by Jon Sharpe
Owen appeared to be skeptical. “What’s this gathering business? There hasn’t been a gathering of all the Sioux in years. What could bring the bands together now?”
“A white buffalo.”
Senator Keever and Owen exchanged looks and the senator said, “We’re talking about an albino buffalo, correct? There are albino animals all the time. I’ve seen an albino deer myself. So why are the redskins making such a fuss over this white one?”
“To the Lakotas it’s sacred.”
“Oh, hogwash. An albino isn’t exceptional. I grant you they’re rare. But it’s a buffalo, for God’s sake. A shaggy brute that spends it days grazing and grunting and leaving smelly droppings all over the place. How in the world can even simple savages think it’s sacred?”
“A lot of whites think the same about their Bibles, don’t they?”
“Be serious, Mr. Fargo. Scripture is the divine word of the Almighty. A white buffalo is a lowly animal, nothing more.”
Fargo sighed. “The point is that these hills are crawling with Sioux, and more are showing up every day. It’s only a matter of time before some of them spot us. We can’t stay.”
Some of the men began to talk in hushed tones.
“Now look what you’ve done.” The senator made a dis missive gesture. “I’m staying, whether you do or not. And I’ll pay every man who stays with me an extra fifty dollars.”
“You’ll get them killed,” Fargo warned.
Owen made a clucking sound. “How about if you let us be the judge of that? Me, I like the notion of more money. It’s only for a week or so. By then the senator will have the trophy he’s after and we can head back.”
“Exactly right,” Keever confirmed.
“I don’t know,” one of the men spoke up. “The Sioux can be downright vicious. I saw a soldier once that they’d scalped and did things to that would curl your hair.”
“Fine,” Keever said stiffly. “Leave if you want to. But I’ll have no truck with cowards. Don’t expect the other half of the pay you’re due.”
“Don’t be so prickly. I didn’t say I was leaving. I only said as how the Sioux don’t ever show any mercy.”
“There are eleven of you. Twelve rifles if you count mine. Thirteen if Mr. Fargo doesn’t desert us. That’s more than enough to hold any number of savages at bay.”
Fargo sighed again. He was beginning to think the senator was the reason the word stupid had been invented. “I said it was a gathering of all the bands. There will be thousands of warriors. You and your dozen rifles wouldn’t stand a prayer.”
Keever turned to Owen. “And you, sir? You have as much experience with these heathens as he does. Do you share his opinion? Should I give up my quest when I’m so close?”
“It will be a cold day in hell before I tuck tail and run from redskins. Oh, we’ll have to be on our guard. But our camp isn’t anywhere near where they’ll set up their villages. They need water, and a lot of it, and plenty of graze for their horses.” Owen motioned at the timbered hills that ringed the small valley. “We can hide right under their red noses for as long as you need.”
“I thought as much,” Keever smugly declared. “There you have it, Mr. Fargo. Stay or go. The choice is yours.” He wheeled. “Come, Gerty. We’ll wash up for supper. Rebecca, be sure our meal is prepared on time.”
Owen and Lichen and the others drifted off, leaving Fargo and Rebecca alone.
“I could have told you how he would react.”
Fargo wasn’t in the mood to mince words. “He’s a jackass. Yet you stayed with him all these years.”
“I have over twenty thousand dollars in the bank. How much do you have?”
Fargo made a zero of his thumb and forefinger. “All this money you’ve saved, was it worth it?”
Rebecca bowed her head and slowly shook it. “No. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t. Back then I thought money was everything. Now I know better. You can’t put a price on happiness.”
Fargo stared at their tent. An hour ago he wouldn’t have said what he was about to say now. “Do you still want me to do you?”
“What? Oh. I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely, but yes. Please. That is, if you want to.”
“You wear a dress, don’t you?”
“Why do you sound so mad? And why are you agreeing? Because you want to? Or to spite my poor excuse for a husband?”
