sand rather than take life as it is.”
“I suppose I gave that impression. But it was for my son’s and daughter’s benefit. The harsh realities of life will beat on them soon enough. I don’t see a reason to hurry it along.”
Fargo found himself admiring her more and more. “One face for your kids and one for the mirror?”
“Something like that, yes,” Mary answered with a grin. “You catch on quick. Are you a parent, yourself?”
“Hell, no. I’m not ready to set down roots.” Then there was the little matter of meeting the right woman.
“It’s hard, Skye. Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do, and that includes giving birth. But I wouldn’t trade being a mother for all the ill-gotten gains Cud Sten makes from his rustling and robbing.”
Fargo put a hand on the Colt. “I hope Tull has plenty of ammunition in his saddlebags.”
Those lovely emerald eyes of her narrowed. “Surely you don’t have the notion I think you’re toying with? You’re one man and he’ll have seven or eight others with him. All as vicious as Tull.”
“He’s made your life miserable long enough.”
“No, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Besides the odds, there’s the shape you’re in.”
“I can mend a lot before he gets here.”
“But why? We hardly know each other.”
“I like what I know. I like it a lot.”
“Oh.” Mary looked away. When she faced him again, there was the same question in her eyes. But she quickly recovered her composure. “You finish eating your food and I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes, Ma,” Fargo teased.
Mary laughed, the first real laugh he heard from her. She covered her mouth as if self-conscious of what she had done, then said, “You perplex me, sir. More than any man I ever met.”
“Does that include your Frank?”
“Frank was a good man. He was devoted and hardworking. A simple man, some would say.” Mary paused. “But I suspect there’s nothing simple about you. There’s nothing simple at all.”
“I’m as ordinary as water.”
Mary glanced at Tull. “Say what you will, but I know better.” She went into the bedroom and came out with a blanket. Spreading it on the floor, she rolled Tull onto it. It took some doing. She was huffing when she was done. She placed Tull’s hat on his chest and went to wrap the blanket around him.
“Wait.” Fargo had eaten enough that newfound vitality was coursing through his veins. He got up and went over and hunkered. “Waste not, want not, I’ve heard folks say.” He began to go through the dead man’s pockets.
“I should have thought of it,” Mary said.
Fargo found the usual. A pocketknife. A plug of tobacco. A crumpled letter he had no interest in. And a poke that jangled. He undid the tie string and upended the poke over the floor and out spilled double eagles and other coins and a wad of bills.
“My word, where did all that come from?”
“That rustling and robbing you were talking about, remember?” Fargo counted it. “Two hundred and forty-seven dollars.”
“That’s more than my Frank and I had at any one time in all the years we were married.”
Fargo kept the forty-seven for himself. He put the two hundred back in the poke and placed it in her hand. “Here.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
Mary stared at it and trembled slightly. “I couldn’t. It’s not right.”
“He sure as hell has no use for it.”
“But like you say, he got it by dishonest means.”
“So? If you knew where he got it from, you could give some of it back if it bothered you that much, but you don’t. And it would be stupid to let it go to waste. It’s yours, and that’s that.”
“Oh, Skye.”
A tingle ran down Fargo’s spine, startling him. “Don’t make more of it than there is,” he said more gruffly than he intended.
“Do you realize what this means for me and my children?”
Fargo patted the forty-seven dollars. “For me this means
“I suppose I gave that impression. But it was for my son’s and daughter’s benefit. The harsh realities of life will beat on them soon enough. I don’t see a reason to hurry it along.”
Fargo found himself admiring her more and more. “One face for your kids and one for the mirror?”
“Something like that, yes,” Mary answered with a grin. “You catch on quick. Are you a parent, yourself?”
“Hell, no. I’m not ready to set down roots.” Then there was the little matter of meeting the right woman.
“It’s hard, Skye. Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do, and that includes giving birth. But I wouldn’t trade being a mother for all the ill-gotten gains Cud Sten makes from his rustling and robbing.”
Fargo put a hand on the Colt. “I hope Tull has plenty of ammunition in his saddlebags.”
Those lovely emerald eyes of her narrowed. “Surely you don’t have the notion I think you’re toying with? You’re one man and he’ll have seven or eight others with him. All as vicious as Tull.”
“He’s made your life miserable long enough.”
“No, no, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Besides the odds, there’s the shape you’re in.”
“I can mend a lot before he gets here.”
“But why? We hardly know each other.”
“I like what I know. I like it a lot.”
“Oh.” Mary looked away. When she faced him again, there was the same question in her eyes. But she quickly recovered her composure. “You finish eating your food and I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes, Ma,” Fargo teased.
Mary laughed, the first real laugh he heard from her. She covered her mouth as if self-conscious of what she had done, then said, “You perplex me, sir. More than any man I ever met.”
“Does that include your Frank?”
“Frank was a good man. He was devoted and hardworking. A simple man, some would say.” Mary paused. “But I suspect there’s nothing simple about you. There’s nothing simple at all.”
“I’m as ordinary as water.”
Mary glanced at Tull. “Say what you will, but I know better.” She went into the bedroom and came out with a blanket. Spreading it on the floor, she rolled Tull onto it. It took some doing. She was huffing when she was done. She placed Tull’s hat on his chest and went to wrap the blanket around him.
“Wait.” Fargo had eaten enough that newfound vitality was coursing through his veins. He got up and went over and hunkered. “Waste not, want not, I’ve heard folks say.” He began to go through the dead man’s pockets.
“I should have thought of it,” Mary said.
Fargo found the usual. A pocketknife. A plug of tobacco. A crumpled letter he had no interest in. And a poke that jangled. He undid the tie string and upended the poke over the floor and out spilled double eagles and other coins and a wad of bills.
“My word, where did all that come from?”
“That rustling and robbing you were talking about, remember?” Fargo counted it. “Two hundred and forty-seven dollars.”
“That’s more than my Frank and I had at any one time in all the years we were married.”
Fargo kept the forty-seven for himself. He put the two hundred back in the poke and placed it in her hand. “Here.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
Mary stared at it and trembled slightly. “I couldn’t. It’s not right.”
“He sure as hell has no use for it.”
“But like you say, he got it by dishonest means.”
“So? If you knew where he got it from, you could give some of it back if it bothered you that much, but you don’t. And it would be stupid to let it go to waste. It’s yours, and that’s that.”
“Oh, Skye.”
A tingle ran down Fargo’s spine, startling him. “Don’t make more of it than there is,” he said more gruffly than he intended.
“Do you realize what this means for me and my children?”
Fargo patted the forty-seven dollars. “For me this means
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