Outlaw Trackdown

by Jon Sharpe

  They were so intent in beating each other senseless that neither paid much attention to where they stepped. Not until Fargo felt sudden heat and pain and realized they had blundered into the fire.

  Coltraine saw it at the same time and leaped back out of reach. Smoke was rising from a boot and he stomped it and swore.

  Fargo glanced around to be sure the lawman’s fallen six-shooter wasn’t in easy reach. He could use his Colt if he wanted but he had started this with his fists and he would end it with them.

  “This is what I get for goin’ easy on you,” the marshal said. “I never should have let you out of jail.”

  Fargo was grateful for the breather and sought to make it last longer by saying, “What’s the real reason you left Texas?”

  “I already told you,” Coltraine said. “That boy was doin’ his damnedest to make my life a livin’ hell. Thanks to him, rumors were spreadin’.”

  “About all the women you’d bedded,” Fargo guessed. “Hoby’s ma wasn’t the only one.” He didn’t really think Coltraine would answer, not with Amanda there, but evidently he’d forgotten about her.

  “A man has needs. And you have no call to criticize. When it comes to women, I hear tell you put every he-bull around to shame. You can’t keep your pecker in your pants any more than I can.”

  “I don’t pretend it’s something it isn’t,” Fargo said. “I never say it’s love when it’s not.”

  Coltraine shrugged. “Love talk is like flowers. A man does what he has to to get them to part their legs.”

  “You hear that, Amanda?” Fargo said.

  Amanda had. She has risen on her elbows and looked as if her whole world had come crashing down. “Luther, no,” she said softly.

  “I’ve never done that with you, darlin’,” Coltraine assured her. “I care for you, gal. You know that.”

  “Do I?”

  “We’ll go away together,” Coltraine said. “I’ll have Fargo thrown in prison and deal with my wretch of a son, and we’ll start a new life together.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” Amanda said.

  Coltraine glared at Fargo. “Look at what you’ve done. Turned her against me.”

  “For the first time she sees you for how you are.”

  “All those others meant nothin’ to me. She does, I tell you.”

  “I don’t give a damn about any of that,” Fargo said. “Give me your word you won’t try to arrest me on trumped-up charges and I’ll leave you and her to hash it out yourselves.”

  “No,” Amanda said. “I don’t want to be alone with him. Now that I know the truth, there’s no telling what he might do.”

  “I’d never harm a hair on your head, gal,” Coltraine said. “You mean too much to me.”

  “Quit lying, Luther,” Amanda said sadly.

  Coltraine grew red with anger. “And you want me to just let you ride off?” he said to Fargo. “To trust you not to go to the newspapers? If this got out, it’d be the end of my law days. No one would hire me.”

  “I’ve already told you I don’t care about your womanizing.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’d ruin me if you could, just like Hoby. I can’t have that.” Coltraine brought his fists up. “You’re goin’ to prison where you can’t do me any harm.”

  “Over my dead body,” Fargo said.

  “Whatever it takes,” Luther Coltraine said, and came at him anew.

  Fargo got his arms up just in time to ward off a blow that would have taken his head off. He jabbed, sidestepped, and hit hard twice to Coltraine’s ribs. Coltraine decided to do the same to him and unknowingly caught him on his stab wound. The pain nearly doubled him over.

  To hold Coltraine off, Fargo streaked a punch at his face. He missed but it drove the lawman back.

  “Luther,” Amanda said. “Stop this.”

  “Go to hell,” Coltraine said without looking at her. “You chose to believe him over me.”

  “I may be young but I’m not stupid,” Amanda said. “You’ve used me like you used those other women. But I suppose it’s as much my fault as yours. I threw myself at you, at the great man who could do no wrong.” She laughed bitterly.

  Coltraine turned his face to her. “What will it take to convince you?”

  “Do what’s right,” Amanda said, “and let him go.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Then I’m sorry too,” Amanda said. “It’s over between us. I’m going to confess everything to my parents and take my medicine and move on with my life.”

  “You can’t do that to me,” Coltraine said. “I’ll be fired.”

