead, he didn�t see the need in losing sleep over the matter. He�d do what he could to see that Jed�s killer was brought to justice, however. He owed him that much.

�I think I�ll go on to bed, then,� Fargo said. �Abby asked me earlier if I�d stay around for a few days and help out around the place, and I might be doing that.�

�That�s mighty kind of you,� Lem said. �We could use some help around here, now that Jed�s gone.�

�She�s not worried so much about help as she is about what the Murray gang might do.�

�They�ve killed Jed,� Tabor said. �What else could they want around here?�

�More revenge,� Fargo told him. �It looks like somebody killed Paul Murray tonight.�

�Shit,� Ellis said.

�That seems to be pretty much the general opinion,� Fargo said.

�Murray�ll come after his boy,� Tabor said. �He won�t want him lying buried in some marsh with no marker. What�re you gonna do, Lem?�

�Bury Jed,� Lem said. �Then we�ll see.�

Murray�ll burn your house and barn,� Ellis said. �Kill you if he gets the chance.�

�We�ll just have to see that he doesn�t get the chance,� Fargo said. �That�s one reason I�m staying around.�

�What�s the other reason?� Lem asked.

�To find out who killed Jed.�

�Hell, we all know who did it. It was Murray�s gang.�

�I�m not so sure about that,� Fargo said.

5

Fargo came to, sputtering. Someone was pouring water on his face, nearly drowning him. The Trailsman sat up coughing. When he�d cleared the water out of his mouth, he said, �That�s enough dammit.�

He wiped water from his eyes and looked up at Lem, who was holding a crockery jar.

�I thought at first you were dead,� Lem said. �But then I could see you were breathing. You�re just grazed.�

Now that consciousness was returning, Fargo�s head felt like it had been split open with an ax. He put his fingers to the left side of it, and they came away sticky with blood.

�Some son of a bitch shot you,� Lem said. �Probably thought you were dead same as I did, or else he�d have finished the job. You�re lucky he didn�t.�

Fargo didn�t feel lucky. He managed to stand up, but he had to put out a hand and grab Lem�s shoulder to steady himself.

�Where�s Abby?� he asked.

�Gone,� Lem said. �Those goddamned Murrays took her.�

Fargo�s head throbbed. He looked at the barn. It wasn�t burning, and he realized that he�d been tricked. The gang had fired shots at the house and thrown in a couple of torches to get his attention. When he�d come out of the house, he�d been fooled by the men at the barn into thinking they were the ones who�d be trouble. But the trouble had been behind him. The Murrays didn�t want to burn Lem�s barn. Peter Murray hadn�t lost a barn; he�d lost a son. So he�d taken Lem�s daughter in return.

�Is she alive?� Fargo said.

�She�s alive, for now. She might wish she wasn�t. If I hadn�t been half drunk, maybe I could have stopped them. Abby�s not the only one missing.�

�Ellis and Tabor?�

�Hell, those two are all right. Still trying to wake up. They weren�t any more help to Abby than I was. No more help to Jed, either. That�s who else is missing, Fargo. They came in and took Jed�s body. What are we going to do about it?�

Fargo wasn�t sure how he�d become the man with the answers, and his head hurt too much for him to think. He touched his wound again.

�You come on in the house, and we�ll put something on that,� Lem said, taking Fargo�s elbow. �Then we�ll figure out what to do.�

Fargo let himself be led inside, but he was afraid they were wasting valuable time. If Abby was alive, there was no telling what Murray might do to her. There was no need to worry about Jed. They couldn�t do anything to him that would matter to anyone now, least of all Jed.

Lem took the Trailsman into the kitchen. Jed�s body was gone from the table. In the flickering lantern light, Fargo saw that an empty whiskey bottle lay on the floor not far away. Ellis and Tabor sat in their chairs and looked up woozily. Tabor rubbed his bald head and groaned as if his head might be throbbing as much as Fargo�s.

�Don�t mind those two,� Lem said, rummanging around in the wood box. He raised up with another bottle of whiskey, about half full. He held it to the lantern light and shook it slightly, as if to appraise its contents. �Sure hate to waste good whiskey, but you need this more than we do. Come on over here.�

Fargo walked over, and Lem uncorked the bottle with his teeth. With his free hand, he tilted Fargo�s head at an angle and then poured whiskey on the wound. It stung like hell, and Fargo bit his lip. It was all he could do to stand still. Whiskey ran into his eyes, but he hardly felt it because of the other pain.

�Just hang on there for a minute,� Lem said, and went out of the room.

On his way he handed the whiskey bottle to Tabor, who took a quick drink. He shook his head like an angry dog and passed the bottle on to Ellis, who just held it and looked at it.

When Lem came back, he wrapped a piece of clean cloth around Fargo�s head and tied it in back.

�That ought to take care of you,� he said. �You�re might damn lucky. And your head must be hard as an oak root.�

�So I�ve been told before,� Fargo said.

His head was pounding a little less now, and he became more aware of things. The first thing he realized was that he didn�t have his Colt any longer.

�It�s lying out there where you fell,� Lem said when he saw Fargo reach to the empty holster. �I should have brought it in.�

�I�ll get it,� Fargo said. �What about my horse?�

Fargo�s big Ovaro stallion was in a little corral out behind the barn, along with Lem�s mules, Jed�s horse, and a couple of cows.

�Still where it was, as far as I know. Have you decided what we�re going to do?�

Fargo hadn�t answered that question the first time Lem asked it, and he wasn�t sure he could this time, so he asked a question of his own instead.

�Which way did Murray go?�

�Off down toward the creek. Tore through my corn with those horses of his and probably ruined half of it. I don�t care about the damned corn, though. We�ve got to do something for Abby.�

Fargo didn�t think the we included Tabor and Ellis, neither of whom looked capable of walking, much less facing the Murrays. They�d had considerably more to drink than Lem, and they still hadn�t said a word. Tabor sat looking at the floor. Ellis held the whiskey bottle and looked like he wanted another drink, but couldn�t bring himself to take it.

�I have an idea what Murray might be up to,� Fargo said. �I�ll go have a look. You and your friends had better stay here.�

�You won�t be a match for that gang if they catch you.�

Fargo knew that, but he didn�t think having Lem and the others along would be any advantage. In fact, he was pretty sure they would be a hindrance.

�I�ll try not to get caught,� he said.

He started out of the kitchen. Tabor and Ellis watched him wordlessly.

�I�ll get your gun and hat,� Lem said, and followed him outside.

6

As soon as the Murray gang was out of sight, Fargo came out of the trees at a run. He went to the grave and began digging with his hands, throwing dirt and talking loud in the hope that Abby could somehow hear him.

He knew that Abby had landed underneath Jed�s body and that at least some air would have been trapped around her. The dirt was loose enough to trap a little more air, and the grave had not been dug deep the first time. Fargo was sure Murray�s men hadn�t deepened it, which meant that Abby was only a couple of feet under the soil. If Fargo was lucky�if Abby was lucky�he would reach her in time.

When he came to Jed, Fargo raked dirt aside even faster.

�Hang on a little longer, Abby,� he said. �I�m nearly there.�

He located Jed�s back. Abby, being much shorter, would be right there.

�Don�t talk,� Fargo said, though he�d heard nothing from Abby. �Save your breath.�

He cleared away more and more dirt, and soon he had Jed uncovered completely. Fargo straddled the grave, bent down, and grabbed Jed�s belt. He braced his legs and pulled.

Jed and Abby came up out of the ground slowly, sinking back a little bit every time they rose, like a bad tooth being pulled from a jaw. Fargo�s face reddened with strain, and his head began to throb steadily. After he had pulled them out a short distance, he could feel Abby helping him as she pushed with her legs.

�Glad to know you�re alive,� he said in response to her exertions. �I�ll have you out in a second now.�

He stumbled back, falling as they popped out of the earth. He heard Abby spluttering and spitting dirt. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out a bowie knife and cut the rope that bound her to Jed. Then he rolled Jed�s body to the side.

Abby sat up, shaking dirt from her hair, brushing away from her face, still spitting. When she was finally able to talk, she said, �I thought I was going to die there.�

�You didn�t, though,� Fargo said.

�How did you know where I was?�

�I saw them bury you.�

Abby looked at him. Her cotton gown was filthy, her face was smeared with dirt, and her hair was matted with it.

�You saw them?�

�Yes. There wasn�t anything I could do to stop them. There were too many of them.�

�You bastard!� she said, leaning toward him, beating him with her tiny fists. �You let them bury me, you bastard!�

Fargo let her pound him. She was too small to hurt him unless she hit his wound, and there wasn�t much chance of that.

After a while she was exhausted, and she collapsed against him.

�They told me you were dead,� she said. �Angel told me that she�d killed you. She said that no one would come for me, that no one would ever find me.�

�I found you,� Fargo said. �I figured they�d come here, so I got here as soon as I could. I just didn�t know what they�d do to you.�

�I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to lie there forever rotting away with Jed tied to me.

�It didn�t happen,� Fargo said.

She pulled away from him and looked at him more closely.

�What happened to your head?�

�That�s where Angel shot me. But she didn�t finish the job. She must have a soft heart.�

Abby almost managed a smile. She said, �She might have a soft spot or two, but her heart�s not one of them.�

Fargo thought about the way Angel�s breasts had felt when he�d encountered her in the barn earlier.

�I guess not,� he said. �I�d better take you home now.�

He stood up and helped her to her feet. �They�ll be back,� she said. �The Murrays, I mean. They won�t let it go at this, not when they find out that I�m still alive. You know that, don�t you?�

Fargo said he knew. He told her to wait there while he went for his horse.

When he got back, she was standing by Jed�s body.

�It wasn�t enough for them to kill Jed,� she said. �The way they talked when they brought me here, that didn�t count for a thing. The only thing they cared about was that Paul Murray was dead.�

Fargo bent down and took hold of Jed�s body, grabbing it under the armpits from behind and pulling upright.

�They didn�t care about Jed at all,� Abby said, not looking directly at either Fargo or the body. �They thought his death didn�t mean a thing.�

�Families are important,� Fargo said as he heaved Jed�s body across the broad rear of the Ovaro behind the saddle.

�What about me and Jed?� Abby said. �If you care about your own family, you should care about other people�s families.�

Fargo knew that revenge didn�t work that way, but he didn�t try to explain things to her.

�It�s a shame about the way they treated Jed,� Abby said. �And Paul Murray, too. You ought to be allowed a little dignity when you�re dead.�

Fargo looked at Jed�s body as it hung slack across the back of the horse. As far as Fargo had ever been able to tell, there wasn�t a whole lot of dignity in death, and nothing Abby thought was going to change that. The way to look at it was that the things that had happened to Jed�s body didn�t matter to him in the least, any more than what had happened to Paul Murray�s body mattered to Paul. When you were dead, if you felt anything at all, which Fargo doubted, you sure as hell wouldn�t be worried about what was happening to a body you no longer had any use for. Or that was the way it had always seemed to Fargo.

But that wasn�t anything he wanted to talk about with anybody, not then, so he put his foot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn, and pulled himself atop the Ovaro. He reached down and offered his hand to Abby. She took hold of it, and he pulled her up in front of him.

�Let�s get you back to the house,� he said.

7

Everybody who didn�t have a horse piled into wagons and buckboards, and lit out for Molly�s farm.

Molly was in the lead, riding a bay that was almost a match for Fargo�s Ovaro. The Trailsman didn�t try to overtake her, however. She deserved at least a few minutes alone when she reached whatever was going to be left of her farm. Fargo didn�t think there would be much.

And he was right. When he got there, not long after Molly, the farmhouse was nothing but a chimney, a heap of smoking ashes, and a few smoldering boards that hadn�t fallen over yet. Red spots glowed in the boards, and there was still some smoke wafting around. The air was thick with the smell of it.

Dead birds lay scattered all around the chicken yard, blown to pieces, blood all over the white feathers as if the birds had been used for target practice by Murray�s men, which was probably close to the truth.

There had been a flower bed in front of the house, and the Murrays had ridden their horses through it destroying all the plants, leaving nothing standing, which was also pretty much true of the cornfield. They�d probably ridden through that while the house was burning, having themselves a high old time.

For some reason the barn, which was smaller than the one at Lem�s, hadn�t been burned. But there were two dead mules lying not far from it, both of them shot through one eye, their legs sticking out stiffly.

Molly was standing beside her horse when Fargo rode up. Her eyes were dry, and her face was drawn into hard lines.