“Does it matter?” Fargo stretched out his legs. “Wait until him and the brat are asleep and slip out. I’ll be waiting, and when I see you, we’ll go off into the woods.”
“Just the two of us? In the dark?”
“What did you expect? We’d take Owen or one of the others along to stand guard while I poke you?”
“Mad and bitter. You have a low tolerance for fools, don’t you? I used to before I became one myself.”
Rebecca rose and went about cooking stew for her husband and her stepdaughter. Over at the other fire, Lichen was butchering a doe someone had shot while Fargo was gone.
For Fargo’s part, he drank coffee and fumed. If it wasn’t for Rebecca, he would light a shuck then and there. He felt a twinge of conscience about Gerty. The girl was the spitting image of her father but she was young yet and didn’t know any better. Give her a few years and she might mature. Not that she would live to see old age. Not with an army of Sioux roaming the hills. She wasn’t quite old enough to make a good wife so the Lakotas were likely to leave her to die of thirst or hunger. Or maybe, if she was lucky, they’d take her under their wing.
Fargo was on his third cup of coffee when Owen came up to the fire, squatted, and smiled.
“What the hell do you want?”
“The girl is right. You are a grump.”
“Go to hell. And leave me be.”
“I didn’t walk over here to swap insults. I wanted to talk to you about the Sioux.”
“We’ve already talked. Maybe you don’t recollect, but you persuaded Keever to go on with his hunt. Nice going, buffalo shit for brains.”
Owen laughed. “If you were female, I’d swear it was your time of the month.”
“If I was a female, I’d swear you were as ugly as sin.”
Again Owen laughed but his mirth was forced. “Look, I’m trying to avoid an argument.”
“Then you came to the wrong place.” Fargo bent toward him and nearly hurled the coffee in his face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I wasn’t exaggerating. In a few days these hills will be swarming with Sioux. More of them than you can imagine.”
“I believe you.”
“There’s no way in hell we can keep hidden. They’ll find us, and when they do, every last one of us will be turned into a pincushion.”
“I agree.”
“Then why didn’t you side with me and tell the good senator to leave while he still can?” Fargo shook his head. “I swear. You make no damn sense at all.”
“I do to me.”
Fargo used a few choice words common in saloons and riverfront dives. “Explain it. Help me to savvy why you’re so bent on getting Keever and his family killed.”
“I’m not. He is. I’m just doing what he pays me to do.” Owen picked up a stick and poked at the flames. “You were hired as their guide. I was hired to advise him. He sat me down and told me exactly what he wants out of this hunt of his and offered me five hundred dollars more than any of the others to make sure he gets his wish.”
“This was before we started out?”
“Why do you sound so surprised? Some folks don’t think as poorly of me as you do.”
“I heard about that dog you dragged to its death.”
“Oh, hell. Did you also hear tell it was going around biting horses? Caused one to spook and throw a man.”
“So you’re a saint now.”
“Hell, no. I’m a man doing a job. Same as you. And need I remind you that I saved your hash back at the bluff?”
“You came over just to tell me all this?” God, what Fargo wouldn
’t give for a whiskey.
“No. I came over to say that if you want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you. But I hope you stick around. There’s the senator’s missus and the girl to think of.”
“Now I’ve heard everything. A saint and a heart of gold. Next you’ll sprout wings and a halo.”
Owen frowned. “You try to be nice to some folks.” He stood. “Have it your way. If you want to stay, stay. Just do the rest of us a favor and don’t air your bladder about the Sioux.” Wheeling, he walked away.
Fargo scratched his head in mild bewilderment. Nothing added up. No one was as they seemed except for Gerty, who looked like a spoiled brat and acted like a spoiled brat. Rebecca played the part of the devoted wife but she was anything but. As for Senator Keever, he was supposed to be a conscientious public servant who never put his own interests first, but that was all he ever did. “It’s a damn ridiculous world.”
Supper was served. Fargo kept to himself, sipping coffee. After the meal everyone sat around relaxing. Then one by one they turned in. The wind picked up, the stars shifted, and presently everyone was asleep except the two night sentries.