  “You could go to Denver. I hear they have a lot of houses of ill repute. At least you wouldn’t have to lie to get them to shed their clothes for you.”

  “Oh, Amanda,” Coltraine said.

  She looked at Fargo and some of her old spirit returned. “Would you do me favor?”

  “If I can,” Fargo said.

  “Beat the hell out of him. I can’t do it myself and I want to see this so-and-so bleed.”

  37

  “You little bitch,” Luther Coltraine growled.

  “So much for true love,” Fargo said.

  Coltraine glared, then let out a bellow worthy of a bull buffalo and came at Fargo like a madman. His arms pinwheeling, Coltraine sought to overpower him by brute strength.

  Countering as best he could, Fargo gave way. Some of the blows connected, provoking spikes of pain. He let them. He blocked, he weaved, but he didn’t strike back. It emboldened Coltraine into swinging wilder. Which was exactly what Fargo wanted.

  The moment he had been waiting for came. Coltraine cocked his right arm and lowered his left farther than he should’ve. Fargo tensed, and when the right fist flashed, he shifted to avoid it and slammed his own into Coltraine’s jaw with all the force in his sinews.

  Luther Coltraine took a single, faltering step, shook his head to try to clear it, and sprawled in a heap in the dust.

  “You beat him!” Amanda happily cried, and forgetting her shoulder wound, she clapped her hands.

  Fargo stood over the lawman, breathing deeply. His knuckles were bruised and his ribs were on fire.

  “Now what?” Amanda asked.

  Good question, Fargo thought. “I take you home and you tell your folks about him.”

  Amanda stared at her lover and gnawed her lip. “They’ll be mad as can be but it’ll be worth it to see him disgraced. He has it coming for how he treated me and all those other women.”

  Fargo felt like a bit of a hypocrite. After all, he was fond of the ladies, too. The difference being that he didn’t wear a badge and pretend to be a model of virtue. And he wouldn’t arrest someone on false grounds to have them thrown in prison. “I suppose he has it coming.”

  “You suppose?” Amanda declared in disbelief. “He deserves it, if anyone does. Help me up and we’ll head out.”

  “I don’t think you’re strong enough yet.”

  “Then what are you going to do? Tie him and keep him prisoner until I’m fit to ride?”

  “I have an idea,” said a new voice. “How about if I take him off your hands?”

  Fargo whirled at the “I,” and froze.

  “Miss me?” Hoby Cotton said with a grin. He was flanked by Semple and Timbre Wilson, both with their six-guns leveled.

  “Not you again,” Amanda said.

  “I’m like a bad penny,” Hoby said. “Or so my pa, here, keeps tellin’ me.” He walked up and jabbed Coltraine with a toe. “How the mighty have fallen. Ain’t that how it goes?”

  “Where did you come from?” Amanda asked. “I thought you’d be halfway back to Texas by now.”

  “Not a chance,” Hoby said. “Not while there’s unfinished business between him and me.”

  Fargo didn’t
like the sound of that. “Unfinished how?”

  Hoby moved to the fire and squatted and helped himself to Fargo’s coffee. “For a long time now I’ve done all I can to make him a laughingstock. Saved the best for last, robbin’ the bank under his nose like I did.”

  “I’m guessing that’s not enough,” Fargo said when the boy didn’t go on.

  “Not by a long shot.” Hoby swallowed and smiled. “My ma cheated on her husband for him and he left her in the lurch. When I found out and showed up on his doorstep, did he greet his long-lost son with open arms? He did not. He treated me like dirt and told me to get lost. And now his posse has killed one of my brothers. He has a lot to answer for, has Luther Coltraine.”

  “What will you do to him?” Amanda asked.

  “Might be I’ll drag him for a couple of miles over the rockiest parts I can find,” Hoby said. “I hear that peels the skin and flesh right off.”

  “That would be terrible.”

  “Wouldn’t it, though?” Hoby said, and laughed. He drained the tin cup and tossed it away, then stood and stepped to Amanda. Hunkering, he tapped her bandage. “What happened to you?”

