Beartooth Incident

by Jon Sharpe

  “Cud Sten will ask the questions. He’ll be here shortly.”

  Fargo wore his best poker face. He was in for it unless they believed him.

  His nerves tingling, he heard riders approach. Soon they were all there, ringing him, their revolvers out and cocked.

  Cud Sten hadn’t drawn his. He reined up next to Rika and listened to a brief recital of Fargo’s account. Then Cud fixed his dark eyes on Fargo.

  “That’s your story, is it, mister?”

  Fargo nodded.

  “It could be you’re telling the truth. Then again, it could be you’re an egg-sucking bastard. And if you killed my pard to get his horse and gun, you’ll die in more pain than you can imagine.”

  “I’ve never stolen a horse in my life,” Fargo said. “If I’d know your ranch was nearby, I’d have guessed the man rode for you and gone there to tell you I found him.”

  “My ranch?” Cud said, and glanced at Rika.

  “The cows,” Rika said.

  That seemed to amuse Cud Sten. “So you reckon I’m a rancher, huh? Do you hear that, boys?”

  Some of the others laughed.

  “Why else would you be herding cows in all this snow?” Fargo feigned ignorance.

  “Makes you wonder,” Cud said.

  “I’d be obliged if I could stay a night or two to rest up. As for this horse, I’ll pay for him, or another if you have one to spare.”

  Cud’s interest perked and he leaned forward. “Have a lot of money on you, do you?”

  “Hardly any,” Fargo said. The money that they had taken from Tull was wrapped up in his saddlebags. “You’d have to sell it to me cheap.”

  The redhead gigged his mount closer and wagged his six-shooter. “I don’t believe a word this coyote says. I say we blast him and be on our way.”

  Cud Sten’s features hardened. “Are you the boss now, Lear? Are you giving orders now?”

  The redhead blanched. “No, Cud! Never. Not me. I wouldn’t ever do that. I’m just saying, is all.”

  For a few seconds all eyes were on Sten as if they expected an explosion of violence.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Please, Cud. I’ve been with you a long time. You know me.”

  Cud Sten smiled, and the others visibly relaxed. “I’ll let it pass this time. But only because I’m in a good mood.”

  “Lucky devil,” one of the others said.

  Cud turned to Fargo. “I don’t rightly know what to do with you yet, so I’m taking you with me until I do. If it turns out you’re lying, I’ll do things to you that would make an Apache green with envy. If you have any objections, let me hear them.”

  Fargo starred at the ring of hard faces and the ring of revolver muzzles, and he did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He smiled and spread his hands. “Where are we headed?”

  12

  Fargo’s luck wasn’t all bad. They didn’t tie him or search him. Two did ride on either side of him, their hands on their six-shooters. Rika was up ahead, the rest behind with the cows.

  One of those guarding him was Lear, and Fargo tried to strike up a conversation.

  “You don’t like strangers much, I take it?”

  “I don’t like anybody. So shut the hell up.”

  When Rika came to the tracks Fargo had discovered earlier, he drew rein. Cud Sten rode up and asked why Rika had stopped.

  “Another shod horse,” Rika said, pointing at the hoof prints. “Not Tull’s. It went that way.” He pointed across the grassy flatland.

  “Another white man hereabouts?” Cud Sten rubbed his club on his chin. “The Beartooths are right popular all of a sudden. It can’t be the gent we stole these cows from. We lost him and his hands days ago. Can’t be a lawman, either. The law never comes this far in.”

  “Want me to have a look-see?”

  “Of course. We’ll be at the cabin. Bring him back breathing. Maybe he’s a pard of simpleton here.” Cud waved his club at Fargo. “If so, they’ll have a heap of explaining to do.”

  Rika nodded and trotted toward the far trees.

  Cud rose in the stirrups and bellowed at the men tending the cows, “Keep ’em moving. I aim to reach her place before dark. If we don’t, it will rile me, and you don’t want me riled.”

  Fargo clucked to the sorrel and brought it up next to Sten’s animal. Neither Lear nor the other guard tried to stop him. “Mind if we talk?”

