by Jon Sharpe
‘‘I guess you must’ve heard the shots when that sentry first opened up on me.’’
‘‘Yeah. I circled back and got there in time to see Rafferty taking you back to the hideout. He didn’t see me, though. Not then, and not later when he came lookin’ for me.’’
‘‘You’ve always been pretty good about slipping away, haven’t you, Billy?’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ Billy replied, then looked over at Fargo and frowned. ‘‘What do you mean by that, Skye?’’
‘‘Your horse wasn’t even lame, was it? You pretended to find a rock in its shoe and gouged its foot just enough with your knife to make it limp for a little while. Seems to be in pretty good shape now, though.’’
Billy’s frown darkened until it was almost as black as the smoke still climbing into the sky behind the two men. ‘‘What the hell are you sayin’, Skye? I don’t think I like it.’’
‘‘You didn’t want to find that bunch,’’ Fargo said, ‘‘but you couldn’t think of any way out of going along with me when I started trailing them. You sure didn’t want to cross paths with Rafferty again, though. Not after you double-crossed him and made off with his share of the profits from that whiskey-smuggling operation, as well as your own.’’
Billy gave a hollow laugh. ‘‘Is that what he told you? Hell, Skye, that’s crazy! You know I’m not a whiskey runner.’’
‘‘You know Rafferty, and you know an awful lot about what was going on back there.’’ Fargo couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.
‘‘In case you forgot,’’ Billy said tightly, ‘‘I just saved your hide back there—again!’’
‘‘I know,’’ Fargo said. ‘‘And I appreciate it. That’s why I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and waiting for you to explain what in blazes is going on around here.’’
‘‘Damn it.’’ Billy lifted a hand and wearily rubbed his face. ‘‘I didn’t mean for things to get so mixed up. I really didn’t.’’
‘‘What’s Rafferty got to do with those missing girls?’’
Billy shook his head. ‘‘Not a blasted thing. When I wrote to you, Skye, it was because folks around here really needed your help. It didn’t have anything to do with bringing whiskey into the territory. That’s a business that Rafferty and I set up a while back. I didn’t want you mixed up in it. I just wanted you to find out who’s been kidnapping girls and young women from around here.’’ Billy closed his eyes, put a hand to his temple, and shook his head. ‘‘Wa-nee-sha wasn’t even missing then. I swear, Skye, if I had anything to do with that, do you think I would have put my own sister in danger?’’
Fargo didn’t say anything for a long moment, but finally he nodded and said, ‘‘I reckon I believe you about that part of it, Billy. Now tell me the rest of it.’’
‘‘About the whiskey running, you mean?’’ Billy laughed, but the sound didn’t have any humor in it. ‘‘What else was I gonna do, work on the farm? With this bum leg of mine, the army didn’t want me as a scout anymore, and I can’t carry my weight around the place. My pa and Charley have to do most of the work.’’
‘‘I thought it was your decision to stop scouting for the army.’’
‘‘Not really. I can’t spend days in the saddle anymore. I wouldn’t be any good on a long campaign. Just the riding we’ve done has been enough to get it to hurting pretty bad.’’
Fargo frowned. Billy had suffered that injury saving his life, and now it sounded like Billy was trying to make him feel guilty about it. Fargo appreciated what Billy had done, not only a couple of years earlier but also in getting him away from the gang of whiskey smugglers today. He would have risked his own life to save Billy’s without a second thought, even now.
But he didn’t like the idea of Billy trying to trade on that old debt or playing on his sympathies. Friends didn’t do that.
‘‘So you and Rafferty got together and decided to smuggle whiskey into the Nations,’’ Fargo said.
‘‘Yeah.’’ For a second, Billy’s usual cocksure grin returned. ‘‘Made a heap of money at it, too.’’
‘‘Which you then turned around and stole from Rafferty.’’
‘‘He doesn’t have any proof I took it!’’
Fargo took note of the fact that Billy wasn’t denying the theft, just claiming that Rafferty couldn’t prove he had done it.
‘‘I decided I wanted out,’’ Billy went on. ‘‘To tell you the truth, Skye, I saw what that whiskey was doing to some of the fellas we sold it to, and I didn’t like it. My people have a hard enough row to hoe without being drunks.’’