  “A stray bullet,” Amanda said. “I would have died if not for Skye.”

  “How sweet,” Hoby said, and before anyone could guess his intent, he punched the bandage as hard as he could.

  Amanda screamed.

  Fargo took a step but stopped when Timbre Wilson and Semple pointed their revolvers.

  “No, you don’t, mister,” Timbre Wilson said. “We’ll shoot you dead if you try to help her.”

  Clutching herself, Amanda writhed and sobbed. She might have gone on a good while but Hoby lunged and cupped her chin and held her face steady.

  “Enough bawlin’, bitch. It hurts my ears.”

  “Why?” Amanda said. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “You let him poke you,” Hoby said, with a nod at Coltraine. “And when I warned you about him, you wouldn’t listen.”

  “I was in love,” Amanda said, wincing. “Or thought I was. Now my eyes have been opened and I see him for how he truly is.”

  “So you won’t care if I flay him to pieces?”

  “Flay away,” Amanda said. “And when I’m up to it, I’ll dance on his grave.”

  “Good for you,” Hoby said. He reached out and she flinched and drew away but all he did was pat her on the head. “I reckon I’m sorry for that wallop.”

  Fargo had seldom come across anyone so . . . unpredictable. The boy was deadly one minute, friendly the next.

  “How about you, scout?” Hoby asked, turning. “Would you butt in if I took a knife and went to slit his throat.”

  “Coltraine is nothing to me,” Fargo said. Although he wouldn’t stand there and let it happen.

  “Well, then,” Hoby said. “We’ll take him and be on our way.”

  “Hold on,” Timbre Wilson said. “You’re forgettin’ about Abe, and how this scout nearly killed me.”

  “I never forget nothin’,” Hoby said. “Semple and me will light out with my so-called pa. You stay and take care of the scout and the girl.”

  “What?” Amanda said.

  “Come now, darlin’,” Hoby said. “I let you live, they’d use you against me if they ever brought me to trial. They’d put you on the stand and make you swear on the Bible that the last you saw of the marshal, Semple and me were cartin’ him off to send him into the hereafter.”

  “I’d never do that,” Amanda said.

  Hoby winked at Fargo. “I should be mad at how dumb folks think I am. But I’m not dumb, am I?”

  “No,” Fargo said, “dumb is one thing you’re not.”

  Pleased, Hoby beamed. “I’m smart enough to know that you’re the only hombre in a hundred miles who could track me and my pards down. Which is extra reason to blow out your wick.”

  “Why don’t I do it and get it over with?” Timbre Wilson said.

  “Weren’t you sayin’ as how you’d love to poke this pretty little filly your own self?” Hoby said. “That it’s a shame the marshal was havin’ all the fun?”

  Timbre stared at Amanda and a lecherous gleam came into his eyes. “I do believe I did.”

  “There you go.” Hoby laughed and said to Semple, “Fetch our horses and our ropes, and let the fun commence.”

  38

  It was becoming a habit. Every time Fargo turned around, he was trussed up like a lamb for slaughter. He should be thankful that Hoby Cotton hadn’t simply shot him, but the rope biting into his wrists and legs was a painful harbinger that he didn’t have long to live, anyhow.

  Timbre Wilson watched the Cottons ride out. Semple led Coltraine’s horse, with the lawman facedown over the saddle.

  Amanda lay near petrified with fear. She couldn’t take her eyes off Wilson. Clearly, she yearned to rise and run but she was still too weak to do more than say, “Lay a hand on me and you’ll regret it.”

  “You don’t say,” Timbre Wilson replied.

  “Violating a woman will get you hung,” Amanda tried again.

  Timbre glanced at her and licked his lips. “Who’s to know? The scout, there, will be rottin’ in the dirt. You won’t be around, neither.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Amanda said. “All because I fell in love.”

  “What I don’t believe in is that,” Timbre Wilson said.

  “In what?”

  “In love, you jackass. It’s a fancy word folks use who like to strip bare and go at it. To me a poke is just a poke.”