�Those son of a bitch Murrays did this,� she said.

�Why?� Fargo asked. �What did you do to them?�

�You don�t have to do anything to them. They�d burn a house just for the meanness of it. But what I did was help bury Paul last night. They�ll do something to everybody who had a hand in it, sooner or later.�

Fargo thought over what she�d just said. There was something about it that bothered him.

�How will they know who helped?� he asked.

Molly turned slowly and looked up at him. Her eyes were hard and dark.

�You�ve asked a lot of questions today, Fargo, but that�s the best one of all. How the hell did they know?�

She was going to say more, but by then some of the others on horseback were beginning to arrive, and Molly turned back to the rubble that had been her house. Maybe there were other reasons why the Murrays had it in for Molly. None of them had been there when Paul was buried. Someone could have been watching, but Fargo didn�t think that was the case. He would have known.

Fargo caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and took a glance over toward the barn. The door was open, but Fargo didn�t think the Murrays would have left anything alive inside.

�Get on your horse,� Fargo told Molly. �Don�t say anything. Just get out of here. Do it now.�

She looked at him as if she didn�t have any intention of leaving, but the urgency of his tone must have convinced her. She mounted up and did what he said as he went around telling the others who had arrived the same thing.

He wasn�t sure he�d get away with it, and he didn�t. Before he�d managed to get everyone started away, the first shot came from the barn.

Tom Talley was hit and fell off his horse. The gunshot helped people who had lingered figure out why Fargo was warning them, and they started riding away, yelling at those in the slower wagons and buggies to turn around.

By that time there were more shots coming from the barn, and seven or eight of the Murray gang came riding out from behind it, pistols firing.

Fargo had his Colt out, and he returned their fire. Farmers didn�t generally take weapons to funerals, which of course the Murrays had counted on, and Fargo figured he was pretty much on his own. The odds weren�t exactly fair.

The Murrays wouldn�t care about that in the least, unless it was to be glad of it. They�d ride Fargo down and go right on after the others, killing as many as they could.

Or that�s what they�d do unless Fargo could do something to stop them. Stopping them was a good idea, except he didn�t have any idea how to stop that many men.

Of course one of them was a woman. Angel Murray was one of the riders charging at Fargo. She was beside her father, a wild grin of exhilaration on her face, and she was firing a pistol just like the rest. A bullet buzzed by Fargo�s ear. Another one tugged at his shirt.

There was only one thing he could do. He wasn�t sure it would work. In fact, he was almost certain it wouldn�t. But he didn�t have a lot of choice, so he did it.

He shot Angel Murray.

She fell from her horse and hit the ground hard. Fargo was running straight toward her before the other gang members even knew she was shot. They must have thought he was crazy, charging them like someone who believed he had them outnumbered instead of waiting for them to ride right over him.

They were so surprised that they couldn�t shoot straight. Their bullets went far over his head, and he managed to shoot two more of them out of the saddle before he reached the spot where Angel was lying on the ground.

The others he�d shot were dead, but Angel was still alive, which was part of Fargo�s admittedly shaky plan. There was a dark stain on the shoulder of her shirt where the bullet had struck her. Her hat had come off, and her black hair was spread out around her head.

Fargo reached down for her, grabbed hold of her good arm, and jerked her roughly to her feet. She screamed in pain, but Fargo didn�t much care. In fact, he was glad she�d screamed. It let her father know that she was still alive.

As soon as she was upright, Fargo twisted her good arm behind her back. He stuck the barrel of his pistol right into the tender skin under her chin, pushing her head up so far that she was looking at the sky. The pistol barrel was hot. It burned her, and she yelled again, but not as loud as before.

The gang had given up on their pursuit of the farmers and turned back. The men in the barn came out, pistols at the ready.

Between the two groups, Fargo stood supporting Angel, with his pistol tight under her chin.

Peter Murray was getting close, so Fargo said, �That�s far enough, Murray. Tell your men to keep their distance, or I pull the trigger.�

Murray stopped, and although he gave no signal, so did all the others.

�You must be the one they call Fargo,� Murray said, leaning forward casually in the saddle as if they were just two friends who�d met on the trail and were having a little talk.

Murray had a black beard shot through with white, and his hair, almost as long as his daughter�s, hung below his hat. His eyes were as black as the ashes of Molly�s house, but shinier.

�Well?� Murray said when Fargo didn�t answer. �Is that your name or not?�

�It�s my name,� Fargo said. �Not that it matters. What matters is that if you want your daughter to stay alive, you need to get your men together and ride away from here. And not in the direction the farmers went.�

�That�s an interesting proposition. And what�ll you do if I don�t?�

�Your daughter�s nothing to me,� Fargo said. �I�ll pull the trigger, and you�ll get to see the top of her head come off.�

Murray waved the pistol he was holding loosely in his right hand.

�What if I just shoot you instead?� he asked.

�You could do that,� Fargo said. �But you�d still see the top of her head come off. You ought to know that. I have my finger on the trigger, and if you shoot me, there�s no way in hell I won�t pull it. Even if you kill me, I�ll pull it.�

Murray sat easy on his horse and looked over Fargo�s head at the men who�d come from the barn. He nodded at them. They holstered their pistols and went to get their horses.

�Supposing I let you live,� Murray said. �What then?�

�Your daughter lives, too.�

�You mean you�ll let her go, don�t you? You live, I get my daughter back.�

Fargo gave him a tight grin.

�No, Murray, that�s not the way it works. I don�t trust you any more than I�d trust a diamondback rattler. As soon as I let her go, you�d gun me down where I stand. So you�re not getting her back.�

�If I�m not getting her back, then just what did you have in mind?�

�She goes with me. I see to it that her wound gets taken care of. When she�s ready, she comes back to you.�

Angel didn�t seem to think much of the idea. She tried to pull herself out of Fargo�s grasp, but he pushed her arm a little higher and kept the pistol barrel punched into her chin.

�She�s got spirit, Fargo,� Murray said. �But you�re the one with the pistol.�

�I guess that means you�re going to take the deal.�

�You don�t trust me,� Murray said. �But I�m supposed to trust you, is that what you�re telling me?�

�That�s about the size of it,� Fargo said.

�Well, to hell with that, you son of a bitch. I�d lay odds you�re the one killed my son last night, and today you�ve shot my daughter. And now you want me to trust you?�

�To tell you the truth, I don�t give a damn whether you trust me or not. That doesn�t have anything to do with it. We�re talking about your daughter�s life here, Murray. I shot her, but she�s alive. That�s more than I can say for the others I shot.�

The two men lay not far from where Fargo stood. Neither of them had moved since hitting the ground, and they weren�t likely to move ever again.

�If you don�t let your daughter go with me,� Fargo said, �she�ll wind up as dead as they are. I don�t see that you have much choice.�

Angel spoke for the first time. �Kill the son of a bitch.�

�You heard her Murray. Go ahead. Maybe it�s worth a try. It�s either that or ride away. Your choice.�

Murray sat and thought it over. For all the anxiety that showed on his face, he might have been considering whether to wear a black shirt or a blue one.

�Suppose I go along with you,� he said after a couple of long minutes had gone by. �How long do you keep her?�

�I told you. Until she�s ready to ride away.�

�That won�t be long,� Angel said. �You bastard.�

Murray went on as if she hadn�t spoken.

�And you�ll just let her ride away?�

�You have my word on that.�

�I don�t know what your word�s worth, Fargo, but it seems like I�m going to find out.�

�Just make up your mind,� Fargo said. �This pistol�s getting heavy. My finger might slip.�

�All right,� Murray said. �I guess you have me over a barrel. But I have to warn you about something.�

�What�s that?� Fargo asked.

�If anything happens to Angel, I�m going to come after you and kill you. There won�t be anything to stop me. And while I�m at it, I�ll burn every house and barn and field within fifty miles. You have my word on that. And my word�s good.�

�I believe you,� Fargo said, but Murray wasn�t listening. He nodded at his men, and they rode past Fargo, joining the men who waited at the barn.

�You son of a bitch,� Angel said. �Let go of my arm.�

�Not yet,� Fargo said. �I don�t trust your father enough to do that.�

�He�s not going to do anything. Let go of me.�

Murray and his men rode away without a backward glance. When Fargo judged they were out of firing range, he let go of Angel�s arm, and she promptly fainted dead away. Which made it a lot easier for Fargo to throw her on a horse and take her away from there.

8

Fargo had to sleep in the barn that night. Angel was using the bed he�d had in the house, and Molly was staying in the kitchen.

�I�ve slept on harder beds than that table before,� she�d said, and nobody mentioned that Jed had been laid out there only the previous evening. Fargo didn�t think it would have bothered Molly even if anyone had brought it up.

The barn smelled of hay and manure, and no one would ever have guessed that a dance had been held there so recently. Fargo didn�t mind the smell. He made himself a bed in the loft, laying his blanket over a pile of straw that he gathered up. He�d slept in worse places before.

After he got settled in, he lay back and thought about all that had happened since last night�s dance. There were a lot of little things that bothered him about all of it, but he hadn�t quite sorted it all out as yet. He was sure, however, that there was more going on with Murray and his gang than met the eye. Maybe he could have a little talk with Angel about it. Fargo chuckled at the thought. He might as well have a little talk with one of Molly�s dead mules, for all Angel would tell him.

He drifted off to sleep, but, asleep or not, he was always on the alert. When the barn door creaked open, he came awake instantly.

His hand went to his pistol, which was right beside him in its holster. He pulled it out and waited. For a few seconds he heard nothing more, but then something scuffed a ladder rung below him. He thumbed back the hammer of the pistol.

It was dark inside the barn. Only the faintest moonlight filtered in through the cracks in the boards, but Fargo�s eyes were used to the dark by that time, and in a few seconds he saw the dark outline of a head rise above the floor of the loft.

He let the hammer down quietly and said, �Is that you, Molly?�

�Yes.� She climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and stepped into the loft. �How did you know?�

�I didn�t until just now.� Fargo slipped the pistol back into its holster. �You almost got yourself shot.�

�That would have been too bad. But I didn�t want to make too much noise getting here. I didn�t want anybody to know I came. There�s something we need to talk about.�

Fargo sat up and said, �What�s that?�

Molly walked the few paces to where he was and sat on the hay beside him.

�Talley�s funeral,� she said when she was settled.

�What about it?� Fargo asked.

�You know what happened when we buried Jed. Don�t you think Murray might try the same thing again?�

Fargo hadn�t thought about that, but now that she�d brought it up, it didn�t seem very likely to him.

�He knows we�re onto that trick,� Fargo said. �He�d expect us to have somebody waiting at Talley�s house. Besides, he might not even know Talley�s dead.�

�He knows. He knows everything that goes on around here. He probably even knew about the little stash of money I had in my house.�

�You didn�t mention any money.�

�What good would it do to mention it? It�s either burned up or Murray�s got his dirty hands on it. It�s gone, either way.�

�If Murray took it, how did he know you had it?�

�The same way he knows everything else. Anyway, he might have burned the house, but you can bet he took everything that was worth taking before he set a torch to it.�

�Does Talley have anything that�s worth taking?�

�I don�t know. But Murray probably does.�

Fargo thought about that for a minute and said, �Talley wasn�t married, was he?�

�No. Not too many women would have anything to do with him because of the way he looked. People put a lot of stock in looks, in case you haven�t noticed. But then you wouldn�t.�

�Why wouldn�t I?�

�Because big, good-looking galoots like you never think about things like that. You probably have women flocking around you like flies to a honey pot.�

�It�s not quite that bad,� Fargo said, feeling a little uncomfortable. �But let�s get back to Talley. If he wasn�t married, who�s looking out for his house tonight?�

�Nobody, probably. He didn�t have any kin around here. They�re all back east somewhere. He�s laid out at Rip Johnson�s place, and Rip and some of the others are sitting up with the body.�

The two men that Fargo had killed didn�t have anybody sitting up with them. Alf Wesley and some of the others had buried them with the others who�d been killed at the dance. At the rate Murray was losing men, he was going to have to find himself some new help before long, which wouldn�t make him feel any kindlier toward Fargo.

�If there�s nobody at Talley�s place,� Fargo said, �why would Murray wait until the funeral to go there?�

Molly sat up straighter beside him.

�I hadn�t thought about that,� she said. �Hell, Murray�s probably over there right now. Maybe we could catch him.� She stood up. �Come on, Fargo, let�s go. We can�t just let him take everything Talley had and then burn his place like he burned mine.�

Fargo wasn�t sure Murray would do anything of the kind.