  Cud regarded him with a mix of contempt and curiosity. “What’s on your mind, simpleton?”

  “What do you aim to do with me?”

  “I’ve already done told you. I don’t rightly know. Could be you’re just passing through—in which case maybe I’ll let you live. Could be you told me a pack of lies—in which case I’ll break every bone in your body before I pound your skull in.”

  Fargo nodded at the club. “I don’t see many of those.”

  “They’re right handy.” Grinning, Cud smacked the club against the palm of his other hand. “As quiet as a knife and better than a pair of fists.” He patted the club.

  “How’d you come to use one?”

  “The first time was in a saloon fight. I busted a chair over a fella’s head and it broke. He had some friends, and I took a chair leg to them. I liked it so much, I had this made.” Cud fondled the thick end of the club. “Can’t tell you how many heads I’ve split open.” He gave Fargo a meaningful look.

  “I heard you mention a cabin. Is that where you’re taking me?”

  “A lady friend of mine lives there. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t go anywhere near her. I’ve got plans for that little lady.”

  “To be hitched?”

  “Hell, simpleton, I ain’t the marrying kind. No, me and her are going to live in sin, as church folk say.”

  “The lady likes that idea, does she?”

  “Whether she does or she doesn’t, she don’t have a say.” Cud licked his thick lips. “I’ve been after this filly for a long time now and she keeps putting me off. But not anymore. This time I’m having my way.” He stopped and scowled. “Why the hell am I telling you this? I don’t know you from Adam. Go back with the cows and don’t pester me.”

  “One more thing,” Fargo said.

  Cud swore and swung the club.

  Fargo tried to dodge but he couldn’t pull far enough back. The club caught him on the shoulder and sent pain shooting through clear down to his toes. His boot came out of the stirrup and he was nearly unhorsed. Clinging to the saddle horn with his other hand, he managed to pull himself back up.

  Sten’s men were hooting and laughing.

  “That’ll learn you,” Cud growled. “When I tell you to do something, you damn well do it. Get back with the cows, and don’t let out a peep or you’ll lose some teeth.”

  Fargo had no choice. Lear and the other man went with him, Lear chortling in sadistic glee.

  The ride to the valley took an eternity. Fargo was afraid that when they got to the cabin Mary and the kids would rush out to greet him and Cud Sten would realize everything he had said was a lie. He wanted to try for the forest but he would be shot dead before he reached it. In a mental funk, he didn’t look around when one of the men yelled.

  Cud Sten drew rein and twisted in the saddle. “Well, will you look at that? Today is full of surprises.”

  Fargo stopped and turned.

  Rika was trotting toward them, leading the Ovaro by the reins. The saddle was still on but it had shifted, and the Henry rifle was no longer in the scabbard. Rika was holding it.

  “Any trouble?” Cud asked.

  “The horse was by itself,” Rika revealed. “It’s worn-out and hungry. Must have been wandering for days.”

  “And the gent who owns it?”

  Fargo said, “That would be me.”

  All of them looked at him.

  “I told you I lost my horse in the blizzard, remember? I was worried I’d lost him for good. Now you can have your friend’s horse back and I’ll take mine
and be on my way.”

  “Like hell you will,” Cud said. He kneed his mount over to the Ovaro and patted the stallion’s neck. “This here is one fine animal. I might take a notion to keep him for myself.”

  “He’s mine,” Rika said.

  To Fargo’s surprise, Cud Sten didn’t object. “That’s my rifle you’re holding,” he mentioned.

  “It’s mine, too.” Rika trained the Henry on him. “You’re welcome to try and take it back.”

  Some of the others laughed.

  Fargo simmered but did nothing. What could he do when it was seven to one and all he had was a knife?

  “Besides,” Cud said, “how do we know they’re really yours? They could belong to anybody.”

  Rika had let go of the Ovaro’s reins, and just then the Ovaro came over to Fargo and nuzzled his leg. He rubbed its neck. “There, there, big fella. I’ve missed you, too.” He grinned at Cud.

  “Don’t make a lick of difference. What we want, we take. Throw a rope over him, Rika, and bring him along.”