  Amanda tried another angle. “You were nice to me once. Back when Hoby took me from the bank.”

  “I had to be,” Timbre said, still watching his friends fade into the far-off haze. “Hoby’s orders. He wanted to study on you and said the rest of us were to treat you like we would our own sisters.” He chuckled at that.

  “Why did he want to study me?”

  “He was tryin’ to figure you out. He couldn’t savvy how you could be so stupid as to give yourself to Coltraine.”

  “He doesn’t believe in love either?”

  “The kid? Sure he does. He’s not as practical as me. Give him a few years and he’ll learn better.”

  Fargo was trying to slip his fingers into his boot but the rope around his ankles was too tight. He’d have to find another way.

  “Now then,” Timbre said, turning at last. “I reckon we should get to it.” He drew his six-gun. “A pill to the brainpan for him and then you and me will do it until the cows come home.”

  “I’m not in any shape for that,” Amanda said. “I’ve lost too much blood. All I’d do is lie here.”

  “So?” Timbre said, and laughed. “That just means you can’t scratch my eyes out.”

  Amanda looked at Fargo. “All I ever wanted was to be happy. Is that too much to ask of life?”

  Fargo tensed his legs without being obvious. He’d be damned if he’d go out meekly. He needed Wilson to come a couple of steps closer, though.

  “Now that’s somethin’ you and me have in common, girl,” Timbre Wilson was saying. “I like bein’ happy, too.”

  “You just told me that you don’t believe in love,” Amanda replied. “What else is there that makes someone truly happy?”

  “Killin’ and stealin’.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Ain’t ever been more serious in my life,” Timbre said. “Nothin’ makes me happier than killin’ someone. Or helpin’ myself to a sack full of money.”

  “You forgot havin’ your way with helpless females.”

  Timbre Wilson took a step toward her. “It ain’t smart to provoke me. Make me mad and you’ll suffer more.”

  “The mere touch of you will be suffering enough,” Amanda declared defiantly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it makes me violently
ill.”

  “I’ll just wait until you’re done bein’ sick and start in again.”

  “And when you do, I’ll think of him,” Amanda said.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. When you put your filthy hands on me, I’ll shut you out by thinking of Luther and all the wonderful times we’ve had.”

  “If you don’t beat all.”

  “That’s right,” Amanda said. “I’ll think of my love for him, and nothing else. You won’t exist. Do what you want to me, you animal, and it will be as if I’m not even here.”

  “Oh, you’ll be here, all right,” Timbre said, and laughed.

  “Shows how much you know,” Amanda said. “But then, I doubt you have much of an imagination. Dullards usually don’t.”

  “Quit insultin’ me.”

  “Does it hurt your feelings? You don’t like being reminded that you’re as intelligent as a tree stump?”

  “I’m warnin’ you.”

  “You see me quaking, don’t you?” Amanda sarcastically retorted. “Hoby wants to make a laughingstock of Luther but you’re the real laughingstock. Why, I bet you can’t make love half as good as Luther does.”

  “Don’t you . . .” Timbre Wilson growled, and he was red in the face.

  Amanda went on raking her verbal claws. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll compare you to a real man? When you pull down your britches, I’ll laugh at how puny you are.”

  Wilson took another step. He was so mad, he’d forgotten about Fargo. “One more insult, bitch. Just one.”

  “And what? You’ll shoot me and deprive yourself of all that fun? Just because you’re afraid I’ll remind you that you’re not much where it really counts?”

  “That does it.”

  Fargo was ready. When Timbre Wilson took another step and raised his six-shooter to club her, he exploded into motion. He rammed both feet against Wilson’s left knee and there was a sharp crack.

  Wilson cried out and his leg buckled and he pitched forward, almost on top of Amanda. Instantly, he twisted and went to point his revolver at Fargo.

  Shrieking like a banshee, Amanda Brenner flung herself at the outlaw. She wasn’t as weak as she’d let on. Her hand streaked, her fingernails digging deep. She’d gone for one of his eyes.