�We have Angel,� he reminded Molly. �Murray might not want to take the risk of doing something that would make us decide to go back on our bargain.�

�What risk? If there�s nobody there, who�s to say Murray�s to blame for anything that happens? Without any proof of what he�d done, you�d never go back on your word. Get up, Fargo. We can�t let Murray get away with it.�

Fargo stood up and brushed a little straw off his clothes. He didn�t think Murray was going to get away with anything, and if he was, there was always the chance that he�d already done it. But Molly was insistent, and Fargo didn�t have anything against a little midnight ride now that he was fully awake anyway.

�All right,� he said. �Let�s go see if there�s any trouble going on.�

�This time, I�ll have a gun with me,� Molly said, and started down the ladder. She poked her head above the level of the loft and added, �Or two guns.�

9

�Goddammit,� Molly said as she tumbled off the bed. �Get dressed Fargo.�

Fargo was already pulling on his shirt. He said, �How far away do you think those shots were?�

�Sound carries a long way out here, but I�d say at Rip�s. They�re after him instead of after Tom�s stuff. We should�ve guessed.�

�Why?� Fargo asked, pulling on his boots.

�Because everybody there at Rip�s will be half drunk by now. All the men drink too much when they�re sitting up with somebody, maybe because they�re celebrating that it isn�t them on the table. Murray knows all about that. I knew he wouldn�t let us kill two of his men and do nothing about it. We have to get over there before it�s too late.�

They got their horses out of the barn and started off for Johnson�s farm at a gallop. When they got there, Fargo didn�t see any sign of Murray.

It was quiet for a few seconds, and Molly said, �What�s going on? Is it over?�

�Just a lull,� Fargo told her, and almost as soon as he said it, more shots were fired.

Fargo saw flashes from Johnson�s cornfield as the Murray gang fired on the house. Now and then there would be an answering shot from the house, but it didn�t seem to Fargo that there was a lot of resistance being put up.

The lamps were still on inside, and Fargo said, �They should have doused those lights. Every time somebody gets close to one, he�s going to get shot.�

�At least Murray hasn�t burned the place down yet.�

That surprised Fargo a little, considering that there�d been plenty of time, and Johnson wasn�t doing much fighting back.

�What are we going to do, Fargo?� Molly asked.

That question seemed to be asked a lot lately. Fargo said, �We can get behind Murray, but we�ll have to be careful not to hit anybody in the house when the shooting starts.�

�You don�t have to worry about me,� Molly said, pulling a shotgun from a leather case tied to her saddle. �This thing won�t shoot that far, but it�ll tear apart anybody who gets close enough.�

�You don�t want to get too close to that Murray bunch.�

�I�m not worried about them. Once they see this gun, they�ll keep their distance.�

�We�ll leave the horses here,� Fargo said, sliding off the Ovaro.

He went quietly along the edge of the cornfield, with Molly right behind him. When he judged that they were far enough behind Murray and his men, he entered the tall green stalks and started down a row, trying not to make any noise. The breeze was already rustling the corn, and Fargo didn�t think there was too much danger that he�d be heard. He was accustomed to moving silently in cover, but he didn�t know about Molly.

He looked back to see her only a few steps behind him. She had been so quiet that he hadn�t heard her himself, which was quite a compliment to her stalking skill. He turned back and followed the row until he figured they were right behind Murray�s gang. He motioned Molly to him and whispered in her ear.

�When I give the signal, you cut loose with that shotgun. Let�s hope they run the other way.�

Fargo drew his Colt. He couldn�t see anyone, but he heard movement ten or twelve rows in front of him. And then someone started shooting toward the house again.

Fargo nodded to Molly and started firing his Colt. He didn�t like firing blind, but he was shooting low to avoid the house. It didn�t matter whether he hit any of Murray�s men or not, as long as they got to moving.

And they did. When the gang realized that they were caught in a crossfire, the men all started running for their horses, bolting through and over the corn, crushing some of the stalks to the ground and trampling them. Molly pulled her pistol and shot at the retreating figures, but Fargo headed for the house. It was pretty much a waste of bullets to shoot at someone running away from you, especially when something, even something flimsy like stalks of corn, was in the way.

Arriving at the house, Fargo saw a body on the porch. It wasn�t Johnson. It was a woman. Johnson�s wife, probably. Fargo didn�t remember having met her at the dance or the funeral, but he couldn�t think of anyone else it was likely to be.

�This is Skye Fargo,� he called out. �And Molly Doyle is with me. I�m coming inside.�

Molly walked up beside him and said, �I�m coming in, too. We�ve chased those damn Murrays for you, Rip.�

It was only then that she saw the body on the porch.

�Damn. It�s Sarah Johnson. And look there.� Molly pointed to the rifle that Sarah had dropped when she fell. �She always did have more guts than Rip, by a long sight. But you�d think the son of a bitch would have kept her in the house.�

�I know I�m to blame,� Rip Johnson said, coming to stand in the doorway. �God knows, I do. I told her not to run out and shoot at them, but she wouldn�t listen to me.�

His words were slurred, and he slouched against the door frame as if he couldn�t stand up without a little help. Another man�s head was visible just over his shoulder. The man looked to Fargo to be in even worse shape than Rip.

�You�re drunk,� Molly told Rip. �You�re too drunk to fight, and you had to let your wife do it for you. I ought to shoot you down like the sorry dog you are, Rip Johnson.�

�Go ahead,� Rip said, tears springing to his eyes. �I know I deserve it. I�m no good without Sarah. You might as well shoot me and bury me with her.�

�Shooting�s too good for you,� Molly told him. �And don�t feel so damn sorry for yourself. It�s not manly. Who else is in there with you?�

Tears ran down Johnson�s cheeks. �I . . . I�m not sure.�

�It�s me,� said the man behind him. �I�m here.�

�Is that you, Rufe Tolliver?�

�That�s right, Molly. I don�t feel so good. I think my head�s gonna fall off.�

�You drink enough of that skull-bustin� whiskey, and it will,� Molly said. �You�ll look mighty damn funny without it, too. Anybody else in there?�

�Frank and Alf are in the kitchen. I think they�re dead.�

�We�d better see about them, Fargo. You go ahead and do it. I�ll see what I can do for Sarah.�

There wasn�t anything she could do, and Fargo knew it, but he went on inside, pushing past the still weeping Johnson and the confused Tolliver, who shied away from him as if he thought Fargo might be going to hit him. Fargo would have if he�d thought it would do the man any good, but it wouldn�t.

In the kitchen Tom Talley lay covered on the table, just as Jed had been. There were going to be a hell of a lot of funerals before all the fighting was over, Fargo thought, at least if what had happened so far was any indication.

Alf Wesley and Frank Conner also lay in the kitchen, but they were on the floor rather than the table. Fargo looked them over. There wasn�t a mark on either of them. They were dead, true, but only dead drunk. He toed Conner with his boot. Conner stirred, turned over, and started to snore. Fargo went back outside.

Johnson and Tolliver sat on the porch. Johnson had his head in his hands. Tolliver stared vacantly out across the cornfield. Molly and Sarah were gone.

�Where�s Molly?� Fargo asked.

�She took Sarah in,� Johnson said without removing his head from his hands. �She wouldn�t let me touch her.�

Fargo didn�t blame her. He said, �You got too drunk, Johnson. You let everybody else get even drunker. You should have thought about what might happen. And you shouldn�t have let a woman do your fighting for you.�

�We fought,� Tolliver said. �We did as best we could.�

Fargo went over, pulled Tolliver�s pistol from the holster, and gave it a look.

�You fired two cartridges. That�s not much of a fight. What about you, Johnson?�

Johnson raised his head and rubbed the back of his hand across his face, leaving a light streak of dirt.

It�s none of your damn business what I did, Fargo. You just keep your hands away from my pistol.�

�I don�t have to look at it to know there weren�t many shots fired from this house. It�s a wonder Murray didn�t kill all of you and burn it to the ground. He would have, too, if Molly and I hadn�t come when we did. You�re a lucky man, Johnson.�

�How can you say that when my wife�s dead? You don�t know a thing about it.�

�Go have another drink,� Fargo said. �Maybe it�ll make you feel better.� He left the two men sitting there and went to look for Molly.

10

�It�s no wonder I went to sleep,� Abby said when Fargo got her to wake up. �I didn�t get much sleep at all.�

She said it somewhat accusingly, and Fargo was willing to share the blame for her failure to stay awake even though he wasn�t the one who�d paid a visit to her bedroom. And he didn�t think it would be a good idea to remind her that he hadn�t had much sleep that night, either. For that matter, he knew damn good and well that he wasn�t going to tell her he�d had hardly any sleep at all since then. Come to think of it, he could have used a couple of hours on his blanket up in the hayloft, but he knew he wasn�t going to get them.

�I don�t blame you for what happened,� Fargo said. �How long have you been asleep?�

�It couldn�t have been long. And Angel must have waited until I was sleeping hard, because she couldn�t have taken the gun out of my hand otherwise. Why?�

�Because we have to find her. If she gets back to Murray, he�ll probably kill every farmer around here.�

�Oh,� Abby said. �And it will be my fault.�

�It�s not your fault. Anyway, she�s hurt. She shouldn�t be able to get very far. She�ll be too weak from that gunshot wound. You stay here. I�ll go after her.�

Abby�s mouth was set in a hard line. She opened it to say, �Not without me, you won�t.�

Fargo could tell she was determined, and he didn�t try to stop her from following him. He went out to the barn to see if Abby�s horse was missing, but it was there. Angel probably hadn�t been able to lift the saddle with her wounded shoulder. He looked around the barn to see if Angel had hidden somewhere in a stall or the loft, but there was no indication that she�d even been there. Fargo went back outside, with Abby at his heels.

The sun was coming up, reddening the eastern sky over a low cloud bank and giving Fargo just enough light to see the ground, which was too hard to take any tracks. He did, however, notice some light dew that had been disturbed where someone had walked toward the cornfield. It was the only place of concealment around other than the barn.

�I�m going in there to look for her,� Fargo said. �You wait here.�

�No,� Abby said. �I feel responsible. I�m going with you.�

�If we both get shot, who�s going for help? You stay here until I call for you or until something happens and I need you.�

Abby didn�t like it, but she nodded. Fargo walked into the corn. The sun made crazy dark shadows on the ground, but at first it was easy enough to see where Angel had passed by. Although the ground hadn�t been plowed recently, it was soft enough for Angel to have left a light impression on it. Fargo followed her tracks, being careful to keep an eye out for her. He didn�t think she could have gotten too far, and he thought she might be waiting for him. And she had Abby�s pistol.

After going about halfway through the field, Fargo saw that Angel�s tracks were much fainter, almost disappearing completely. He wondered why, and then realized that she must have been even weaker than he�d thought. After the excitement of escaping, she�d tired quickly, and now she was probably just ahead of him.

But she wasn�t. Fargo looked all around; he couldn�t find her. It took him a minute or two to locate more tracks, and then he knew he�d been tricked. Angel had slipped over to another row, turned around, and gone the other way. She�d passed him by and was headed back to the house.

Fargo didn�t know why she was going there, but he knew it couldn�t be for any good reason. Good, that is, from Fargo�s point of view. He turned back and started to run, not minding that he was brushing against the cornstalks and making as much noise as a buffalo herd.

When he pushed aside the last green stalks and emerged from the field, Angel was there, all right. She was standing behind Abby, holding the pistol against the base of the smaller woman�s skull.

When she saw Fargo, Angel said, �I�m glad it�s you who came back. I knew I couldn�t get back to my pa, but I thought I might get back at you some other way. I was willing to wait for however long it took until somebody showed up, but you came quicker than I even hoped.�

Fargo had never liked to be tricked, but he had to admit that Angel had gotten the better of him. He said, �Now that you�ve fooled me, what are you going to do about it?�

�I�m going to kill this dainty little trollop,� Angel said. �It�s too bad her father�s not here to see it, but you�re just as good. You�re the one that held me like this in front of my own father. Now you can feel a little of what he did. And this whore can feel what I felt.�

�I�m not a whore,� Abby said. �And I�m not afraid of you, either.�

�Well, you should be. Because I�m just about to shoot the back of your head off.�

�You don�t want to do that, Angel,� Fargo said. �It wouldn�t be smart.�

�I don�t give much of a damn whether it�s smart or not. In a way she�s the one who got Paul killed, and it�s only right that she�s the one to pay for it.�

That was just like the Murrays, Fargo thought, always looking for someone to blame.