  The sun was low to the horizon when they neared the stand that hid the cabin. Smoke from the chimney coiled above the trees like a gray snake.

  Fargo braced for the worst. He promised himself that before he went down, he would bury the toothpick in Cud Sten. With their leader dead, the others might leave Mary be.

  They wound through the trees and drew rein. The curtain over the window moved. Then the door opened and Mary came out, her arms around Nelly and Jayce. “Mr. Sten,” she said formally.

  Fargo saw Jayce spot him and open his mouth but Mary’s fingers tightened on the boy’s shoulder and she whispered something. Jayce closed his mouth and looked away.

  “It’s great to see you again, Mary gal,” Cud Sten blustered. “There hasn’t been a day gone by that I haven’t thought of you.”

  “It must be my cooking.”

  Cud laughed a lot louder than her quip called for. Alighting, he motioned with his club at the cows. “I brought you presents, gal. Six of them. You’re always saying as how you never have enough to eat. Now you’ll have plenty of milk for the sprouts. And if you want, my men will butcher one of these critters and smoke and dry the meat so you have enough to last you the whole winter.” Cud beamed at his own generosity. “How does that sound?”

  “I can’t accept gifts from you, Mr. Sten.”

  “Of course you can. We’re friends, ain’t we? And what are friends for if not to help one another out?”

  Rika said, “Ask her about Tull.”

  Cud glanced at him in some annoyance, but then said, “Got a question for you, Mary gal. I sent my man Tull on ahead to make sure you were all right. Did he ever show?”

  “I haven’t seen Mr. Tull since the last time you paid us a visit.”

  Cud fixed on her face, trying to read by her expression if she was telling the truth.

  Fargo had to hand it to her; Mary would make a great poker player. Nelly, though, averted her gaze and nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Fargo couldn’t tell if Cud noticed.

  Mary turned innocent eyes on him. “Isn’t this man riding Mr. Tull’s horse?”

  “He sure is. He says he found Tull with an arrow in him and had to help himself to Tull’s because he lost his own.”

  Mary gazed at the Ovaro. “And who does this fine animal belong to?”

  “We found it along the way and Rika has taken a shine to him. But if you ask real nice, Rika might let you ride him.”

  “I refuse to ask any favors of Mr. Rika.”

  “Now, now, what has he ever done to you?” Cud smiled his warmest smile. “Enough of this standing around in the cold.” He pointed his club at Lear and another man. “You two see to the beeves. Put them in the corral. Since there ain’t room for the cows and our horses both, you’ll have to picket the horses. Tie the rope good and tight. If any of the horses get loose, I’ll have your hides. Bring our gear when you come in. The rest of you boys can come inside now.” He looked at Fargo. “You, too, stranger.”

  The warmth of the cabin was a welcome relief. Fargo went over and sat on the floor by the fireplace, his legs bent, his hands close to the tops of his boots so he could get to the Arkansas toothpick quickly if he had to.

  Cud and his men took seats at the table. Not Rika, though; he stood in a corner, the Henry cradled in his arms, as motionless as a statue.

  Mary sent Nelly and Jayce into their room and told them to close the door. She stepped to the stove and put coffee on. “This is the last I have. I’m afraid you’ll have to do without once this is gone.”

  “That’s what you think” Cud responded. “I brought you a bunch of vittles. Coffee. A bag of flour. Sugar. I even brought some of those lemon drops your sprouts like.”

  “You spoil me,” Mary said drily.

  “And you know why.”

  “Please, Mr. Sten, I’ve asked you before not to make more of our relationship than there can ever possibly be. I haven’t been a widow all that long. I need more time to heal.”

  “It’s been pretty near a year,” Cud growled. “If you ain’t healed by now, you ain’t never going to be.” He forced a smile. “What you need is another man so you can forget about—What was his name?”

  “Frank,” Mary said softly.

  “So you can forget about Frank and get on with your life. You need a man who doesn’t mind coming all this way to be with you. A man who brings you gifts and treats your sprouts decent.”

  “They’re children, Mr. Sten, not plants. And you are referring to yourself, I take it.”

