Read Beartooth Incident Online
Authors: Jon Sharpe
Beartooth Incident (7 page)
“What?”
“You heard me. And do it pronto or lose a knee.” Reluctantly, his hands out from his sides, Fargo counted the steps off. He could see the toothpick but it might as well be on the moon for all the good it was doing him.
Tull could see it, too. “What
is
that?” he demanded as he warily came over. He kicked the chair aside, and squatted. “Well, lookee here.” He held the toothpick high so the blade caught the candle glow.
is
that?” he demanded as he warily came over. He kicked the chair aside, and squatted. “Well, lookee here.” He held the toothpick high so the blade caught the candle glow.
Fargo sensed what was coming and braced himself. “So this is what I get for sparing you? A knife in the gizzard?” Tull rose. “You miserable son of a bitch.”
Mary tried to say something through her gag.
“Shut up, cow,” Tull snapped. He tossed the toothpick onto the table and advanced on Fargo, a vicious sneer curling his cruel face. “I’ve changed my mind, mister. If Cud wants to know who you are and what you were doing here, he can ask you in hell.”
Fargo tried to dodge the boot rising toward his gut but he was too slow. Pain brought him to his knees. He flung out his arms to ward off a second kick and never saw the sweep of the Colt but he felt the blow to his temple. The next he knew, he was on his side with the killer gloating over him.
“Any last words, mister? Any begging you care to do? It won’t change anything but you can grovel if you want.”
Fargo glared.
“Tough bastard, is that it? Well, we’ll see. It’s been a while since I stomped anyone to death.”
Over in the corner Mary and Nelly were trying to speak and thrashing wildly about.
“You’re going to be a long time dying.”
Jayce began kicking the wall.
“Cut that out!” Tull growled, not taking his eyes off Fargo. “All that fuss to keep me from kicking your teeth in. They must like you, mister. When I’m done, I’ll give each of them a tooth as a keepsake.”
Fargo placed his hands flat on the floor. He had one chance and one chance only.
“This is going to be fun,” Tull said, and raised his boot.
7
Fargo stood no chance in a fight. He was too weak to last long. Tull knew it but he had overlooked one thing. Fargo didn’t
have
to last if he could bring Tull down quickly. So as Tull raised his leg to stomp him, Fargo resorted to the dirtiest trick there was; he drove his fist up and in, slamming his knuckles into Tull’s groin.
have
to last if he could bring Tull down quickly. So as Tull raised his leg to stomp him, Fargo resorted to the dirtiest trick there was; he drove his fist up and in, slamming his knuckles into Tull’s groin.
The killer cursed and staggered back. Sputtering, he clutched himself. His face became red, almost purple. “You’re dead, you bastard.” He tried to raise his pearl-handled Colt.
Fargo heaved off the floor. The movement made him light-headed, but he lashed out, swatting Tull’s wrist just as the Colt went off. The revolver thundered loud in the confines of the cabin. The slug missed him and struck a wall.
“Kill you!” Tull railed, and thumbed back the hammer to try again.
Fargo punched him, a short, brutal chop to the throat that sent Tull crashing onto his side.
Now the sounds that came from Tull’s throat weren’t words. They were gurgles and snarls. He’d dropped the Colt and now he grabbed for it, his fingers rigid claws.
Bending, Fargo punched him again, in the side of the neck. Not once, but three times, and after the third blow Tull broke out in convulsions and loud whines burst from his gaping mouth.
Fargo reached for the Colt. He moved as slow as a turtle but he got it in his hand. He cocked it and placed the muzzle against Tull’s forehead. “You shouldn’t treat a lady like that.” He squeezed the trigger.
The commotion in the corner had ceased. Mary and her young ones were gaping at the brains and hair and gore. Nelly made gagging sounds. Jayce laughed with glee.
Wincing, Fargo reclaimed his toothpick and shuffled over. “I’ll have you free in a moment.” Since he couldn’t trust his legs, he sat down. Mary was on her knees, staring at him, and there was a question in her eyes. He removed the gag and threw the cloth aside. “Did he hurt you any?”
“No. I’m more worried about you. You’re as white as a sheet.”
Fargo nodded at the brains and the blood. “Sorry about the mess.”
“He didn’t give you a choice.”
“You’re safe now,” Fargo said, and began carefully cutting the rope around her wrists.
