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a poker game and a bottle of whiskey.” He unbuckled Tull’s gun belt and stripped it off. Then he wrapped the body in the blanket, stood, and took hold of the shoulders. “You get the other end and we’ll drag him out.”
    “You’re in no condition,” Mary warned. “I can do it myself.”
    “We don’t have all night. My cold soup is getting colder, and I’d like to eat a little more before I turn in.”
    Reluctantly, Mary did as he wanted. Working together they hauled the body to the front door. Fargo was caked with sweat and could barely stand, but he opened the door and helped her push the body out. When he straightened, he swayed and had to the grip the wall to stay on his feet.
    “See? I told you.” Mary stood at his side and hooked her arm around his waist. “Lean on me. I’ll get you to bed.”
    “You’ll get me to the table. I told you I’m not done eating.”
    “Why are men so stubborn?”
    “Why do women ask such silly questions?”
    Mary grinned. She pushed the door shut with her foot and helped him to the chair, then sat in the one next to him. Her chin in her hands, she regarded him thoughtfully.
    “Where will you go from here?” Fargo asked between mouthfuls. “With that money you can start a whole new life.”
    “Go? We don’t have a horse, remember? Let alone three.”
    “Cud Sten does. I’m sure he and his men have lots of horses. Enough for all of you and for pack animals to take out your pots and pans and whatnot.”
    “I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not if you’re only doing it for me. I don’t want you hurt on my account.”
    Fargo grinned a lopsided grin. “You can’t take all the credit. There’re the kids.”
    Mary looked into his eyes. “What kind of man are you?”
    “The kind who needs a lot of sleep.” Fargo’s belly was about fit to explode and his eyelids had grown heavy.
    “No. Really. I’d like to know.”
    “Hell.” Fargo sat back. “I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like every other man.”
    Mary coughed, then said softly, “Thank you.”
    “Thank me in three or four days. This Cud Sten could turn out to be as tough as you say.”
    “He is. And he’s got a man with him who is downright scary. Rika, they call him.” Mary paused. “I was thinking we would hide you.”
    “Like you did with Tull?”
    “Off in the trees. We could make you a lean-to.”
    “No.”
    “You can die, you know. Everyone will.”
    “We start dying the moment we’re born. A couple days from now or a couple years, it all ends the same.” The important thing to Fargo was that she and her kids weren’t caught in a hail of lead.
    “You worry me. You worry me considerably.”
    “Good,” Fargo said, and grinned.

8
    Fargo slept eighteen hours, and when he woke up, he was famished. He no sooner sat up than Mary entered the bedroom, smiling, and informed him she had a surprise. He thought it was the pile of clothes she had placed by the bed for him to pick from.
    His buckskins had been ripped and torn in so many places that until he got the spare set out of his saddlebags or made new ones, he had to make do with a shirt and pants that belonged to her husband. Neither fit well. The pants, in particular, were too short, and too tight at the crotch. His manhood stood out as if sculpted, which made him grin.
    His boots were okay to wear, and his gun belt was fine. The pearl-handled Colt fit nicely. Since it was the same caliber as his, he had plenty of ammunition. The Arkansas toothpick as always, went in his ankle sheath.
    He had lost his hat somewhere so he put on a floppy one Frank Harper had used. It made him look so ridiculous that he decided to go without a hat.
    Fargo stared at his image in the mirror and shook his head in amusement. He looked like he should be huddled in an alley, a wine bottle glued to his lips. His left arm and right leg were stiff from the bites, but the more he moved them, the better he felt. He practiced drawing the Colt a few times and