�If Paul had stayed away from here, he�d still be alive,� Fargo said. �Who�s fault is it that he came?�

�Don�t start that kind of talk with me,� Angel said. �I�m going to shoot this bitch.�

�If you do, I�ll kill you,� Fargo said.

�What do I care? You�re just using me against my father, and we Murrays don�t like to be used.�

�You talk too much,� Abby said. �And you�re standing too close.�

She raised her foot and stomped down on Angel�s instep.

Angel yelped. Abby whirled around and smacked her in the face with a tiny fist. Angel stumbled back a step, and Abby struck at her again. She missed. Angel brought up the pistol, but she didn�t get a chance to pull the trigger. Abby slammed headfirst into her midsection, and both women hit the ground, Abby on top. Angel struck at Abby�s head with the pistol, but she didn�t seem to do much damage. Abby raised her fist and clubbed her in the wounded shoulder. Angel let out a yell to rival the ones Fargo had heard from Molly not too long ago under entirely different circumstances.

By the time the scream had died, Fargo was beside the two struggling women. Angel was trying to head-butt Abby, but the smaller woman had pulled back and was preparing to hit Angel�s shoulder again.

Fargo bent over and grabbed Abby�s wrist with one hand to restrain her while he wrested the pistol from Angel with his other hand.

�That�s enough,� he said to Abby. �I think you�ve got her whipped.�

�The hell she does,� Angel said. �You get away from her and let us fight. I�ll tear her head off.�

Fargo didn�t think so. Abby had proved to be a lot less delicate than Molly seemed to think she was. Abby might be small, but she was a fighter.

Fargo kept his grip on her wrist and eased her up off Angel. Abby couldn�t resist one last kick at Angel�s ribs as Fargo pulled her away.

�Bitch,� Angel said. She struggled to sit up. �Let her go, Fargo. I�m going to kill her.�

�Looks to me like you�re the one getting killed,� Fargo said. �You should have shot her back in the house when you had the chance.�

�I wanted someone to see and suffer the way my father did when you put the gun to my head. You bastard. This is all your fault.�

Fargo wondered why people like Angel, and her father for that matter, always had to blame someone else for their troubles. They never seemed to think that any blame should light on them, no matter what they�d done.

�You might as well get up,� Fargo said. �You seem to be feeling pretty feisty.�

�That�s what you think,� Angel said, and then she fainted.

�That�s the second time she�s done that,� Fargo said. �I don�t think she�s feeling too well after all.�

�That�s just fine with me,� Abby said. �I don�t care if she dies. I hope she does. And you can let go of my arm. I�m not going to do anything else to her.�

�I think you�ve done enough, already. Let�s get her back in the house.�

�Why don�t we just leave her here? Let her lie there and die. I hate her.�

�She doesn�t think too much of you, either, judging by those names she called you. But it wouldn�t be smart to let her die. I made a promise to Murray, and I�m going to keep it.�

�Even after what she did?�

�What she did doesn�t matter. She didn�t make any promises.�

�You sound a lot like Jed sometimes,� Abby said. �I didn�t understand him, either.�

She turned and started back to the house. Then she remembered her pistol and came back for it. When she picked it up, she said, �You can bring her in if you want to, but don�t expect me to help you.�

�You�ll have to watch her,� Fargo said.

�If you want her watched, you do it. I don�t think she�s going anywhere.�

Fargo picked up Angel and carried her back to the house. She didn�t stir until he put her on the bed, and even then she didn�t awaken. Abby was right. Angel wasn�t going anywhere, not for a while.

Fargo sat down in the chair across from the bed. He removed his Colt from the holster and put it under his leg just in case Angel was faking. She wouldn�t be able to get to the pistol without waking him up. When he was as comfortable as he could get, he closed his eyes, and in less than a minute he was asleep.

11

Two days passed without any real excitement, which was all right with Fargo. He needed the rest.

Sarah Johnson was buried quietly and without incident, and on the very afternoon of her burial, Rip showed up at Lem�s house, asking for Lem.

Fargo didn�t hear what the two of them talked about, but Abby told him later that Rip had asked her father for permission to come courting her.

�Can you believe the gall of that man?� she said. �His wife hasn�t been in the grave more than an hour. She�s hardly cold in the ground, and he shows up here asking to come around to badger me.�

�He didn�t say he wanted to badger you, did he?� Fargo said.

�It doesn�t matter what he said. It comes down to the same thing.�

Fargo knew it wasn�t funny, but he couldn�t help grinning.

�What did Lem tell him?�

�He told him that it was indecent to talk about any such of a thing until his wife had been dead for at least six months.�

�How did Rip take it?�

�You�d think he�d have been ashamed, but not him. You couldn�t shame him if you tried. He said that out here a man needs a wife and that he couldn�t afford to wait. He and his wife never had any family, and he wanted to have some children to help out on the farm.� Abby shuddered. �I don�t want to think about him touching me, much less doing anything else.�

�Maybe in six months he�ll have found himself somebody else.�

�He better have. He�s never getting his hands on me, I can tell him that.�

The way she said it, and the fierce look on her face, convinced Fargo that she meant every word of it.

12

Her horse�s reins were tied to a tree limb, and Angel stood there, her hands on her hips. She was wearing only her shirt, and it hung down just far enough to cover the part of her body that Fargo automatically looked for. Her legs were slim and white, tapering to trim ankles. The sunlight fell through the leaves and dappled her dark hair.

�I thought maybe I�d lost you,� she said.

�That�s not as easy to do as you think,� Fargo told her, halting the Ovaro. �Aren�t you afraid you might get the grippe, dressed like that?�

Angel gave him a languorous smile and said, �You mean undressed, don�t you?�

�I guess I do.�

�The weather�s still warm. I don�t think I�ll get sick. Why don�t you get down off that horse so we can talk. I don�t like looking up at you. It hurts my neck.�

Fargo slid off the Ovaro, led it over to a nearby tree, and looped the reins over a branch.

�I knew you�d follow me,� Angel said. �So I thought I�d come somewhere we could have a little privacy.�

Fargo looked around. They were in a little clearing in the trees, with the only real opening being the narrow cut that he�d just ridden out of. He could hear some birds in the trees, and a squirrel chattered away somewhere nearby. But there was nothing else to hear, not even the sluggish flow of the creek. Fargo didn�t think there was much danger that anyone would find them there.

�You picked a good spot,� he said. �What did you have in mind?�

For an answer Angel started to unbutton the shirt. She took her time about it, letting Fargo wonder a while about what he was going to see, but eventually she got it done. The shirt hung loosely on her, but she�d been careful not to let it gape open. Fargo could still see no more than he�d seen when he first arrived.

Angel smiled. �You remember what I said when you asked me if I was ready?�

Fargo nodded. �You said you were always ready.�

�That�s right, and now you�re about to find out just how ready I am.�

She took both hands and opened the shirt, holding it wide.

Fargo saw that her breasts were even bigger than he�d thought, standing high and proud, with their erect nipples pointing straight at him like bullets. Her waist was small enough for him to circle with his two hands and emphasized the curve of her hips. The crisp hair on her mound was as black as the hair on her head, and it was thickly tangled. The puckered red wound in her shoulder didn�t detract from her beauty at all.

�The question is,� Angel said, �are you ready, Fargo?�

�I�m as ready as anybody ever was,� Fargo said, which was the truth if he�d ever told it.

Angel let the shirt fall to the ground and walked to where a nearby tree shaded a pile of leaves that Fargo thought she must have gathered there while waiting for him to catch up with her. She lay down on the leaves, careful not to hurt her shoulder, and let his eyes take her in. As he watched, she spread her legs and let her fingers play with her dense pubic hair for a moment before allowing her middle finger to slip into the enticing crack between her legs. She let the finger remain motionless for a second or two before rubbing herself lightly. Her hips wiggled, her lips parted, and she moaned deep in her throat, letting her finger slip inside herself.

�What the hell are you waiting for, Fargo?� she said huskily after a moment had passed. �I don�t want to have to do this all by myself.�

Fargo didn�t want her to have to, but it occurred to him that she might have led him into some kind of trap. He didn�t see how that could be, though. She didn�t have a gun unless she�d found one hidden in the trees, which seemed highly doubtful. And there was no one else within miles as far as Fargo could tell. Just the birds and squirrel, and not even the squirrel was silent. Fargo shucked his clothes off as quickly as he could and joined her on the leaves.

She immediately moved her hand from herself to his erection, which was already standing at attention like a soldier on parade. Her fingers were wet and slick from the caresses she�d given herself. She slid them up and down the length of Fargo�s iron-hard shaft.

�You could use that for a club if you got in a brawl,� Angel said.

�It might not be as much like a club if I were in a fight,� Fargo said. �It needs a little encouragement.�

�Why don�t I give it some, then?�

Angel turned over on him and took him in her mouth. Its soft wet heat engulfed him, and she teased the tip of his pole with her tongue before taking him deeper and deeper. He looked at her through hooded eyes and saw that she had her hand busy between her legs.

�I can take care of that job for you,� he said, taking her hips in his hands and positioning her so that he could get to her dripping honey pot with his mouth and tongue. He let his tongue glide over her, and she shuddered in pleasure. He kept it up for a while and then quickly slipped his tongue into her. As soon as he did it, she jerked as if she�d been shot.

�Ohhhhhhhhhh!� she said. �My sweet Jesus! Ohhhhhhhhh!�

She collapsed on him and lay there for a while, breathing heavily. Finally she rose and got off him, lying back on the leaves.

�I wasn�t expecting that,� Angel said. �Good Lord!�

Fargo didn�t say anything.

�It didn�t do you much good did it?� Angel said. She reached for him with her hand and found him as hard as ever. �When you say you�re ready, you really do mean it. I�m sorry it�s all over.�

�What do you mean?�

�Well, I�ve, you know . . . finished. I didn�t mean for it to happen like that, but it�s too late to do anything about it now.�

She hadn�t had as much experience as Fargo thought she had. Either that, or the men she�d known hadn�t had much stamina. The fact that she�d finished only once was hardly a drawback to what was about to happen. Fargo was a little disappointed in Jed for just a second, but then he forgot all about him.

�You haven�t finished,� Fargo said. �You just think you have. I�ll show you.�

He started by kissing her breasts, then flicking the nipples with his tongue before taking each one into his mouth in its turn. To what seemed like Angel�s surprise, her nipples grew hot and hard again, and her breasts engorged. Fargo let his own fingers get to work doing what Angel�s had been doing earlier. She moaned and sighed, and her hips wiggled on the bed of leaves that rustled beneath her.

Fargo rose up and parted her legs, positioning himself between them. His rampant erection jutted out in front of him like a spear, and Angel took it in both hands.

�You were right, Fargo. It�s not too late. This is what I need, and I need it now. Give it to me!�

Fargo needed no further invitation. Being careful of her shoulder, he buried himself in her right up to the limit.

�Ahhhhhhh!� Angel said, her head twisting to the side, her mouth wide and wanton.

Fargo held her pinned there for a while before starting to move. When he slid out, he went back in almost immediately. It was as if Angel had somehow pulled him back inside, and his strokes became faster and faster, with Angel thrashing beneath him as if she were having some kind of seizure.

Fargo was just at the point of explosion when Angel suddenly became still. He thought for an instant that he might have hurt her shoulder, but it wasn�t that. It was only the calm before the tornado struck. She bucked under him like an unbroken pony. She bounced him, jounced him, and nearly threw him off. And then she climaxed.

�Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhh!�

Soon Fargo joined her. He felt entirely drained, and Angel couldn�t say a thing. They lay side by side and waited until their hearts stopped trying to beat through their chests.

After several minutes, Angel said, �It�s too bad you�re the kind of man you are, Fargo.�

�What kind of man is that?�

�The same kind that Jed was. Well, you�re certainly different in one way. But I�m not talking about that. He was stiff-necked and honest, and it got him killed.�

�There�s nothing wrong with being honest,� Fargo said. �It�s the way most people are.�

�Not my people. We haven�t been that way for a long time. Not since my mother was killed.�

�What happened to her?�

�It happened a few years ago. My pa was a farmer, just like all these people around here. He probably would have stayed one if it hadn�t been for the free-staters and the slavery crowd.�

Fargo wondered what that had to do with anything, but he figured if he waited, Angel would tell him.