“I wish that were true. But Cud Sten will be here soon. Tull was a friend of his. He won’t like this one bit. And he won’t care that you were defending yourself.”
“Who says he has to find out?”
“You mean bury the body where Cud will never find it? That still leaves Tull’s horse. I’d take it up into the mountains and leave it in a box canyon I know of—only with all the snow, it would starve.”
“We can say the horse showed up by itself,” Fargo suggested. “Then we’ll show him the dead wolves and let him add two and two himself.”
Mary smiled. “It just might work. So long as Cud doesn’t catch on that you were the one the wolves nearly tore apart.”
“So long as I don’t go around naked, he won’t suspect.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she gave a light cough. “You can wear some of Frank’s clothes. You’re taller than he was, so they might not fit all that well, but it’s the best we can do.”
The rope finally parted and Fargo gave the toothpick to her. He was on the brink of collapse. With difficulty, he stood and moved to the stove. The pot of chicken soup was cold but he didn’t care. He took a ladle from a hook and carried the pot and the ladle and the Colt to the table. Setting the Colt down, he ate as one starved.
“You’d better chew that or you’ll make yourself sick,” Mary cautioned, coming over. She had cut Nelly free and Nelly was doing the same for her brother. “I can heat it if you’d like.”
“No,” Fargo said with his mouth crammed.
“Would you care for some coffee? I don’t have much left but I’ll put a pot on to brew.”
Fargo was tempted but the coffee might keep him up and he needed sleep as much as he needed anything. “Maybe in the morning.”
The children crossed to their mother and she draped her arms over their shoulders.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Fargo told them. He meant it. Kids and horses—he didn’t like to see either suffer.
Nelly shrugged. “It was no worse than that day we watched the grizzly eat our pa.”
“I’d like to see you shoot him again,” Jayce said. “He was mean to my ma. He had it coming.”
Mary knelt and took hold of her son’s hands. “Now who is being mean? No one ever deserves to die.”
Fargo disagreed, and ladled more soup into his mouth to keep from saying so.
“But you’re right in one respect,” Mary went on. “Sometimes the only way to deal with men like Mr. Tull is to do what no one should ever have to do.”
Fargo had lost count of the number of times he’d had to do it. The frontier was chock-full of Tulls. They came in all sizes and guises, and they all had one trait in common: They were heartless bastards who didn’t care who they hurt.
“Now why don’t the two of you scoot to bed while I take care of Mr. Tull?” Mary hugged and kissed first Nelly and then Jayce, and they headed for a door on the other side of the room.
“I’ll help you,” Fargo offered.
“You’ll do no such thing. It would only make you worse.” Mary stared down at the body. “It shouldn’t be all that hard for me to drag him outside. In the morning I’ll bury him if I can find a spot of ground soft enough.”
Fargo hadn’t thought of that. What with the cold and the snow, the ground would be rock hard. “That was a nice talk you gave your boy.”
“You think so? He’s young yet. He doesn’t need to know the truth.”
Puzzled, Fargo asked, “Which truth are we talking about?”
“Tull
did
deserve that bullet. He was as vicious as those wolves. The wolves, though, had an excuse. They were hungry. Tull was just a miserable son of a bitch who would have done the world a favor if he’d been stillborn.”
did
deserve that bullet. He was as vicious as those wolves. The wolves, though, had an excuse. They were hungry. Tull was just a miserable son of a bitch who would have done the world a favor if he’d been stillborn.”
The shock of her language took a few seconds to wear off so that Fargo could say, “And here I reckoned you were one of those weak sisters who sticks her head in the sand rather than take life as it is.”
“I suppose I gave that impression. But it was for my son’s and daughter’s benefit. The harsh realities of life will beat on them soon enough. I don’t see a reason to hurry it along.”
Fargo found himself admiring her more and more. “One face for your kids and one for the mirror?”
“Something like that, yes,” Mary answered with a grin. “You catch on quick. Are you a parent, yourself?”
“Hell, no. I’m not ready to set down roots.” Then there was the little matter of meeting the right woman.
“It’s hard, Skye. Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do, and that includes giving birth. But I wouldn’t trade being a mother for all the ill-gotten gains Cud Sten makes from his rustling and robbing.”
Fargo put a hand on the Colt. “I hope Tull has plenty of ammunition in his saddlebags.”