And Fargo. From under his hat brim he watched the tent. He was on his side, his blankets up to his chin. He wondered if Rebecca would go through with it. She stood to lose all the money Keever was paying her if he found out she was playing around on him. But then again, maybe Keever didn’t expect her to be a nun, or just didn’t care.
Midnight came and went and Fargo had about given it up as a lost cause when the tent flap parted and Rebecca poked her head out. She glanced toward the sentries, then quietly opened the flap and quickly slipped off into the shroud of darkness. A blue silken robe clung to her shapely form like skin.
The sight of it sparked a hunger in Fargo to see more. Rolling onto his back, Fargo mumbled as might a man in his sleep. He saw both sentries over by the horse string, talking. Slowly easing from under his blanket, he slid his saddlebags underneath and fluffed the blanket to lend the illusion he was still under it. Then he removed his hat and placed it where his head would be. It wouldn’t stand close scrutiny but he counted on the sentries not paying much attention to the sleepers.
Crabbing backward until he was mantled in ink, Fargo rose and moved beyond the ring of firelight. A shadow separated from deeper shadows, and suddenly Rebecca was clinging to him, her cheek on his shoulder.
“What’s the matter?” Fargo whispered.
Rebecca looked up, her face pale and lovely in the starlight. “I was scared. I’m not used to the wilds like you are.”
“What were you scared of?”
“I kept hearing sounds.”
Fargo heard sounds, too: coyotes, wolves, owls, the bleat of a doe, the snarl of a mountain lion. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not afraid now that you’re here.” Rebecca hesitated. “But you don’t think any Sioux are around, do you?”
“No.”
“That’s a relief. I don’t mind admitting they terrify me. I would hate to end up in some buck’s lodge.”
To shut her up Fargo kissed her, mashing his lips against hers. She tasted like cherries with a hint of mint. The fragrance she had splashed on was intoxicating.
“Oh, my,” Rebecca whispered when he broke for breath. “But must you be so rough?”
Fargo grinned. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
10
Fargo went to kiss Rebecca again but she put a hand to his chest and nervously glanced toward camp.
“Not this close. Someone might hear us.”
Fargo couldn’t see how, since most were asleep. But he took her hand and moved deeper into the dark.
“Let’s not go too far,” Rebecca whispered. “I want to be able to see the fires.”
“Make up your mind.”
Sixty feet from their camp, Fargo stopped and pressed Rebecca against a tree. She responded to his kiss but her body was tense and stiff. “What is it now?”
“I’m nervous, I guess.” Rebecca looked anxiously about as if she expected a shrieking warrior to come rushing out.
“Relax. We’re safe. The Sioux stick close to their lodges at night.” Fargo didn’t add, “except when war parties go on raids.”
“You’re sure? What about bears? Or cougars?” Rebecca swallowed. “I don’t like these hills at night. I don’t like them at all.”
Fargo ran his fingers through her hair and placed his other hand on her hip. “Animals won’t come this near to fire,” he assured her, which wasn’t entirely true. A bear might, out of hunger or curiosity. A cougar might, too, if it caught the scent of the horses.
“If you’re sure,” Rebecca said uncertainly.
Fargo sensed she might change her mind. To prevent that from happening, and to take her mind off what might be lurking in the dark, he cupped her breast while at the same time he slid his other hand between her thighs. She stiffened, and gasped.
Gradually, Rebecca relaxed. Her body molded to his. Her kisses became delicious wellsprings of passion. She sucked on his tongue. She ground against him. Her fingernails scraped his skin.
Fargo relaxed, too. Making love to women had long been a favorite pastime. He would rather poke a willing filly than do just about anything else. He liked it so much that when he went without for more than a week or two, the need built in him until he was fit to explode.
Fargo never could savvy men who swore off women, whatever their reasons. Priests, for instance. Or those who were content with a poke a month, if that. It had surprised him considerably when it dawned on him years back that some men didn’t feel the same need he did. For him, the treats a woman offered were a slice of the best the pie of life had to offer, and any gent who didn’t care for a taste must not have any taste buds.