‘‘Noble of you,’’ Fargo said coolly.
Billy flushed with anger. ‘‘Maybe you don’t believe it, but it’s true. I told Rafferty it was over, that we were gonna close everything down. He wouldn’t go along with that. Threatened to kill me if I backed out of the deal.’’
‘‘So you made him even fonder of you by stealing his share of the loot.’’
‘‘I should’ve had a bigger share by rights!’’ Billy protested. ‘‘It was my idea to start with. I’m a mite ashamed of that now, but fair’s fair. I didn’t take all the money, just what I had comin’ to me.’’
Fargo shook his head. Billy had changed in the time since Fargo had seen him last. Or maybe he hadn’t. You could ride some hard, lonely trails with a man, even go into battle alongside him, without truly knowing him. Nobody ever really knew what was inside the other hombre’s brain and heart and soul.
‘‘I want to clear up a couple more things,’’ he said. ‘‘Those night riders I’ve heard about . . . that was Rafferty’s bunch?’’
Billy nodded. ‘‘Yeah. They always made their whiskey deliveries at night.’’
‘‘But they’re not the ones stealing the girls, even though everybody around here thinks they’re to blame?’’
‘‘That’s right.’’
‘‘And earlier this afternoon, you lamed your own horse because you didn’t want to be with me when I ran into Rafferty and the rest of the gang.’’
‘‘You’re determined to make me admit that, aren’t you?’’ Billy sighed. ‘‘All right. Yeah, I did it. I couldn’t think of what else to do. I’m ashamed of it now, but I was scared. After Rafferty attacked the farm yesterday, I knew he wouldn’t stop at anything to get what he wanted.’’
‘‘They were just trying to throw a scare into you, right? So that maybe you’d give back the money you stole?’’
Billy didn’t even bother trying to rationalize it this time. ‘‘That’s the way I figure it,’’ he said. ‘‘They could’ve killed me and Charley while we were outside if they really wanted to. That was just Rafferty’s way of tellin’ me that he meant business.’’ Billy looked back. The Canadian River was several miles behind them by now, and the smoke was no longer visible. The fire had probably burned itself out as soon as the flames consumed all the whiskey. ‘‘Well, he’s out of business now, I reckon. We can forget about him and concentrate on finding those missing girls, including my sister.’’
‘‘Maybe that’s the way you hoped it would turn out,’’ Fargo mused. ‘‘Half that bluff fell on Rafferty, so you don’t have to worry about him anymore.’’
‘‘Are you sayin’ I sent you after him to get rid of him and take care of my problem for me?’’
Fargo shrugged. ‘‘Somebody might think that.’’
Billy reined in sharply and said, ‘‘Damn it, Skye, I came back to help you. I could’ve just kept goin’. And you were tied up when I dropped that bundle of powder in the wagon. I saved you.’’
‘‘There’s no denying it worked out that way,’’ Fargo admitted. ‘‘You saved my bacon, Billy. I’m obliged to you for that.’’
‘‘Help me find Wa-nee-sha and those other girls, and we’ll call it square.’’
‘‘I always intended to help you find your sister,’’ Fargo said. ‘‘Nothing that’s happened today has changed that.’’
They rode on as an uncomfortabl
e silence descended between them. Now that Fargo had found out more about Billy, he didn’t much like being in his debt. He was, though, and there was nothing he could do about it except try to square things.
After a while, Fargo said, ‘‘Everybody I saw in Rafferty’s bunch was Seminole.’’
‘‘Yeah. After the way the government’s treated us, especially lettin’ the Creeks lord it over us like they did, you won’t find many people around here who are worried too much about breakin’ the law. What about it?’’
‘‘That hombre who took a shot at me yesterday when I first met Charley had red hair and freckles. He didn’t look like any Indian I ever saw.’’
Billy shook his head. ‘‘I don’t know who he was, but I can tell you that he wasn’t one of Rafferty’s bunch. We didn’t have any white men working with us except the ones who supplied the whiskey in Fort Smith, and none of them had red hair. I’m sure of that.’’
‘‘Then who was he?’’