  “I’ve made my interest plain. I’ve been awful patient with you because you’re special. But my patience has about run out. You need to make up your mind and you need to do it soon.”

  Fargo caught the implied threat. So, too, he suspected, did Mary, but she didn’t let on.

  When Lear and the other man came in with the saddlebags and bedrolls, Cud made a show of giving her the food he had brought.

  “Whip us up some supper, why don’t you? I sure am hungry. In fact, I’ll have my men butcher one of the cows right this minute so we can have thick, juicy steaks. How would that be?”

  “I don’t mind cooking for you,” Mary said in a tone that suggested she minded very much.

  “Ain’t you a peach!” Cud barked orders for two of his men to do the butchering. He sat like some king holding court, and declared, “Yes, sir. This is the life. A roof over my head, a fine gal to cook a good meal, and my pards for company. What more can a man ask for?”

  “I never took you for a homebody,” Lear said.

  “You don’t know me very well. None of you do. I’ve got the same hankerings as most any man. I won’t do what I’m doing forever. One day I’ll want to hang up my six-gun and sit in a rocking chair and take life easy.” Cud gazed expansively about the room. “I can’t think of a better place to live out my days than right here.”

  Fargo could guess why. There wasn’t any law for hundreds of miles. Plus, it was so deep into the Beartooth Mountains, no one would think to look for Cud there.

  “How about a game?” a man suggested.

  Cards were produced. Poker hands were dealt.

  Fargo would have loved to sit in, but he wasn’t asked. The outlaws were ignoring him, which suited him fine.

  Coincidentally, just then Cud glanced around. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, mister. I haven’t. After I’ve eaten and relaxed a spell, I’ll make up my mind what to do with you.”

  Mary heard, and asked, “What do mean, Mr. Sten? What is it you have to decide?”

  “Whether simpleton here lives or dies.”

  13

  Out behind the cabin a cow commenced to squall and low in terror and pain. The men sent to do the butchering were doing a poor job. It was supposed to be quick: Slit the cow’s throat so the cow bled out fast, and down it went. Either they didn’t cut deep enough or they were trying some other way, and the cow was in torment.

  Nell
y and Jayce ran out of their room, Nelly crying. “Ma? What are those awful sounds?”

  “It’s all right,” Mary assured them, and gave Cud Sten a look that would blister paint.

  Cud put down his cards. Standing up, he hitched at his gun belt. “I’m sorry, gal. I’ve got me a bunch of idiots who can’t do nothing right.” He started toward the door, saw Rika in the corner, and added, “Except for you.” He slammed the front door after him. Not ten seconds later the blast of a revolver put an end to the squalling.

  Fargo noticed that the men at the table appeared nervous. Apparently riding with Cud Sten was like riding with a rabid wolf: They never knew but when the wolf would turn on them.

  Cud opened the front door and took a step inside.

  “Your boots, Mr. Sten,” Mary said.

  “What about them?”

  “You’ll track snow in. Clean them off, if you please.”

  Cud looked down at his snow-caked boots and then at her. “You mean it?”

  “This is my home. I like to keep it clean.”

  “Hell, gal,” Cud said. But he kicked his boots against the outer wall until most of the snow was off. “How’s that?”

  “You’re a perfect gentleman.”

  Beaming, Cud went over to his chair. “Did you hear her, boys? No one’s ever called me that before.”

  “I wonder why,” one of them muttered.

  Cud cuffed him.

  Fargo was debating what to do. He took Cud’s threat seriously. The man wouldn’t think twice about killing him. The smart thing was to get out of there but that meant deserting Mary and her kids.

  Cud produced a flask. He drank, then smacked his lips and set the flask on the table with a loud thunk. “That sure hit the spot.”

  Mary was mixing ingredients in a baking pan. She swiped at a bang, leaving a line of flour across her forehead, and said, “What have I told you about liquor, Mr. Sten?”

  “A man has to have a nip now and then.”

  “My Frank refrained. I expect you to do the same when you are under my roof. For the children’s sake.”

  Cud Sten scowled. “You’re beginning to annoy me, gal. One minute I’m a gent. The next you are on me about my drinking.”