Those lovely emerald eyes of her narrowed. “Surely you don’t have the notion I think you’re toying with? You’re one man and he’ll have seven or eight others with him. All as vicious as Tull.”
“He’s made your life miserable long enough.”
“No, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Besides the odds, there’s the shape you’re in.”
“I can mend a lot before he gets here.”
“But why? We hardly know each other.”
“I like what I know. I like it a lot.”
“Oh.” Mary looked away. When she faced him again, there was the same question in her eyes. But she quickly recovered her composure. “You finish eating your food and I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes, Ma,” Fargo teased.
Mary laughed, the first real laugh he heard from her. She covered her mouth as if self-conscious of what she had done, then said, “You perplex me, sir. More than any man I ever met.”
“Does that include your Frank?”
“Frank was a good man. He was devoted and hardworking. A simple man, some would say.” Mary paused. “But I suspect there’s nothing simple about you. There’s nothing simple at all.”
“I’m as ordinary as water.”
Mary glanced at Tull. “Say what you will, but I know better.” She went into the bedroom and came out with a blanket. Spreading it on the floor, she rolled Tull onto it. It took some doing. She was huffing when she was done. She placed Tull’s hat on his chest and went to wrap the blanket around him.
“Wait.” Fargo had eaten enough that newfound vitality was coursing through his veins. He got up and went over and hunkered. “Waste not, want not, I’ve heard folks say.” He began to go through the dead man’s pockets.
“I should have thought of it,” Mary said.
Fargo found the usual. A pocketknife. A plug of tobacco. A crumpled letter he had no interest in. And a poke that jangled. He undid the tie string and upended the poke over the floor and out spilled double eagles and other coins and a wad of bills.
“My word, where did all that come from?”
“That rustling and robbing you were talking about, remember?” Fargo counted it. “Two hundred and forty-seven dollars.”
“That’s more than my Frank and I had at any one time in all the years we were married.”
Fargo kept the forty-seven for himself. He put the two hundred back in the poke and placed it in her hand. “Here.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
Mary stared at it and trembled slightly. “I couldn’t. It’s not right.”
“He sure as hell has no use for it.”
“But like you say, he got it by dishonest means.”
“So? If you knew where he got it from, you could give some of it back if it bothered you that much, but you don’t. And it would be stupid to let it go to waste. It’s yours, and that’s that.”
“Oh, Skye.”
A tingle ran down Fargo’s spine, startling him. “Don’t make more of it than there is,” he said more gruffly than he intended.
“Do you realize what this means for me and my children?”
Fargo patted the forty-seven dollars. “For me this means a poker game and a bottle of whiskey.” He unbuckled Tull’s gun belt and stripped it off. Then he wrapped the body in the blanket, stood, and took hold of the shoulders. “You get the other end and we’ll drag him out.”
“You’re in no condition,” Mary warned. “I can do it myself.”
“We don’t have all night. My cold soup is getting colder, and I’d like to eat a little more before I turn in.”
Reluctantly, Mary did as he wanted. Working together they hauled the body to the front door. Fargo was caked with sweat and could barely stand, but he opened the door and helped her push the body out. When he straightened, he swayed and had to the grip the wall to stay on his feet.
“See? I told you.” Mary stood at his side and hooked her arm around his waist. “Lean on me. I’ll get you to bed.”
“You’ll get me to the table. I told you I’m not done eating.”
“Why are men so stubborn?”
“Why do women ask such silly questions?”
Mary grinned. She pushed the door shut with her foot and helped him to the chair, then sat in the one next to him. Her chin in her hands, she regarded him thoughtfully.
“Where will you go from here?” Fargo asked between mouthfuls. “With that money you can start a whole new life.”
“Go? We don’t have a horse, remember? Let alone three.”
“Cud Sten does. I’m sure he and his men have lots of horses. Enough for all of you and for pack animals to take out your pots and pans and whatnot.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not if you’re only doing it for me. I don’t want you hurt on my account.”
Fargo grinned a lopsided grin. “You can’t take all the credit. There’re the kids.”
Mary looked into his eyes. “What kind of man are you?”
“The kind who needs a lot of sleep.” Fargo’s belly was about fit to explode and his eyelids had grown heavy.
“No. Really. I’d like to know.”
“Hell.” Fargo sat back. “I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like every other man.”
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