Trailsman #377 : Bounty Hunt (9781101604007)

by Sharpe, Jon

  Fargo dodged.

  Tassy’s fury was a sight to behold. She was beside herself, her eyes flames of hate, her teeth bared like a rabid animal’s.

  Fargo was lucky in one respect. She had no skill at knife-fighting. Where a seasoned fighter would have gone for his vitals with quick stabs that would be hard to block or evade, she came at him like a windmill gone berserk. She slashed high, she slashed low. She tried to kick him in the knee to slow him.

  Fargo felt his back hit a wall. He twisted aside as the blade swept at his throat and heard it thunk into the wood. Diving, he grabbed hold of the small table by two of its legs. He turned as she did, and when she lunged, he whipped the table up and around.

  The crash was loud in the small room. It struck her on the head and the left shoulder.

  Tassy cried out and sprawled flat.

  Fargo sucked in deep breaths. He was breathing as if he had run a mile. Hunkering, he felt for a pulse. It was strong; she’d live but she had a nasty gash on her forehead, and she was bleeding.

  She still clenched the knife.

  Wresting it from her grasp, Fargo cuts strips from the bottom of her dress and bound her wrists and her ankles. He wedged the knife under his belt, moved to a pitcher on a counter, and filled a glass with water. He took a few swallows, then stood over Tassy and upended it onto her face.

  Sputtering and coughing, she opened her eyes. She tried to sit up, realized she was bound, and cursed him anew.

  Moving to a settee, Fargo sat and touched the scratch marks on his cheeks. They weren’t deep but they stung like hell.

  “Serves you right,” Tassy growled. “Wish I’d blinded you.”

  “Was that your idea of lovemaking?”

  “You bastard,” Tassy spat. “Did you think I’d let you get away with it?”

  “With screwing you?”

  “With killing Cord Blasingame!” Tassy wriggled toward him. “I’ll bite your neck open if I can reach you. So help me.”

  “Damn, woman,” Fargo said. She snapped at his leg and he kicked her in the side. “You mind explaining what this is all about?”

  “Isn’t it plain?” Tassy spat. “I won’t have you hurt Cord. It’s bad enough you’ve killed Clemens, Zeke and Barnes. They were good men.”

  “They were outlaws.”

  “They were good outlaws.”

  “Are you drunk?” Fargo asked, only half in jest, and had to jerk his legs to one side when she rammed her feet at him. “Do that once more and I’ll hit you with the table and not hold back.”

  “You would, wouldn’t you? You’re the meanest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

  “Says the bitch who tried to cut me.”

  “How many times do I have to say it? You had it coming. Riding into town like you’re God Almighty and killing my friends.”

  “Ah,” Fargo said.

  “Don’t ‘ah’ me,” Tassy said. “You have no right. Especially Cord. He’s the nicest fella I know. And yes, I’m sweet on him.”

  “I never would have guessed,” Fargo said.

  “I hate you.”

  Fargo sat back. “So Cord Blasingame is the nicest man you know?”

  “My exact words,” Tassy said with a nod, “and I stand by them.”

  “Is this the same Cord Blasingame who has a bounty on his head for killing and robbing?”

  “It is.”

  “Sure sounds like a nice gent to me.”

  “You son of a bitch. What do you know?” Tassy closed her eyes and groaned. “Damn. You have me all worked up. And my head is pounding like hell.”

  “Where’s a towel?” Fargo asked. “I’ll clean off the blood.”

  “Don’t do me no favors.”

  “I’ve already done you one,” Fargo said. “I let you live.”

  A scarlet drop trickled down Tassy’s nose to the very tip. “I can’t wait for one of the others to kill you. They’ll protect him with their lives if need be, just like me.”

  Fargo absorbed that and said, “You’re saying that the outlaws I’ve tangled with weren’t out to kill me because I’m after the bounty? They want me dead so I can’t hurt Cord?”

  “You finally caught on, you dumb bastard.”

  “Lady, one of us is loco and it’s not me.”

  Tassy was livid. She was so mad, she shook as if having a fit, then snarled, “Mark my words. All of us would die rather than let you harm him. Why do you think they follow him so devotedly? Cord Blasingame is a special human being.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention that when I catch up to him,” Fargo said.

  To his amazement she broke into tears and cried in great racking sobs, her brow pressed to the floor.

  Fargo waited for it to end. She had him puzzled and he’d like a few answers. The portrait she painted of Blasingame didn’t fit what Glenda had told him.

  Tassy wept until she was spent. She lay curled on her side and sniffled and wouldn’t look at him.

  “Can we talk?” Fargo asked.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I’m trying to savvy all this.”

  “Don’t strain that pea you use for a brain.”

  “Cord Blasingame has robbed the Meridian bank. Yes or no?”

  “His gang did, yes,” Tassy said, and sniffled some more.

  “He’s robbed stages?”

  “His gang has, yes.”

  “Why do you keeping saying his gang and not him? He’s their leader.”

  “It’s not so much he leads as they follow.”

  “That makes no kind of sense,” Fargo said. He was growing irritated.

  “It would if you knew Cord like I know him.”