‘‘One of the bunch that’s been kidnapping those girls?’’ Billy suggested. ‘‘He could have even been one of the men who tried to grab Echo yesterday evening. You didn’t get a good look at them, did you?’’
Fargo shook his head. ‘‘Nope. She didn’t say anything about either of them being redheaded . . . but I didn’t ask her, either. So it’s possible. I’ll find out for sure the next time I talk to her.’’ Fargo thought about riding over to her parents’ farm. ‘‘Maybe tonight.’’
He hadn’t forgotten how pleasant the time he’d spent in the hayloft with Echo had been.
Now that they were no longer following the trail of the men who had attacked the farm of Cam-at-so and Mary Ann, Billy led them back to the farm by a shorter route. Still, it was late in the afternoon before they neared the place. They had been in the saddle a lot today.
When Fargo glanced over at Billy, he saw that the former scout’s face was drawn and lined with pain. That bad hip of his really did make it difficult for him to ride for a long time, Fargo decided.
‘‘I’m going to explore those hills to the west some more tomorrow,’’ he said, ‘‘but there’s no need for you to come along. Might do you some good to rest a little instead.’’
Billy’s jaw took on a stubborn set as he shook his head. ‘‘Nothing doing, Skye,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m comin’ with you. You might need a hand, and I can still fight.’’
‘‘You’re pretty good at thinking on your feet, too,’’ Fargo said. ‘‘Tossing that bomb you made into the wagon was a pretty good trick.’’
Billy smiled. ‘‘Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? Even if I do say so myself.’’
‘‘But after all the riding you’ve done today—’’
‘‘Forget it, Skye. I’m going with you tomorrow, and that’s final.’’
Fargo didn’t waste any more breath arguing. In the end, it had to be Billy’s decision.
But if Billy couldn’t keep up, Fargo would leave him behind. That would be Fargo’s decision.
They came in sight of the smoke rising from the farmhouse’s chimney. Fargo said quietly, ‘‘Before we get there, Billy . . . does your family know anything about your involvement with Rafferty?’’
Billy shook his head. ‘‘Not a thing. I’ll bet my pa wondered where I got my money sometimes—he’s a pretty canny old bird—but he never said anything.’’ He suddenly looked concerned. ‘‘You’re not gonna tell them, are you, Skye?’’
‘‘You don’t think they deserve to know who was shooting at them yesterday evening, and why?’’
‘‘Yeah, maybe they do,’’ Billy admitted grudgingly.
‘‘You ought to be the one to tell them, though.’’ Fargo took a deep breath as he reached a decision. ‘‘I won’t say anything to them.’’
‘‘Thanks, Skye. Now I’m obliged to you.’’
That wasn’t enough to even things up between them, though, and Fargo knew it.
He suspected that Billy did, too.
A short time later, they reached the farm. As they rode toward the small cluster of buildings, someone ran out of the farmhouse. Fargo recognized Charley McCloud’s slender figure. The youngster ran toward them, and Fargo immediately sensed that Charley wasn’t just glad to see them.
‘‘Something’s wrong,’’ he said.
Billy recognized it, too. ‘‘Charley’s upset,’’ he said. He spurred forward. Fargo heeled the Ovaro into a run and quickly caught up with him.
Charley was panting and out of breath when they reached him and reined their mounts to a halt. Both men swung down from their saddles as Charley bent over, rested his hands on his knees, and gulped down air. When he looked up at them, his face was tight and drawn with fear.
‘‘She’s g-gone,’’ he managed to say. ‘‘The kidnappers got her!’’
Billy grabbed his arm and cried, ‘‘Who? Daisy?’’
Charley shook his head. ‘‘No. Echo! They got Echo, Billy!’’
6
Fargo stiffened in shock. He said to Charley, ‘‘I thought you took her back to her folks’ place this morning.’’
The youngster nodded. ‘‘I did. But she started back over here this afternoon, Mr. Fargo. That’s what her pa said. He got worried about her and rode over to make sure she got here all right, but we hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her! We backtracked and . . . and found her wagon. Somebody had rolled it off the trail and hid it in some brush. They’d cut the mules loose and let ’em wander off.’’
‘‘Get your horse and show me where you found the wagon,’’ Fargo snapped.
