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floating in a sea of pain. He hurt everywhere. From his hair to his toes, every inch of him was in torment. Gradually the pain lessened to where he became conscious that he was conscious, that he was lying on his back on something soft, and that, oddly, he could smell lilacs.
    Fargo opened his eyes. The right one worked as it should but the left eye was swollen half shut. Above him spread a flowered canopy. He was in a four-poster bed in a nicely furnished bedroom. The pink walls and pink quilt hinted at the gender of the owner. He licked his lips and found the lower lip puffy.
    Fargo raised his right arm. His hand had swelled and his knuckles were scraped raw. Someone had cleaned up the blood and applied ointment to each knuckle.
    A blanket covered him to his chest. Fargo did not need to lift it to tell he was naked. He went to sit up but his ribs protested and his head began to throb so he eased back down. He summed up the state of affairs with a heartfelt, “Damn.”
    Not five seconds later the bedroom door opened and in swept a lovely blond vision with emerald green eyes and full strawberry lips, wearing a light green dress that swished with each stride of her long legs. “I thought I heard you say something. Good morning.”
    â€œI was out all night?”
    â€œYou have been unconscious for three days, Mr. Fargo. For a while it was nip and tuck, and I feared I would lose you.” The blond vision had a radiant smile. “I am Sally Brook, by the way.”
    â€œI know,” Fargo said. “Thaddeus Thompson told me about you.”
    â€œAh,” Sally said. “And Mike Durn told me a lot about you, but not why he had you beaten and thrown into the street.”
    â€œThe street?” Fargo repeated.
    Sally nodded. “That is where I found you. No one else would go near you, so great is their fear of Durn. I took it on myself to bring you home and nurse you back to health.”
    â€œI am obliged,” Fargo said. Not many people would put themselves out for a stranger as she had done.
    â€œMy motive is not entirely charitable,” Sally Brook said. “From what I gather, you are Mike Durn’s enemy.”
    â€œAfter what he has done, it will be him or me,” Fargo said.
    â€œI am his enemy, too,” Sally said, “in that I have been trying my utmost to stop his trafficking in Indian girls. They are brought to his place against their will and degraded in ways I can only describe as despicable.” She caught herself. “What am I thinking? Enough about my crusade. You must be famished. I was only able to get a little food and water into you while you were out.”
    The mention caused Fargo’s stomach to rumble. “I reckon I am starved,” he admitted. “But there are things I need to know first.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œFor starters, my horse,” Fargo said. “Did you see an Ovaro out front of the saloon?”
    â€œI am afraid I do not know a lot about horses,” Sally said. “But if by Ovaro you mean a black and white stallion, it was nuzzling you when I first saw you. I assumed it must be yours, and sure enough, Kutler came out of the Whiskey Mill and confirmed it.”
    â€œDid he say anything else?”
    â€œOnly that you were a fool to buck Mike Durn, and that I was a fool not to accept Durn’s long-standing invitation to supper. All that while he helped me drape you over your saddle.” Sally indicated a window to his left. “Your horse is out back. Don’t worry. My yard is fenced so he can’t wander off.”
    â€œMore to be obliged for,” Fargo said.
    â€œSave your thanks. When you hear what I have in mind, you might not be so grateful.”
    â€œCare to give me a clue?”
    â€œLet’s just say that since we share a common enemy, we should work together for the common good.” Sally Brook put a hand to his forehead. “Your fever is down. I will bring