forming under him.
Kneeling, Fargo said, “Can you hear me? Can you talk?”
Tobacco Man went on quaking and shaking.
“It was you who shot Emmett, wasn’t it?” Fargo gripped his arm. “Who hired you and your partner?”
A strangled whine issued from Tobacco Man’s ravaged throat. He tried to speak but all that came out of his mouth was more blood.
“Who hired you?” Fargo asked again, and shook him.
The man looked up. His mouth moved but all he uttered were moans. Abruptly arching into a bow, Tobacco Man gave a last gasp and was still.
Fargo rose and kicked the ground. If not for the brother and sister, he would have had the information he wanted. He supposed he should be glad that one of the killers had been disposed of but he would much rather know who was behind it.
Once again hooves pounded and Fargo turned up the trail as Samantha and Charles Clyborn and two servants trotted into sight. They didn’t draw rein until they were practically on top of him.
“Who’s that?” were the first words out of Charles’s mouth.
“The man who shot your brother.”
Charles bent low. “I have a feeling I should know him from somewhere but I can’t remember where.”
“Of course you should,” Samantha said. “He lives on the outskirts of Hannibal. His name is Bucklin Anders. He got into trouble for poaching. The Hannibal Journal had the story.”
“That was over a year ago,” Charles marveled. “How can you remember something so unimportant from that far back?”
“I remember everything.”
Charles turned to Fargo. “Congratulations. You’ve avenged my brother and saved the rest of us from a bullet in the back. You have my deepest gratitude.”
“Mine as well,” Samantha said.
Fargo started to tell them that he hadn’t killed Anders, that it had been the brother and sister who tried to kill him on the steamboat. But he didn’t. For a reason that even he couldn’t explain, he decided not to. Instead he said, “You came back to find me?”
Samantha nodded. “I noticed you were missing and asked Roland where you got to. He told me about you riding off the trail. It wasn’t hard to deduce what you were up to.”
“You took a risk riding back.” Fargo smiled up at her. “I didn’t know you cared all that much.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Samantha gave orders to the servants and they climbed down to tend to the body.
Fargo put a hand on her leg. “I’d like to repay you for being so concerned about me.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Samantha sniffed. “And I’ll thank you to take your fingers off my person.”
Chuckling, Fargo did as he was bid but he contrived to run his hand from her knee to her ankle before doing so. “Nice dress,” he said.
“I should shoot you.”
“I can’t help you in the hunt if I’m dead.”
Despite herself, Samantha chuckled. “I’m beginning to regret sending for you. Your reputation as a woman-chaser doesn’t do you justice. You’re worse than that. You’re a satyr. Part randy man and part randy goat.”
Charles had climbed down and was going through Bucklin Anders’s pockets. “My Lord, this man stinks. Didn’t he ever hear of lye soap and water?” He found a cowhide poke and opened the drawstring. “Will you look at this? There must be five hundred dollars or better.”
“Blood money,” Samantha guessed.
“He have any friends that you know of?” Fargo asked.
“I never met the man so I couldn’t say.”
“I have no doubt that if he did they are as big an offense to the human nose as he was,” Charles said. He pulled a handkerchief out and covered the lower half of his face. “This is the first instance I’ve come across where a man smells worse before he’s buried than he will after.”
“Quit exaggerating,” Samantha chided.
Fargo headed back down the trail to claim the Ovaro. The shadow he acquired this time had four legs and a tail with a lovely in blue on top. “Want something?”
“Can I trust you,
Kneeling, Fargo said, “Can you hear me? Can you talk?”
Tobacco Man went on quaking and shaking.
“It was you who shot Emmett, wasn’t it?” Fargo gripped his arm. “Who hired you and your partner?”
A strangled whine issued from Tobacco Man’s ravaged throat. He tried to speak but all that came out of his mouth was more blood.
“Who hired you?” Fargo asked again, and shook him.
The man looked up. His mouth moved but all he uttered were moans. Abruptly arching into a bow, Tobacco Man gave a last gasp and was still.
Fargo rose and kicked the ground. If not for the brother and sister, he would have had the information he wanted. He supposed he should be glad that one of the killers had been disposed of but he would much rather know who was behind it.
Once again hooves pounded and Fargo turned up the trail as Samantha and Charles Clyborn and two servants trotted into sight. They didn’t draw rein until they were practically on top of him.
“Who’s that?” were the first words out of Charles’s mouth.
“The man who shot your brother.”
Charles bent low. “I have a feeling I should know him from somewhere but I can’t remember where.”
“Of course you should,” Samantha said. “He lives on the outskirts of Hannibal. His name is Bucklin Anders. He got into trouble for poaching. The Hannibal Journal had the story.”
“That was over a year ago,” Charles marveled. “How can you remember something so unimportant from that far back?”
“I remember everything.”
Charles turned to Fargo. “Congratulations. You’ve avenged my brother and saved the rest of us from a bullet in the back. You have my deepest gratitude.”
“Mine as well,” Samantha said.
Fargo started to tell them that he hadn’t killed Anders, that it had been the brother and sister who tried to kill him on the steamboat. But he didn’t. For a reason that even he couldn’t explain, he decided not to. Instead he said, “You came back to find me?”
Samantha nodded. “I noticed you were missing and asked Roland where you got to. He told me about you riding off the trail. It wasn’t hard to deduce what you were up to.”
“You took a risk riding back.” Fargo smiled up at her. “I didn’t know you cared all that much.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Samantha gave orders to the servants and they climbed down to tend to the body.
Fargo put a hand on her leg. “I’d like to repay you for being so concerned about me.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Samantha sniffed. “And I’ll thank you to take your fingers off my person.”
Chuckling, Fargo did as he was bid but he contrived to run his hand from her knee to her ankle before doing so. “Nice dress,” he said.
“I should shoot you.”
“I can’t help you in the hunt if I’m dead.”
Despite herself, Samantha chuckled. “I’m beginning to regret sending for you. Your reputation as a woman-chaser doesn’t do you justice. You’re worse than that. You’re a satyr. Part randy man and part randy goat.”
Charles had climbed down and was going through Bucklin Anders’s pockets. “My Lord, this man stinks. Didn’t he ever hear of lye soap and water?” He found a cowhide poke and opened the drawstring. “Will you look at this? There must be five hundred dollars or better.”
“Blood money,” Samantha guessed.
“He have any friends that you know of?” Fargo asked.
“I never met the man so I couldn’t say.”
“I have no doubt that if he did they are as big an offense to the human nose as he was,” Charles said. He pulled a handkerchief out and covered the lower half of his face. “This is the first instance I’ve come across where a man smells worse before he’s buried than he will after.”
“Quit exaggerating,” Samantha chided.
Fargo headed back down the trail to claim the Ovaro. The shadow he acquired this time had four legs and a tail with a lovely in blue on top. “Want something?”
“Can I trust you,
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