  “How is that, exactly?”

  “He came into the saloon one night a few years ago and we hit it off. He wasn’t like most men. He was kind and considerate and treated me like a lady.” Tassy raised her head to glare. Her eyes were wet and puffy and snot was running from her nose. “He wasn’t at all like some men I could mention.”

  “You’re still not making sense,” Fargo said. “How can he do all that robbing and lead a pack of killers and be the nicest gent alive?”

  “I’ve said all I’m going to.” She clamped her mouth shut and averted her face.

  “Fine,” Fargo said. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. Rising, he stepped to the door.

  “Hold on, damn you,” Tassy said. “You’re not fixing to leave me trussed like this?”

  “I cut you free, you’ll grab another knife and come at me.”

  “I give you my word I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson. Believe me.”

  “I wouldn’t trust you if my life depended on it,” Fargo said, “and it does.” Taking her knife from under his belt, he set it on the floor by the door. “After I’m gone, crawl over here and cut yourself loose. It shouldn’t take more than half an hour or so.”

  “Bastard.”

  “There you go again, heaping on the sweet talk.” Fargo opened the door. “Remember. You come at me again, I won’t be as nice as your wonderful Cord.”

  “If the roof were to fall on you, I’d whoop for joy.”

  Fargo got out of there. He stood out in the street, contemplating, and finally bent his boots to the marshal’s office.

  Theodore Cripdin was behind his desk, writing. He looked up as the door opened and snapped, “What the hell do you want?”

  “I sure am popular,” Fargo said.

  “Not with me you’re not. Not after how you treated me. Get out of my office before I throw you out.”

  Fargo sat on the edge of the lawman’s desk. “Tell me about Cord Blasingame.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “How nice is he?”

  Cripdin blinked
and set down his pencil. “Who have you been talking to? He doesn’t like that to get around.”

  “Has he or has he not killed people?”

  “He hasn’t.”

  Fargo was good at reading people. He had to be, as much poker as he played. And his instincts told him the marshal was telling the truth. “Has he or has he not robbed people?”

  “Sort of,” Cripdin said.

  “How the hell do you ‘sort of’ rob somebody?”

  “His men did the robbing. He just rode along with them.”

  “But they’re his men?”

  “Sort of. They follow him.”

  “Is everyone in this damn town short of common sense?” Fargo stood and leaned on the desk. “I want the truth about why you were following me this morning. Were you really out to keep his men from hurting me?”

  Cripdin folded his hands and shook his head. “I reckon I might as well own up to it. No, I wasn’t out to keep them from hurting you.” He paused. “I was out to keep you from hurting him.”

  12

  The marshal refused to say any more so Fargo left. He needed a drink. He went to the Ace’s High and bought another bottle. As the bartender placed it in front of him he said, “I’d like to ask you a question.”

  The barkeep was rake thin and mostly bald and liked to chew on toothpicks. “So long as it’s not personal, go ahead.”

  “Cord Blasingame.”

  “I hear tell you’re huntin’ him.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “I’ve served him drinks right where you’re standin’.”

  “What kind of man is he?”

  The barman scrunched up his face in thought and answered, “The salt of the earth.”

  “He’s an outlaw.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean he’s bad or mean or anything. Truth is, if he wasn’t an outlaw, he’d make a damn fine parson, he’s so nice.”

  “There’s that word again,” Fargo said in disgust.

  “I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” the bartender said. “You asked.”

  Fargo paid and gripped the bottle by the neck and started to turn.

  “I will tell you this, mister,” the man said. “You harm a hair on his head and some folks in these parts will want to take you out and string you up.”

  Fargo wasn’t in the best of moods as he climbed on the Ovaro and rode up the street to the Hemmingses’. He noticed people staring and their looks weren’t friendly.

  He rode around to the back of the house and looped the reins in the fence. Striding to the back door, he entered without knocking.

  Glenda was at the stove, stirring a large pot. “You’re back!” she exclaimed. “How did it go today? Did you find any sign of Cord?”

  Fargo pulled out a chair and sat at the table. He opened the bottle, swallowed, and coughed. “You were his wife?”

  Glenda stopped stirring. “I’ve already told you that. So?”

  “For how long?”

  “Let’s see. He left me about five years ago so I guess we were married pretty near sixteen. Why?”

  “You must know him really well,” Fargo said.

  “Better than anyone, I’d imagine,” Glenda boasted. “Again, why do you ask?”

  “What kind of man is he?”

  “He’s the meanest bastard who ever drew breath,” Glenda declared. “He has a heart of ice and the temperament of a wolf.”

  Fargo stared.

  “What?” Glenda asked. “If you don’t mind my saying, you’re acting strangely.”

  “Care for a drink?” Fargo said, and wagged the bottle.

  Glenda hesitated, but only for a few moments. Stepping to a cupboard, she took down a glass and came over. She poured, filling the glass about a third fill. “I don’t usually drink this time of the day.” Her sip barely wet her lips.

  “Where are your girls?”

  “We needed a few groceries so I sent them shopping.”

  Glenda indicated the pot. “We’re having stew for supper, if that’s all right.”