�My pa was like these farmers you�re staying with,� she went on. �He didn�t care one way or the other about slavery or what happened to other people. He just wanted to be left alone to get his crops in and take care of me and Paul and our mother.�

She didn�t look at Fargo when she mentioned Paul�s name. She was probably thinking about how he had died.

�One day, my mother went to town. Alice. Her name was Alice, but I never called her that. There was a fight there that day between the free-staters and some of the people who favored slavery. She got caught in the middle, for no reason. She was just there. But she got killed anyway.�

�I�m sorry about that,� Fargo said, meaning it. �But I don�t see what it has to do with your father�s war against the farmers here. Looks like his quarrel is with somebody else.�

�That�s not the way he sees it. He thinks people should have done something about my mother, but nobody ever did. She was just in the way, they said, and it wasn�t anybody�s fault that she died. That was the way people looked at it. Pa tried to do something, but nobody listened to him. He came home one night and told me and Paul that he was going to make people sorry they�d ever messed with the Murray family. He was going to get revenge on the ones responsible, and on everybody else besides. Nobody was ever going to cross the Murrays again. The world belonged to the strong and the violent, he said, and he was going to be as strong and as violent as anybody in it.�

�That�s not going to do a lot of good for your mother,� Fargo said.

�No, it�s not.� Angel sat up and then got to her feet. �It seems to do a lot for Pa, though, and Paul understood. Now Paul�s gone, and somebody�s going to have to pay for that.�

Fargo stood beside her. He thought he might as well try to explain things to her one more time, for all the good it would do.

�It was as much your father�s fault that Paul died as it was anybody�s,� he said. �If you hadn�t been out to get revenge on Jed, both of them would be alive, and quite a few others would, too. Sarah Johnson. Tom Talley. Just to name a couple of them.�

�You don�t understand,� Angel said. She began getting into her clothes. �There�s more to it than I�ve told you.�

Fargo started to get dressed as well. When he was finished, he said, �Why don�t you tell me what else there is about what�s going on around here.�

�That�s not for me to do. I�m not even sure I know exactly what it is. Pa doesn�t tell me everything, the way he did Paul. You�ve been fun, Fargo, but I have to keep some of my secrets, even though you�ve treated me better than any man ever has, even Jed. You know a few tricks he didn�t, and I appreciate it.�

�I�d say the pleasure was all mine,� Fargo told her, �but you and I both know better.�

Angel blushed and then smiled. �I guess we do, at that. I�m sorry it has to stop, but we won�t be seeing each other again. Not like this.�

She went over to her horse and untied the reins from the limb. Then she managed to get in the saddle again without Fargo�s help.

�I�m going to ask you a favor, Fargo. I know you�re a man of your word, so I�m going to ask you not to follow me. I think you owe me that.�

�All right,� Fargo said. �I won�t follow you.�

�Thank you for that. I don�t want to see you get killed, not this soon after we, well, you know.�

�That�s mighty nice of you,� Fargo said. �I don�t want to get killed at all.�

�Then mind your own business and maybe you won�t,� Angel said, and rode off through the trees.

Fargo watched her go, and when she was out of sight, he got up on the Ovaro and went back to the Watkins farm. He thought about Angel and what she had said all the way.

13

The Murray gang struck at Alf Wesley�s farm that night around midnight. Wesley was asleep when the shooting started, but he must have run outside and tried to put a stop to it.

He didn�t have a chance. He was shot to ribbons before he got off his front porch.

The Murrays stayed around after he was dead, shooting and hollering and generally having themselves a fine old time. It was as if they were trying to attract attention to what they�d done, and if attention was what they wanted, they got it. Wesley farm was close enough to Lem�s for the noise to awaken Fargo, and it didn�t take him long to get the Ovaro saddled and go to see what the trouble was.

Lem wanted to go with him, but Fargo told him to stay at home.

�You can�t leave Abby here alone,� the Trailsman said. �And we don�t want her to go with us. You need to be here to put up some kind of fight if they come this way. Make plenty of noise if anybody shows up here, and I�ll come back.�

Lem said that he�d try to make as much noise as he could, but Fargo could see that he wasn�t happy about staying.

�You think they�ve killed Alf?� Lem asked.

�That�s what I�m going to find out,� Fargo said.

14

Fargo stuck his knife back in his boot, and he and Molly limped to the back wall of the room, where they started feeling their way in opposite directions: Fargo to the right and Molly to the left. Judging from the glow that Fargo could see across from them, the room was a fairly large one, though that didn�t mean there was another exit or that it would be large enough for them to squeeze through even if it existed. And if there was an exit from the room, it might not lead them out of the cave. It could just as easily lead them deeper underground and have no outlet. Still, Fargo figured the risk was worth it. The outcome of facing Murray without a weapon other than a knife was pretty much a certainty. At least this way there was a chance, no matter how small it was.

�I found something here,� Molly said after Fargo had gone only a few feet. �It�s not very big, though.�

�It might not be the only way out,� Fargo said. �Keep looking.�

They looked, but neither of them found any other way out. They met at the opening Molly had located, and Fargo tried to gauge its size by running his hand around the edges.

�I can see why Murray didn�t bother to put a guard on us,� he said. �He didn�t think we could get out through here even if we did get loose.�

�Was he right?� Molly asked. �Usually I don�t mind being big, but there are times when I wish I was as small as Abby. This is one of them.�

Fargo judged that the opening, which started almost at the level of the floor, was at most a couple of feet high and not much wider. They could snake along through it if it didn�t get any narrower. Maybe it would widen out. Maybe not. If it didn�t, they�d be stuck. But it was the best chance they had.

�I�ll go first,� he said. �If it gets too tight, you can back out.�

�Not if I�m stuck.�

�You won�t get stuck,� Fargo said with more confidence than he felt. �If I can make it through, so can you. Or you can stay here. That�s up to you.�

Fargo lay down on the floor and scooted into the opening. His shoulders cleared the sides by only a few inches, and it was even darker in there than where he�d just been. The absence of light was total. God only knew what he was getting into. Somebody had told him once that it was better to face the devil you knew than to take a chance of facing the devil you didn�t know. He�d always thought that was a pretty craven way of thinking, but right now he wasn�t so sure that it wasn�t good advice.

Too late to worry about that, though. He slithered along as best he could, keeping his head low so as not to hit it on the rock above him. He didn�t think he could help yelling if he did, since his head was still as sore as if he�d been scalped.

After a few minutes, he stopped moving and listened. He could hear Molly scraping along behind him. He didn�t say anything. He just moved on.

It wasn�t long before he lost all track of time. All he knew was that there was rock above him and rock below him and darkness all around him. It was like being buried alive. Now and then something like that happened to people, if you were to believe the stories that you heard around the campfire.

He could hear Molly�s breathing now. It was too fast, and too shallow. She was getting close to panicking, Fargo thought, and he didn�t much blame her. They were too far into the tunnel to go back.

The floor of the tunnel seemed to be sloping downward, and Fargo didn�t know if that was good or bad. Bad, he guessed. The way out seemed more likely to be up than down. On the other hand, there probably weren�t any bats down there on the lower levels. He kept moving forward, pulling himself with his elbows and pushing with his toes.

After another couple of minutes, he thought that something seemed different, and he raised up carefully. Sure enough, the roof of the tunnel was higher. He could get on his hands and knees and crawl. Better yet, if he slouched over, he could even sit up.

�We have a little more room,� he told Molly. �Time for a rest.�

Molly didn�t say anything. She was panting. She sounded like a dog after a long run.

�We�ll be fine,� Fargo said, not knowing if he was lying. He put out a hand and touched Molly�s arm. �We have some room to move around in now.�

�It�s . . . so dark. Can�t see . . . anything. We can�t . . . get out.�

She was right about not being able to see. Fargo could have held his hand an inch from his nose, and he wouldn�t have seen it at all. Molly wasn�t worried about the bats anymore, though, and that was good.

�We�ll get out,� Fargo said. �It�s no worse in here than having your eyes closed on a dark night.�

�It�s . . . worse.�

Fargo moved closer to Molly and put his arms around her. He didn�t talk. He just sat there and held her until her breathing returned to normal. It was eerie to have a woman in your arms and not be able to see her. It was almost like holding a ghost, but ghosts weren�t solid, or so Fargo had heard tell.

After a while Molly�s breathing slowed and then became normal again.

�If we do get out of here,� Molly said, �are you sure you don�t want to settle down and be a farmer? I think I can make a go of it on Tally�s place.�

Fargo grinned in the darkness. �I�m no farmer. And we aren�t out of here yet.�

�You said we�d get out. I�m almost starting to believe you.�

Fargo wished he believed it himself. He said, �We�d better start moving again. Try not to skin your hands and knees too bad.�

�When can we stand up?�

�Later,� Fargo said. �When we get out of this tunnel.�

It seemed like a long time. It seemed almost like forever. But finally they did come out of the tunnel. They practically fell out of it, in fact, which proved that Fargo had been right. They were going downward.

They found themselves in another room. Fargo stood up and breathed deeply. It was good to be out of the tunnel, though he still couldn�t see anything, and he stretched to loosen his cramped limbs.

�How big is this place?� Molly asked.

Fargo said that he didn�t know. He called out and tried to judge by the echo. The sound of his voice reverberated hollowly around them.

�Pretty big, I�d guess,� Molly said. �What do we do now?�

�Find a way out,� Fargo said. �Just like before.�

�I hope it�s not as small as the last way out. I don�t think I could take much more of that.�

�We�ll have to take what we find. Unless you want to go back.�

�It�s a good thing I can�t see you, Fargo. I�d hit you if I could.�

�I�ll try to stay out of your way. Let�s see if we can find a way out of here.�

They started working their way around the wall. The rocks were rough under Fargo�s hands and irritated the cuts from the knife. He ignored the stinging pain and felt carefully, looking for fissure, a wide gap, anything.

After a while he started to wonder if there was any opening at all. Or what if it was above his head? This room of the cave was huge. It was more than a room; it was a cavern, and the ceiling was quite high. There was plenty of room on the high walls above him for an exit that he could easily miss. He told himself not to worry. If they didn�t find anything, they could always go back the way they�d come. It would be difficult, but they knew it could be done. If they could locate the tunnel again.

Fargo was tired, and he was thirsty. The throbbing in his head had settled down to a steady ache, which was some improvement, but not much. He remembered a time when he�d been trapped underground in a mine in Virginia City. He�d gotten out of there, and he�d get out of the cave. No matter how bad things seemed, there was always a way.

He was still telling himself that when he heard a surprised scream from Molly.

The scream lasted for only a couple of seconds, and then it was abruptly cut off by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Fargo didn�t move. He didn�t know exactly what had happened, but he guessed that Molly had somehow fallen. She hadn�t fallen far, but Fargo had no way of knowing how badly she might have been hurt.

�Molly,� he said. �Can you hear me?�

There was no answer, and Fargo started moving back the way he had come, careful to keep a hand on the wall all the time. He moved faster than he should have, and he stumbled a couple of times, once almost falling himself. It wouldn�t do to have both of them unconscious, so he slowed down and tried to be more careful.

When he came to the tunnel they had entered from, he slowed down even more. He didn�t want to fall into the same hole that Molly had. He went on for a couple of yards and then stopped. The silence in the cavern was almost overwhelming. It seemed to close in around him and press on him like the darkness.

He called Molly�s name again. This time she answered.

�I�m all right, Fargo. Just had the wind knocked out of me.�

�Where are you?�

�How the hell should I know? I was moving along, and all of a sudden there wasn�t anything under my feet. So I fell and landed wherever it is that I am. The ground is different here, I can tell you that much. It�s sandy.�

That explained why she hadn�t been hurt any worse than she had. Fargo said, �I�m going to see if I can get to you. Wait for me.�

�Just where is it you think I�d go? Off to the nearest saloon for a drink?�

Fargo ignored that and moved very slowly in her direction, putting out his foot and feeling for the floor before every step. When he came to a spot where there was nothing under his leading foot but air, he stopped. He seemed to be standing on the verge of some kind of ledge, and he took a few seconds to consider what he could do next.

�Are you still down there?� he said after he�d thought things over.

�That�s right. I haven�t found the saloon yet.�

�Have you looked for a way back up?�

�Looked? Has that bump on your head made you loco, Fargo? I couldn�t look if I wanted to. No, that�s not right. I can look all I want to, but I can�t see a damn thing. Not unless you want to light a lantern for me.�

Molly was getting a little touchy, not that Fargo blamed her.