‘‘Wait a minute, Skye,’’ Billy said. ‘‘The sun’s almost down. You can’t track in the dark. Not even the Trailsman can do that.’’
‘‘If there’s a bright enough moon . . .’’ Fargo began. He stopped when he realized that the moon was at its thinnest stage right now. Billy was right. Not even he could read sign by starlight.
‘‘Why’d she have to come back here?’’ Billy asked with agonized worry in his voice. ‘‘What was so important she had to risk it, and why the hell did her pa let her travel by herself?’’
Charley shook his head. ‘‘I don’t know why she came, Billy. And she didn’t tell her pa she was headed over here. He was working in the fields when she left. You know how she is.’’
‘‘Yeah. Too damned headstrong for her own good.’’ Billy looked at Fargo. ‘‘What are we gonna do, Skye?’’
Fargo’s mind was a mass of anger and worry. He thought he might have an idea why Echo had decided to return to the farm. She could have wanted to see him again. Could have wanted to repeat the lovemaking they had shared the night before. And that desire could have led her into deadly danger.
He forced himself to think coolly and rationally. Stampeding off out of control wouldn’t do anybody any good. ‘‘We were going to ride over to those hills west of here tomorrow anyway,’’ he said. ‘‘Now we’ve got an even better reason to do that. If we can pick up the trail of the men who took Echo, I’m betting that’s the direction it’ll lead.’’
Billy nodded. ‘‘Yeah, I think so, too. Is Echo’s father still here?’’
Charley shook his head. ‘‘No, he went back home. He wanted to follow the trail himself, but Cam-at-so persuaded him to wait for you and Mr. Fargo, since he’s an old man. He wouldn’t stand a chance by himself against those varmints, even if he was able to find them.’’ The boy’s eyes widened as he noticed the bloody bandage tied around Billy’s arm. ‘‘What happened? Are you hurt bad, Billy?’’
‘‘This?’’ Billy looked at his arm. ‘‘It’s nothing. We ran into some fellas who took some potshots at us, that’s all.’’
‘‘Maybe they were the kidnappers?’’
Billy shook his head. ‘‘No, they weren’t. I’m sure of that. Just a bunch of no-account owlhoots—that’s all.’’
Charley frowned, clearly puzzled about how Billy could be so sure of that, but he didn’t press the issue. He just said, ‘‘Your ma’s gonna be upset that you’r
e hurt.’’
Billy managed to grin. ‘‘If Ma didn’t have anything to fuss about, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.’’
They walked on to the house, leading their horses. When they got there, Charley offered to take care of Billy’s mount for him.
‘‘I’d tend to that stallion of yours, too, Mr. Fargo,’’ the youngster said, ‘‘but to tell you the truth, he scares me a little.’’
‘‘That’s all right, Charley,’’ Fargo assured him. ‘‘I’ll take care of him. Billy, go on in and have your mother take a look at that arm. The wound needs to be cleaned out good, so it won’t fester.’’
‘‘Never knew you to be such a mother hen, Skye.’’
‘‘I owe you,’’ Fargo said bluntly. ‘‘I want to keep you around long enough so that I can square things with you.’’
He left unspoken the idea that Billy should tell his folks about what he’d been doing since he came back to Indian Territory. Even though Billy had seemed somewhat receptive to doing so, Fargo didn’t really expect him to go through with it. But one way or the other, that was up to Billy.
Fargo was a lot more worried right now about the fate of Echo McNally.
He and Charley unsaddled and rubbed down the horses, then made sure the animals had plenty of water and grain. By the time they went into the house, Mary Ann had Billy sitting in front of the fireplace with his shirt off as she cleaned the wound on his arm with warm water and a piece of cloth. As Billy had predicted, she was fussing both over and at him, worrying over the state of his wound and telling him that he shouldn’t get into situations where people were shooting at him.
Billy wore a grin on his face, but his eyes were uneasy as he glanced at Fargo, who could tell that he hadn’t said anything to his parents about the whiskey-running scheme. Fargo just shook his head. What Billy said or didn’t say to his folks was his own business from here on out. Fargo washed his hands of the matter.
Cam-at-so came over to Fargo and said, ‘‘The boy told you of Echo’s disappearance?’’