  “Food is food,” Fargo said. When he’d lived with the Sioux and stayed with other tribes, he’d eaten things that most whites would turn up their noses at.

  “I’ve baked a pie for dessert.”

  Fargo thought he’d smelled baked apples. “I’ll be leaving again tomorrow,” he announced. “To go up into the mountains. I might be gone for several days.”

  “You’ll take us with you so we can be the bait?”

  “No.”

  “How will you find him? It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Why not wait until Cord robs somebody and pick up his trail then?”

  “I want to look around,” Fargo said. “Get the lay of the land.” He’d never been to the Shadow Mountains before, whereas Blasingame must know them like the back of his hand.

  “That makes sense, I suppose,” Glenda said. “But you be careful. Anything happens to you, I lose my half of the bounty money.”

  “It’s nice to know you care,” Fargo said dryly.

  “I like you. I truly do. But make no mistake. This is a business arrangement. We’re in this together for the money.”

  “I’d almost forgotten,” Fargo said.

  “How can you forget five thousand dollars? For me it will be a dream come true. No more scraping by for me and my girls.”

  “Did Cord treat you decent?” Fargo bluntly asked.

  Glenda pursed her lips. “That’s a peculiar thing to want to know. But yes, I’d say the early years of our marriage, he did. We got along really well until right before the end. Which is why I was so shocked when he walked out.”

  “But you just said he’s the meanest bastard alive.”

  “For walking out on me, he is. For deserting his own children.” Glenda swirled the whiskey in her glass. “Only a man with a heart of ice could do that.”

  Fargo grunted. Something wasn’t adding up.

  “I wish you’d reconsider about taking us along. It will draw him in as surely as anything.”

  “It could get you and your girls killed.”

  “Cord would never harm a hair on our heads. I’d feel perfectly safe.”

  “Even though he’s the meanest bastard who ever drew breath?”

  “Why are you harping on that? He’s not like most people. He’s . . . complicated.”

  “He’s something,” Fargo said.

  Voices and laughter peeled at the front of the house, and down the hall came Jennifer and Constance. Glenda rose to greet them and relieve them of the groceries.

  Jennifer came over and with her back to her mother and sister, puckered her lips as if kissing him. “How has your day been, Mr. Fargo?”

  “Complicated,” Fargo said.

  “Would you care to see the town with me? I’d like to go for a stroll.”

  “Don’t bother him, dear,” Glenda said. “He’s been off most of the day and must be tired.”

  “Are you too tired to . . . stroll?” Jennifer asked, and only Fargo saw her glance at his crotch and the carnal gleam that came into her pretty eyes.

  “I’m never too tired for that. If your mother doesn’t mind.”

  Glenda was opening a container of salt. “No, I guess not. There’s not much left to fix for supper. Be back here in half an hour, you hear?”

  “I’d like to go,” Constance said.

  “And leave your poor mother to finish getting the meal ready on her own?” Glenda said. “But very well. It isn’t fair that Jennifer gets to and you don’t.”

  Jennifer frowned. “Sure, sis. Come along.”

  The street was quiet at that time of the day. Most women were home doing what Glenda was doing. Most men were getting ready to close their bus
inesses as soon as the sun went down.

  Several of the people who were out and about gave Fargo the look he’d been getting all day. He didn’t care. He ambled along with the girls on either side of him.

  Jennifer noticed the stares and along about the third time she remarked, “You don’t seem to be very popular.”

  “Your father is,” Fargo said.

  Constance brightened. “People always take to him. He has a way about him.”

  “When he’s not robbing banks and stages.”

  “Even then. He’s always been very well liked. He once told me that he had so many friends, he couldn’t count them all.”

  “The hell you say,” Fargo said.

  “What’s wrong?” Constance asked.

  “How do you two feel about me going after him?”

  The sisters glanced at one another and Jennifer answered, “We argued with Mother about it.”

  “We never wanted to come here in the first place,” Constance said. “She should leave him be.”

  “She wants the money,” Jennifer said.

  “And you two don’t?”

  Constance fiddled with her sleeve. “It would be nice to have some for a change. I won’t deny that. But not if it means Father ends up behind bars for the rest of his days.”

  “We want to talk to you about that,” Jennifer said. “The bounty is for dead or alive. We’d like that you not kill him.”

  Constance nodded. “Please, Mr. Fargo. Bring him back alive, for our sakes.”

  “It would crush us having to bury him,” Jennifer said. “And you owe me a favor.”

  “He does?” Constance said.

  “I do?” Fargo echoed.

  Her hand at her side where her sister couldn’t see, Jennifer brushed her fingers across Fargo’s. “I kept you company when you couldn’t sleep, remember?”

  “You did what?” Constance said.

  “That should count for something,” Jennifer said.

  “I’ll be damned,” Fargo said. Here he’d thought she just wanted to make love.

  “So will you?” Jennifer asked. “Spare him? Bring him back as your prisoner and not draped over a saddle?”

  “I can’t make any promises,” Fargo said. “He might not give me a choice.”

  “Oh, Father would never try to hurt you,” Jennifer said.