�I meant had you tried to feel for a way back up.�

�Yeah, I tried that. But there�s no handhold that I can find. The wall is too slick. You can either come down here or go back to Murray. Or keep looking for a way out.�

Fargo thought it over. He wasn�t going back to Murray, and he wasn�t going to leave Molly alone down there below, so it wasn�t as if he really had a choice.

�I�m coming down,� he said. �Move away from the wall.�

�You be careful. I don�t want you breaking a leg. I�m big, but not big enough to carry you out of this place.�

Fargo planned to be careful. He sat down and scooted forward until his legs were dangling over the ledge.

�How far down is it?� he asked.

�I�d tell you if I knew,� Molly said. �Not far, I guess, or I�d be a lot more addled than I am.�

�Here I come, then.�

Fargo pushed himself to the lip of the ledge and went sliding over. He�d done a lot of scary things in his time, but launching himself into pitch-black dark to fall who knew how far had to be one of the worst.

His feet hit the ground before he expected them to and sent a jolt all the way up his body. It nearly blew the top of his head off, but he didn�t have time to think about that as he tumbled forward. He stuck out his hands to catch himself and somersaulted onto his back. When he landed, he put both hands on top of his head as if to hold it on. Then he lay still for a couple of seconds.

�You all right, Fargo?� Molly asked.

�I�d say that depends on what you mean by �all right.� I�m alive, anyway.�

�You might be better off dead. This is a hell of a place.�

Fargo recalled his earlier notion about being in hell. �It�s not hot enough,� he said. �And if we were in hell, there�d at least be some light.�

�Fine. This place is worse than hell, then. Are you going to get us out of it or not? I�d just as soon not spend any more time here than we have to.�

Fargo sat up. His head didn�t hurt any more than it had before. It didn�t hurt any less, either.

He took his hands off his head and touched the ground. Molly had been right. It was more like coarse sand than rock, quite different from the floor of the cavern above them. He stood up. It took him a second or two to get his balance, and even then he felt a little bit unsteady.

�Does the ground slope?� he asked. �Or is it just me?�

�It slopes, all right,� Molly said. �I don�t know what that means, though. We�d better be more careful from here on out. The next fall might be a long one. There are a lot of caves down south of here, and some of them are supposed to have bottomless holes in them.�

�People say that about caves,� Fargo told her. �I don�t much believe it. How could there be a hole without a bottom?�

�Maybe there�s not, but I don�t want to be the one to find out if those stories are right or wrong.�

�We�ll be careful,� Fargo said.

He tried to decide whether to follow the wall or the slope of the ground. While he was thinking, he sniffed the air.

�Do you smell that?� he asked.

�I don�t smell anything. Is there a skunk in here? We aren�t around those bats, are we?�

�There aren�t any bats here. I smell water. Where are you?�

�Right over here. And I don�t smell any water.�

�Stay right where you are and keep talking. I�m coming over to you.�

Molly kept talking, mostly about bats, while Fargo made his way over to her. He took her hand and said, �Now, let�s go down this little slope. Slowly.�

�I hope you don�t think I�m about to make any fast moves. I might be big, but I�m not crazy.�

�Nobody think you�re crazy. Come on.�

Fargo tugged at her hand and shuffled his boots across the grainy floor, moving carefully down the slope, which went on for yard after yard. Finally Fargo stopped.

�Can you hear that?� he asked.

The slightest of noises broke the silence that hovered all around them. It was the trickle of water.

�You were right, Fargo,� Molly said. �There�s water here.�

�And I can use some of it.�

He pulled her hand again, and they went on toward the sound. After a few steps, Fargo�s boots sloshed in water. Fargo let go of Molly�s hand and knelt down, feeling around him. There was a shallow rivulet not more than two or three inches deep running through the sand. Cold water stung the cuts on his hands.

�There must be a spring down here,� he said, scooping water up into his hands.

�I can�t see what you�re doing, Fargo,� Molly said. �Are you going to drink any of that water? It might be poison.�

�And it might not. I don�t see how it could be, and I�m too thirsty not to give it a try. If I die, you can pass it up.�

�To hell with that. I�m as thirsty as you are.�

Fargo felt Molly kneel down beside him as he brought the water to his lips. It was cold and tasted as sweet as any water he�d ever drunk.

When he�d drunk his fill, he said, �Now, let�s get out of here.�

�How are we going to get out?� Molly said. �I don�t see any doors opening anywhere around here.�

�This water has to go somewhere,� Fargo told her. �We�ll follow it.�

�What if it just goes into a hole in the ground? What if it flows into some big underground lake? What if it just disappears under a wall?�

Fargo knew that any of those things was possible. But he said, �I think it must go out of here. Maybe it even goes to the river.�

�It�s just a trickle. I�m not even sure you can tell which way it�s moving.�

Fargo put his hand in the water and waited. It flowed slowly but definitely to his right.

�I can tell,� he said. He took Molly�s hand and stood up, bringing her along with him. �We�re going this way.�

It wasn�t easy to walk in a straight line in the total darkness. In fact, it would have been impossible if Fargo hadn�t kept right to the edge of the water, splashing his boot in it to be sure he didn�t stray.

They walked for a while and then had another drink and rested. Fargo could tell that Molly was tiring, but he was determined not to rest for long. He got back to his feet. He wanted to get out of the cave, if that was possible, and the sooner, the better. He gave Molly a tug, and they started walking again.

After they had been moving along for quite a while, Molly said, �Now I smell something. It stinks.�

Fargo smelled it, too, and he knew what it had to be.

�Bat shit,� he said.

�Bats? Oh, my sweet Jesus.�

�You should be glad we�re getting close to them,� Fargo said.

�They�ll get all over us. They�ll tangle in my hair. Why should I be glad?�

�Because the bats will have a way to get outside. If they can get out, we can get out.�

Molly thought that over for a minute. �I never thought I�d be glad to smell bat shit, but I guess I am.�

And then they walked head-on into a wall of rock.

15

They weren�t walking fast, so they weren�t hurt, though Fargo�s nose was a little flatter than it had been.

�That�s it,� Molly said when she�d recovered from the unexpected jolt. �The end of the line. We aren�t getting out of here, Fargo.�

�The water goes out, and we can smell the bats. We�re getting out.�

Fargo let go of Molly�s hand and bent down to kneel on the sand. There was a small opening at the base of the wall, though not large enough to slither through.

�The bats must be in another cave that�s connected to this one by this hole where the water goes out,� Fargo said. �They like a cave with water in it, and a high ceiling to catch the warm air. There must be another opening somewhere in this wall leading to the other cave. If there weren�t, the smell wouldn�t be so strong.�

�Look up,� Molly said, touching his shoulder. �Is that light up there?�

Fargo looked up. Thirty or forty feet above them there was a thin line of light, unless he was imagining it.

�We�d never be able to climb up there,� Molly said. �Not in the dark. Maybe not even if we could see.�

�If we can�t go over, we have to go under,� Fargo said.

He started scooping sand away from the bottom of the wall. Molly heard what he was doing and got down on her knees to help. Before long they had made an opening big enough to slide through. A faint light shone under the wall.

�You first,� Fargo said.

Molly didn�t wait for him to say it again. She flopped down on her belly and wormed beneath the wall. Fargo was right behind her, her feet practically in his face. When he stood up on the other side and brushed off the sand, he found himself in another cavern. He could almost make out the contours of this one because across from them there was a slit in the cave wall, no wider than three feet across. Light shone outside it, and looking at it hurt Fargo�s eyes.

Above them the bats stirred. It was as if a giant sigh had gone around the cavern. The smell of their droppings was almost overwhelming.

�Let�s get out of this smell,� Molly said. �I don�t want to be here when they wake up.�

�They won�t start flying out of here until dusk,� Fargo told her.

�I don�t care. I want out of here now.�

Molly started off across the floor of the cave and had gone eight or nine steps before her feet slipped out from under her on the slick guano. She landed on her rear and sat there until Fargo made his way to her.

�You have to be careful when you�re walking in shit,� he said.

�I appreciate the good advice. Now help me up from here.�

Fargo did as he was asked, and Molly stood up, holding onto his hand to steady herself. Clinging together, they went toward the light.

When they reached it, Molly shoved through, with Fargo right behind her. The rivulet ran out of the cave into a small pool that overflowed on down the side of the hill that they found themselves standing on. It was late afternoon, and there were clouds in the sky, but the hazy sun was almost blinding to them because they had been in the cave for more than twelve hours. They fell down on the grass and closed their eyes.

After a while Molly sat up and said, �I�m filthy. I�ve been crawling around in a cave all day, and I have bat shit all over me. I�m going into that pool.�

�With your clothes on?� Fargo asked.

�No. I plan to take them off and wash them out after I�ve bathed. I�ll trust you to be a gentleman and keep your eyes off me.�

�I�m glad you trust me that much,� Fargo said.

Molly started to take off her shirt, but she stopped and said, �You�re not being a gentleman.�

�That�s one thing I�ve never been accused of. Do you mind?�

Molly grinned and said that she didn�t. �But maybe I shouldn�t bathe. Murray must know we�re gone by now. You don�t think he�ll find us here, do you?�

Fargo didn�t see how it was possible. Murray probably didn�t even know about the connecting caves. He�d surely checked on his prisoners by now and discovered they were gone, but he probably thought they were just wandering around in the depths of the cave or trapped in the tunnel. Or maybe he was smarter than that. Maybe he�d search for them.

�I think we can take a quick bath, and then we�d better get ourselves out of sight.�

�What do you mean �we� can take a bath?�

�I think you know what I mean.�

Molly grinned again. �All right, then, come on.�

Molly stripped off her clothing and waded into the pool. Fargo removed his buckskins but paused long enough to admire the action of Molly�s ample but firm backside as she moved away from him into the water. It was the kind of sight he never got tired of. When she entered the water, she turned to face him, and Fargo went in after her.

The pool was only a couple of feet deep and the water was cold, but it felt good on Fargo�s skin as it washed off the grime and sludge. He ducked his head under the surface and came sputtering to the top, flinging his hair back out of his eyes. The pain in his head was easing, and the cuts on his hands no longer stung.

Molly was sitting nearby, watching him. She raised herself to float closer, and when she got beside him, she reached under the water and grasped a part of him that was standing at attention.

�I thought you might be in that condition,� she said. �Even after all that just happened to us, you�re still as stiff as a fence post.�

Fargo nodded and said, �It�s your fault. Looking at you got me that way.�

�Then I guess I�ll have to do something about it,� Molly said.

She turned to straddle him and sat on his rod, letting it slide right into her. Even in the water she was slick and ready for him. When she had settled herself on him, her large breasts flattened against his chest, the nipples poking into him like small hot stones.

�You have a lot of scars,� she said, putting her finger on one. �Where�d you get that?�

�I picked it up from a grizzly.�

�Does he have a scar, too?�

�Nope,� Fargo said. �He�s dead.�

�I�m not surprised,� Molly said, giving a little wiggle. �How are we going to do this?�

�I figure we�ll find a way,� Fargo said.

�I bet you�re right,� Molly said, and she pressed the palms of her hands on the tops of his shoulders, raising and lowering herself on him. Her body was buoyant in the water, and a couple of times she almost bounced too high, but Fargo held onto her hips so that she didn�t slip away.

It wasn�t long before she was churning the water into a froth. Her head fell back, and she opened her mouth. Fargo knew what was about to happen, but he couldn�t do a thing to stop it. He was about at his own limit, and when she started yelling, he shot into her, bucking up off the bottom of the pool with each volley.

�YeeeeeHaaaaaaw! YeeeeeHaaaaaw!� Molly cried, kicking out with her legs on either side of Fargo and sending little waves to the shore.

When she was finished, she collapsed against him, and they sat quietly for a minute or so.

�I hope Murray didn�t hear that,� Molly said.

Fargo hoped so, too. He figured Molly had frightened the wildlife for a couple of miles around.

�We�d better clean up and get out of here,� he said, and they did, washing out their clothes and putting them on wet. It was uncomfortable, but Fargo didn�t think it would be smart to hang around there much longer.

By the time they were dressed, it was dusk, and the bats started to come out of the cave. At first there were only a few of them, but within a couple of minutes there were so many that they formed a black cloud overhead. The humming of their wings filled the air as they flew away, shadowed against the darkening sky and showing no interest at all in Fargo and Molly.