Fargo thought of that now as Rebecca continued to warm to their caresses. She pried at his shirt and his belt to get at his pants. He helped, and presently his gun belt was on the ground and his pants were down around his knees. His manhood had become a rigid pole. He shivered when she lightly clasped him and commenced to stroke. He thought he would explode when she cupped him but he was able to contain himself.
Fargo got her robe undone and delved into her charms with ardent zest. He licked her neck. He sucked and nipped an earlobe. He traced the tip of his tongue from her throat to between her breasts and then to a nipple. Inhaling it, he swirled it with his tongue and it became a rigid tack. She groaned when he cupped her other breast. Her hips thrust hard against his member. It was plain her fruit was ripe for the plucking.
Fargo lathered her tummy and stuck his tongue into her navel. He ran his hand from her knees to the junction of her legs. She was burning hot for him. She was wet, too, as he found out when he parted her nether lips with the tip of a finger and ran it over her tiny knob.
Rebecca arched her back. She mewed. Her whole body melted against him in wanton need.
“I’ve wanted it for so long.”
It reminded Fargo of her claim that she hadn’t enjoyed much in the way of lovemaking for the past thirteen years. He suspected she wasn’t telling the truth, but it was hardly worth bringing up, and definitely not then and there.
Fargo slid a finger into her velvet sheath. He stroked her, and her inner walls rippled. He added a second finger and stroked harder. It aroused her no end; she became an inferno of desire, her lips and hands everywhere.
Fargo drifted on tides of lust until he reached the point where he couldn’t wait any longer; he parted her thighs, rubbed the tip of his manhood on her slit, and rammed up into her. Her mouth parted wide and for a moment he thought she would cry out but instead she sank her teeth into his shoulder hard enough for it to hurt.
Fargo devoted his hands to her breasts and his mouth to hers. For a long while he was content to slowly thrust. But as their mutual need mounted and she cooed and squirmed and moaned, he couldn’t hold back. He pumped his hips harder and faster and she pumped hers in kind.
The woods blurred.
The stars receded. Fargo felt his need to release build and build. Then she gushed and writhed in ecstasy, and it triggered his own explosion. For a while he lost all sense of time, all sense of anything save the addicting pulse of pure pleasure.
The yip of a coyote brought Fargo back to the here and now. He pulled up his pants and strapped on his Colt while she wrapped her robe around herself, and coyly smiled.
“That was wonderful. Thank you.”
Fargo grunted.
“Was it good for you? I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience so I don’t know if I pleased you or not.”
“Cut it out,” Fargo said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re not the poor deprived woman you make yourself out to be. Do me a favor and don’t think I’m dumb enough to think you are.”
Rebecca frowned. “So you have me all figured out, is that it? I’ve got news for you. You don’t have anyone figured out. Not me. Not Fulton. Not even little Gerty.”
“If you say so.” That she was so prickly about his remark proved to Fargo he had struck a nerve.
“I know so. Take Fulton, for instance. Do you really think he came all this way to hunt buffalo and bear?”
“Not just any buff or griz. He’s after the biggest, the best, to hang on his trophy wall.”
“He has you hoodwinked.”
Fargo couldn’t see how. Senator Keever was paying him good money—paying Owen and Lichen and the others, too—and had spent a lot more on horses and supplies and ammunition. If he wasn’t there to hunt, he was putting on a good show. “I’m thickheaded. You need to spell it out.”
“I don’t know as I will,” Rebecca said tartly. “Not after that crack you just made.”
“I was only saying.”
“I never claimed to be a virginal maiden. I only said I don’t get to do it as often as I’d like.”
“You’re making a fuss over nothing,” Fargo said, and knew it was a mistake the moment the words were out of his mouth.
“Oh, really? I trusted you, I confided in you, I gave myself to you, and it’s nothing? You don’t care how miserable I’ve been? How very lonely?”