�I told you they wouldn�t tangle in your hair,� Fargo said.

�That doesn�t mean I have to like them.� Molly shuddered. �Let�s get out of here.�

They started walking. Fargo looked back after they were well away from the pool, and bats were still flying out of the cave. There had been thousands of them in there, he thought.

Molly didn�t look back. She wanted to know where they were going.

�To get us some horses. Judging from what you told me, I figure it�s too far back to the farms to walk.�

�Yes, but I don�t know where we�re getting any horses.�

�From Murray. He might even have my horse there. I�d like to have him back.�

�How can you find the entrance to the cave we were in?�

�I can find it. You might say being able to do things like that is the business I�m in.�

�What business is that?�

Fargo explained a little bit about what being a Trailsman meant and how he�d spent most of his life guiding people from one place to another, finding trails others couldn�t, and getting out of places most people didn�t even go.

�Like that cave,� Molly said.

�Not like that. I�d just as soon never have to do anything like that again.�

�You sure have an instinct for it. I never thought we�d get out of there, but I�m glad I trusted you.�

Fargo didn�t say that there was an element of luck involved. If she wanted to believe he could find a trail even in darkness so black that you couldn�t see, then let her. Besides, he thought, there might even be some truth in it.

He had a lot less trouble finding the horses than he�d had finding a way out of the caverns, and it didn�t take as long. The horses were hobbled in a little grove of trees not far from the entrance to the cave where Murray and his men were hiding out. Among them was Fargo�s Ovaro.

Fargo and Molly crouched on top of the hill, and the cave was below them. Night had fallen, but the moon was coming up, making the landscape seem almost to be shining in bright daylight compared to the darkness of the cave. There was the glow of a fire from inside Murray�s hideout.

�Does he have a guard on the horses?� Molly whispered.

Fargo didn�t see anybody, but that didn�t mean there was no one there.

�Maybe so, maybe not. We�ll sit here awhile and watch.�

They made themselves as comfortable as they could and waited. The night was cool, and a breeze rippled the grass. There was no movement in the trees other than the horses and the leaves rustling on the trees. But Fargo waited awhile longer.

His caution paid off when a shadow finally separated itself from one of the trees and stood aside to urinate. Fargo could hear the splashing as the stream hit the tree trunk.

�He�ll move away from there,� Molly said.

�And when he does, I�ll get him,� Fargo said, slipping the knife out of his boot. �Wait here.�

He went silently down the hill and into the trees. The guard was just finishing his business, shaking off the last few drops, when Fargo came up behind him and put a forearm across his throat.

The man tried to cry out, but Fargo clamped down on him and then hit him in the temple with the hilt of the knife. The man went limp, and Fargo lowered him to the ground. He located the Ovaro and led it back up the hill.

�Can you ride bareback?� he asked Molly.

�What do you think?�

Fargo didn�t answer. He took hold of the Ovaro�s mane and swung himself up on its back. Then he reached a hand to Molly and pulled her up behind him.

�How long do you think it will take before Murray figures out we�ve gotten away?� she asked.

�He�ll know when his guard wakes up. That might be an hour or two. We�ll be long gone by then.�

�Well, by God, I�m glad to hear it,� Molly said.

16

Lem and Abby were happy and surprised to see Fargo and Molly again. Fargo told what had happened to them, leaving out the part about the bath.

Abby cooked some bacon and beans, and while Molly and Fargo ate, Lem filled them in on what had happened in their absence.

�We thought sure they�d killed the two of you,� Lem said. �They sure as hell killed Alf.�

�What about his house?� Fargo asked.

�It�s still standing. I figured they�d burn it, but you and Molly must�ve scared them off. When we found Molly�s horse, we went on over to Talley�s place, but it was still standing, too. Looks like Molly�s house and barn were the only places they burned. Murray must not like her a whole lot.�

�Could be that there�s another reason,� Fargo said.

�If there�s another reason, I�d like to know what it is,� Molly said.

Fargo chewed some beans and then said, �I haven�t quite got it all figured out yet. I had a lot of time to think while we were wandering around in the dark, and I have a few ideas. I talked to Angel, too, and she said something I didn�t quite understand.�

�When did you talk to her?� Abby asked, suspicion edging her voice. �She�s been gone a while now.�

Fargo didn�t think it would be wise to explain the circumstances under which he�d last talked to Angel, at least not to Abby. Judging by the grin on Molly�s face, Molly already had a pretty good idea.

�You�ll remember I spent some time watching Angel while she was staying here,� Fargo said. �She told me some things.�

�What things?� Lem said.

Fargo told them about the death of Murray�s wife and how Murray had come to blame the farmers instead of the people who�d actually done the killing.

�That�s just plain crazy,� Lem said. �But then we already knew Murray was crazy for revenge. You haven�t told us anything new, except one more of his reasons for going after us.�

�That�s not the whole story. Angel said that there was more to it.�

�Well?� Abby said. �Tell us what it was.�

�That�s just it. Angel wouldn�t tell me. She said she wasn�t even sure herself. Paul was the one their father trusted, probably because he wasn�t a woman.�

�A woman can keep a secret,� Molly said. �And a woman can be just as good in a fight as any man, especially the men around here. I didn�t see any of them coming to help Alf Wesley.�

�I wanted to,� Lem told her. �Fargo made me stay in case they came around here.�

�No offense,� Molly said. �I didn�t mean you, in particular. But the whole bunch of them is too scared to go after Murray.�

�Now that we know where he�s hiding out, we can change their minds,� Lem said. �First thing in the morning, I�ll ride around to all the neighbors and call a meeting. We can go after Murray in his hideout and finish him off.�

Fargo shoved back his plate. The beans and bacon had filled him, and Abby had boiled some coffee that was strong and hot, steaming in a thick mug. Fargo drank some of the coffee before he spoke.

�I wouldn�t count on him being there,� he said. �He�s not going to stay around, knowing that Molly and I got loose. He�ll have found himself another place by morning.�

�You�re right, I guess,� Lem said. �I wasn�t thinking straight.�

�You couldn�t have got that bunch of lollygaggers to go with you, anyway,� Molly said. �You and me and Fargo would have been about all.�

�I would have gone,� Abby said. �I can shoot as well as you can.�

Molly gave her a measuring look.

�I might not be as big as you, but I�m just as mean,� Abby told her.

Molly laughed. �You just might be, at that. But just the four of us wouldn�t stand a chance, even if we could flush Murray out of wherever it is he�s hiding now. We have to think of something better than that.�

�Maybe in the morning,� Lem said. �It�s mighty late for thinking.�

�Too late for you to go back to Talley�s place, too,� Fargo told Molly. �It wouldn�t do for you to be riding out alone, not with Murray still on the loose.�

�She can stay in the spare room,� Abby said, �and you . . .�

�Can stay in the barn,� Fargo said. �I knew that already.�

He didn�t really mind staying in the barn. In fact, he thought it was a good idea. You never knew, with two women like Molly and Abby in the house, what one of them might take it into her head to do. And if both of them had the same notion and showed up in his room, Fargo might find himself in a heap of trouble. Or some other kind of heap that would be more interesting, but maybe even more complicated. It was the kind of situation he preferred to avoid, so he went out to the barn without complaint. He spread his blanket on the hay and lay down, realizing only then how tired he was. He was asleep within seconds.

17

The next few days passed without any more incursions by Murray. Fargo figured he was looking for a new hideout, since Angel had told them where he�d stayed after leaving the cave. The drunken doctor had come out and removed the bullet from Angel�s shoulder, and she was healing again. Fargo and Lem tried to decide what to do about Murray.

�There aren�t that many places around here he could go,� Lem said. �If we could find out where he is, we�d go after him.�

�Who�s we,� Fargo wanted to know.

�I�ve talked to Cass Ellis and Bob Tabor. Both of them would throw in with us. And they think they could find some others. Murray shouldn�t have hung Frank from that scarecrow. That made people madder than anything he�s done so far.�

�What about Rip Johnson?� Fargo asked.

Rip had been by a couple of times already, trying to get Abby�s attention, hoping to make some time with her.

�Rip�s ready to ride anytime we say. He told me to let him know first thing, just as soon as we decide on a plan, so he could be ready. He and Frank were friends, just like he and Tom were. He�s lucky he wasn�t killed like them, and he knows it.�

Fargo thought about that and decided to ride over to Talley�s place, or Molly�s, since it was hers now by virtue of the bank and her own persistence.

He stopped in Angel�s room first. She was propped up on some pillows and smiled when he came in.

�I guess we�re even now, Fargo. I stuck up for you when Pa wanted to kill you, and you stuck up for me the other day. I was just about sure Pa was going to kill me.�

�He almost did. I need to know where he�s hiding out these days.�

Fargo had already asked that question more than once, and Angel kept putting him off. He wasn�t sure if she really didn�t know anything or if she was still protecting her father even though he�d shot her.

�I�d tell you if I knew. He could be back in the cave, though. That�s like something he�d do. He�d try to outsmart you, and if he believed you wouldn�t expect him to be there, he might head straight for it. It would be worth a try.�

Fargo had already considered that possibility. He didn�t think Murray would go back to the cave. It was too easy to get trapped in a cave if you didn�t know the way out, and Fargo didn�t think Murray would want to exit by the route Fargo had used. It was too uncomfortable, and it took too long. And Fargo would know where he�d be coming out.

�We could check the cave,� Fargo said, not really meaning it. �There�s something else that�s been bothering me.�

Angel tried to sit up a little straighter, hardly wincing at the pain she must have felt.

�What�s bothering you?� she asked.

There were a lot of things. Fargo had a whole list of them, but he didn�t want to go through them with Angel. So he told her one of them.

�Seems to me your father always knows what�s going on with the farmers. He knows when the funerals are, and he knows who�s going to be there. He knows whose house the bodies will be in, and he knows who�ll be sitting up with them. I don�t see how he does it.�

�I don�t know, either, but I see what you mean. If Paul were alive, he could tell you. Pa always let him in on the plans. He never told me anything. He let me ride with him, but that was only because I wouldn�t stay behind. You know something, Fargo?�

Fargo didn�t like guessing games, so he didn�t reply. Angel apparently didn�t expect him to, and she answered her own question.

�I should have left Pa long ago. I must have been crazy to stay with him when I saw what he was doing.�

�I�m not too clear on what he�s doing.� Fargo said. �You told me a while back that there was more to it than I knew, but you never explained what you meant by it.�

�That�s because I don�t know much more than you do. But Pa and Paul used to go off all the time to discuss their plans. That�s probably when they met with their spy.�

�How do you know there was a spy?�

�You said it yourself. Pa always knew everything. There had to be a spy. I thought you knew that. I just can�t tell you who it was because I was never there when they met.�

Fargo had figured out the spy part for himself. He even thought he knew who the spy was, which was why he was going to see Molly.

�You must have some idea about the plans,� he said.

He had a vague idea, himself, but he couldn�t quite make sense of all the ideas rattling around in his head.

�All I know is that Pa was upset with everybody when Ma was killed,� Angel said. �He hates the farmers, he hates the free-staters, he hates the slaveholders. Sometimes that�s all he can talk about. I don�t know how he thinks he can whip all of them, but for some reason he started with the farmers.�

Fargo knew why Murray had started with the farmers. It was the smart thing to do because he could whip them more easily than the other groups. If he had mixed it up with the others, the army would have gotten involved, and that would have been the end of things for Murray right there. Which was why Fargo couldn�t figure out how Murray could go beyond the farmers.

�He talks about the South a lot, too,� Angel said. �Sometimes I thought he might want to go there to live. But he doesn�t. He says that nobody can run him off and that he�s staying right here where he belongs.�

That was a new fact for Fargo to think about. He wasn�t sure that it meant anything, but maybe it fit somewhere with all the other things he was mulling over. He thought that he might be able to pull it all together when he talked to Molly.

�Where will you go?� Fargo asked Angel.

�I�ve been thinking about that. I�d like to stay here if the people would have me. I�m willing to work, and I can learn about farming. They might not want me, though. I�ve been fighting against them for a good while. I wouldn�t blame them if they hated me.�

�You should talk to Abby about it.�

�I don�t know what to say to her. It�s my fault that Jed was killed, and they were going to be married.�

�You said Jed got what he deserved.�

�I don�t feel that way now. He was right all along. If I�d listened to him, he�d be alive, but I thought I had to stick by my family. You can see where that got me.�

There wasn�t much Fargo could say to that. He said, �You might be surprised at how forgiving people can be if they know you�re sorry for what you did. I don�t think Abby will blame you for anything after she hears what you have to say. She�ll help you find a place around here.�

�That would be nice, but I don�t know if I can ask her. It�s not right, what I�ve done.�

�People change,� Fargo said, though in his experience the ones who did were few and far between. �You talk to Abby. You might find out she�s changed a little, too.�

Angel said she�d try, and Fargo left to pay his visit to Molly.

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.

19

Rip didn�t seem to know exactly what was going on. Which was just fine. Fargo didn�t want him to know.

�I didn�t think you�d show up here at this time of night,� Rip said.

He was standing on his front porch again, holding the lantern he�d lit while he was still in the house. His hair was tousled, and he didn�t look quite awake.

�I said morning,� Lem told him. �It�s past midnight, so it�s morning. You better get ready to go. We�ll help you.�

Cass and Bob were already off their horses and walking toward Rip, who was going to be trussed up and tossed across a saddle for his trip. As the two men reached him, Rip�s face changed. He seemed to know that something was wrong, and he turned back into his house.

Cass and Bob hesitated. They turned back and looked at Fargo as if to ask what to do next. In doing so, they gave Rip time to get to a gun.

The first shot came through the door and missed Cass by an inch or two. The second shot dropped Bob where he stood.

�Scatter,� Fargo said. �I�ll go around back.�

By the time Fargo got to the back of the house, the door was already opening. Fargo let Rip get outside. Then he said, �Put the pistol down, Rip. You�re not going anywhere.�

Rip held up the lantern so that the light spread out some more. Fargo was still outside the circle of radiance.

�We know all about you and Murray,� Fargo said.

�Then you�re going to kill me anyway,� Rip said.

�Nobody�s going to kill you. We�re just going to be sure you don�t warn anybody.�

�Bullshit,� Rip said.

He fired a shot at Fargo, missed, and started to run around the house. Fargo didn�t know where he was headed, but he knew he wasn�t going to let him get there. He shot him twice.

The first shot knocked Rip off his stride and sent him stumbling toward his house. The second shot jerked him sideways, and he stumbled into the wall. When he hit it, his arm swung around and the lantern shattered on the wood. Coal oil spread out and started burning. Rip slid down to the ground.

�Who told you, Fargo?� he said. �How�d you know? Angel?�

�Nobody told. I just figured it out.�

�Damn. Maybe you really are as smart as you think you are.�

Rip slumped over to the side until his head was touching the ground. The pistol he�d been holding limply in his hand slipped from his fingers.

The wall of the house above him was dry, and the fire was spreading fast. Fargo rode back around to the front of the house. Bob Tabor was standing up, and Abby was tying something around his midsection.

�How�s Bob?� Fargo asked of no one in particular.

Tabor answered for himself. �I�m just dandy. That bullet took a little fat off the side of my belly, but that�s all right. I could stand to lose it. Hurts a little, but I can still ride. What about Rip?�

�He won�t be doing any riding,� Fargo said. �And I don�t think we�ll be able to save his house.�

Everyone could see the flames now, and there was black smoke curling over the roof.

�Ain�t worth it, anyhow,� Cass said. �Funny, though. He was helping to run us off, and now it�s his house that�s going to burn.�

�Let it go,� Molly said. �It wasn�t worth a damn. Are we going to talk all night, or are we going after Murray?�

�You know the answer to that,� Lem said. �Let�s ride.�

Abby finished her bandaging, and Cass helped Tabor on his horse. When he was settled in the saddle, they rode away, leaving Rip�s house in flames behind them.

It was quiet in the woods near the Bigelow House. The only sounds came from the trees when a squirrel woke up for a moment of chattering or from the soft whispers of the little group gathered there to take on the Murray gang.

There wasn�t much of a moon, and the sky was cloudy, both of which made it hard to tell if there was more than one guard, or even if there was one. The house was quiet, and there was no movement anywhere near it. If there was a man on the porch, Fargo couldn�t see him, but there was a dark shadow by the wall that could have been a man.

�If you get caught, we�ll be in a mess,� Lem said. �I�d feel better about it if you didn�t have to cross all that open ground.�

�It�s the only way to get there,� Fargo said. �If there�s anybody on the porch, he�s likely to be asleep. That�s why we came at this time of the morning. Nobody�s going to be awake in there. They all think they�re as safe as if they were a thousand miles away.�

�Well, you better get going then. If they�re planning to set an ambush for us, they�ll be getting up soon enough.�

Fargo nodded and hefted the little keg of gunpowder that Molly had found in her barn. Talley had bought it to blast stumps with, but there weren�t many stumps to blast. That meant there was a little bit of gunpowder left over.

�You be careful, Fargo,� Molly said, leaning near his ear. �You don�t want to blow off any important parts of yourself.�

She nudged him with her elbow, and Fargo had to grin. He said, �Don�t worry about me. If that house doesn�t fall on me, I�ll be just fine.�

�You better get away long before it falls.�

�I�ll do my best. Just don�t let anybody shoot me if I come running back this way.�

Fargo waited until the moon was completely covered by clouds. Then he crouched as low as he could and set out toward the house. If somebody saw him, he was as good as dead, but he was counting on Murray to be lulled by the idea that the farmers were all waiting for morning to go to the cave on the river. He wouldn�t have any idea what they really had planned for him, so he wouldn�t have put out any extra guards.

Fargo judged it to be about a hundred yards to the house. The ground was rough, and when he was about halfway there, he stumbled. He had to straighten up quickly and run awkwardly forward for a few steps to regain his balance, holding the gunpowder out in front of him like some kind of prize pig. When he was balanced again, he squatted quickly and waited to see if anybody had spotted him from the Bigelow House. The moon stayed behind the clouds, the house sat as still and quiet as ever, and after a couple of seconds Fargo moved on.

When he reached the house, he went straight to the back, looking for a break in the skirting so that he could slip underneath. He found one quickly enough and slithered through the opening. The smell of musk and raw earth filled his nose, and he bit back a sneeze as he wormed his way along.

When he figured he�d gone about far enough, he set the keg down and started squirming back out, unspooling the fuse as he went. The fuse wasn�t as long as Fargo would have liked, but he thought it would do. He got almost back outside before it played out. He lit it and eased back out through the hole in the skirting.

As soon as he was out from under the house, he jumped up and started to run back toward the trees. He didn�t worry about concealment this time. He didn�t care who saw or heard him because by the time anybody tried to stop him, it was going to be too late for them to do much of anything.

Fargo was about twenty-five yards from the trees when the gunpowder went off with a muffled boom. Hearing the explosion, he hit the ground, slid forward a couple of feet, then swiveled around to see the results.

The house had already been leaning, and the blast finished it off. It exploded outward and upward. Boards flew through the air and landed all over, though none of them came very near to Fargo. What was left of the house toppled on over to the ground in a jagged pile.

By that time, Murray�s men were running in six or eight directions, having no idea what had just happened. They�d been asleep and the house had exploded around them. They might have thought it was the end of the world, or they might have thought the house had been struck by a cannonball. Or maybe they were just running and not thinking at all.

Whatever the case may have been, they certainly weren�t expecting the farmers to ride out of the trees and start shooting at them.

Most of Murray�s men were the kind to sleep with their weapons right at hand, so they were armed, and they had the presence of mind to drop down to the ground and start shooting back. A few others made a mad dash for their horses, maybe in the hope that they could get away before they were killed. A couple just stood there, looking around as if they were dazed, and maybe they were. Those were the first to be cut down by the farmers� fire.

Fargo looked for Murray, but he didn�t see him amid all the confusion. He did see Angel as she rode past him, looking neither to the right nor to the left. She was focused on someone, and Fargo knew it must be Murray. Scrambling to his feet, Fargo ran back into the trees to get his horse.

Within seconds he was aboard the Ovaro and riding in the direction Angel had gone. He rode right through the middle of the fighting and got a kaleidoscopic view of what was happening all around him.

To his left, Molly was off her horse and fighting hand to hand with two men, her hair wild as she smashed one of them to the ground with her right fist and grabbed the other around the neck with her free left hand. Abby was running toward the man that Molly was grappling with. She jumped on his back as Fargo passed on.

To the right, Lem was sitting on his horse and firing his pistol steadily. The flashes from its barrel were like red and orange streaks in the night. Tabor and Elliot were beside Lem, matching him shot for shot, and Murray�s men, though they were firing back, were the ones getting the worst of it.

Then Fargo was through the crowd and alone, with Angel racing ahead of him and Murray in front of her.

After only a few more seconds, Murray turned back toward the trees, and his dark figure was soon lost in them. It was one thing to ride at speed across open ground. It was something else to do it among trees. In fact, it was impossible, and Fargo knew that Murray must have swerved into them because he had something in mind, maybe some trap he could spring on Angel. Fargo urged the Ovaro to go faster, hoping to reach Angel before she did anything foolish.

He was too late. She rode into the trees after her father.

20

They got out of the trees and rose as fast as they could. Fargo was sure that Murray had left the trees, too, and that he was well ahead of them.

�Where do you think he�ll go first?� Angel said.

�Rip Johnson�s house is closest,� Fargo said. �He�ll find out that we�ve done that job for him already, so he�ll head for Lem�s.�

�We�ll never get there before he burns the place.�

�We might,� Fargo said. �It�s not as easy to burn a house as you think it is.�

�Rip�s place went up like a torch.�

�That�s because of the coal oil in the lantern. Murray doesn�t have a lantern.�

�How long do you think it�ll take him to find one?�

�Not long,� Fargo said.

21

It was a little after first daylight when Lem, Abby, and Molly came riding up. There was nothing left of Lem�s barn but a pile of ashes and blackened timbers. A smaller pile of charred debris remained not far away, but nobody noticed it.

�Good God a�mighty, Fargo,� Lem said, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the burned barn and of something else that was harder to identify. �What happened here?�

Fargo gave them a short account of the fight with Murray.

�That�s him over there,� Fargo said, pointing to the burned carcass.

�I thought I smelled something funny,� Lem said.

�Doesn�t look like much now, does he?� Molly said. �Hard to believe he had us all running scared for so long. Well, we won�t be running now.�

�He still managed to cause a hell of a mess of trouble,� Lem said. �No matter how he looks and smells now. And he finally got to my place, too.�

�He got your barn,� Fargo said, �but he didn�t get your house. And he didn�t get anybody else�s house. Not today.�

�We can build a new barn,� Abby said. �It�s just a building. Where�s Angel?�

Fargo told them about that, too.

�She�s inside,� he added. �I laid her on the table.�

�I�d be proud to sit up with her,� Lem said.

�So would I, I think,� Abby said. �Even if she did try to bury me alive, she wasn�t all bad.�

�She wasn�t all good, either,� Molly said, �but even at that she didn�t deserve the kind of family she had.�

�What about you?� Fargo asked them. �How did things turn out at the Bigelow House?�

�We got all the bastards,� Lem said. �Some of them are just wounded, but we left them to take care of each other. If they do, that�s fine. They won�t be bothering anybody for a while. And if they don�t, well, to hell with them. We gave them every chance.�

�Jed would be glad to know you settled everything for him,� Abby told Fargo. �I knew you could do it.�

There�d been times when Fargo hadn�t shared her confidence, but he figured he�d done what Jed would have wanted. And he�d done what he wanted. He couldn�t let his friend be murdered and just walk away.

�I guess you�ll be leaving now,� Molly said.

She was right. Fargo didn�t have anything to tie him to the farmers now.

�I�ll head out tomorrow,� he said. �After Angel�s funeral.�

�And you�re sure there�s no way we could make a farmer of you?� Molly asked.

Abby looked at her suspiciously and asked, �Have you been thinking about farming, Fargo?�

�Not a whole lot,� Fargo said. �I�ve been thinking more about mountains with snow on the tops, and some country where there aren�t a lot of farms all jammed up together.�

Lem laughed. �I wouldn�t say we�re all jammed together here, Fargo. Plenty of room for another farm. Lots more of them, to tell the truth.�

�It may look that way to you. Not to me, though.�

�Well,� Molly said, getting another suspicious look from Abby, �if you�re ever back this way, Fargo, stop in and visit for a while.�

Fargo never knew where he might be the next week or the next month, but he knew how way led on to way, and he didn�t think he�d ever find himself in this part of the country again, at least not for a long time.

�I�ll be sure and do that,� he said.

LOOKING FORWARD!