Read Online The Trailsman 317 by Jon Sharpe - Free Book Online

Then he gripped the feathered end, and slowly pulled the arrow out. Along with it came blood but the flow quickly dwindled to a trickle. “Hurts a mite,” he grunted.
    â€œYou handle pain remarkably well,” Mabel said.
    Skagg gave her a pointed look, his brow knit as if he were puzzled. “A little nick like this is nothing to get upset about.” He threw the arrow down and pressed his hand to his side. “But I thank you for your concern.”
    â€œIt is nice to know you can be a gentleman when you try.”
    Skagg was turning to go but he stopped and said gruffly, “Don’t make me out to be something I am not. I am no damn gentleman. I am not an animal, either, although Fargo, there, might think so.” He waited for Fargo to comment, then scowled and marched off, barking, “Let’s go! I need to have Tamar bandage me up.”
    â€œA strange man,” Mabel Landry said.
    â€œA killer,” Fargo stressed. He scoured the woods. “Maybe we should pack up and go to the trading post.”
    â€œWhatever for?”
    Fargo nudged the feathered half of the bloody arrow with his boot. “The Untillas might come back.”
    â€œThey didn’t harm me when they took my hairbrush.”
    â€œThose were women,” Fargo pointed out.
    â€œSo you think we are in danger?”
    Fargo honestly didn’t know. To the best of his knowledge, the Untillas were not on the warpath. But why would the Untillas want to kill Skagg, their sole source of trade goods? There was a mystery here.
    â€œI would as soon stay put,” Mabel was saying. “The Indians did not bother us until Skagg showed up.”
    â€œAll right,” Fargo said. They were in as much danger from Skagg, if not more, than they were from the Untillas. “But move your blankets closer to mine, and sleep with your revolver in your hand.”
    â€œThere is something you should know. I have never shot anyone, and I doubt that I ever could.”
    â€œYou are not taking this seriously enough,” was Fargo’s opinion.
    â€œOn the contrary,” Mabel assured him. “But I know my limitations. I am counting on you to protect me, should it come to that.”
    Wonderful, Fargo thought. She would be next to useless if they were attacked. Hunkering, he added fuel to the fire so the flames blazed brighter than he normally would let them, casting their glow well into the timber. It should keep the Untillas away, he reckoned.
    Mabel busied herself doing as he wanted. “I must say,” she commented as she slid her saddle over, “this is turning into quite an adventure. If only Chester is still alive.”
    â€œIt is looking less and less likely that he is,” Fargo said without thinking.
    â€œWhat a cruel thing to say. Just because no one has seen him in a while does not mean he is dead.”
    Fargo almost said that she was grasping at a straw, but he held his tongue. “We should learn more when we reach his cabin.”
    â€œI can’t wait! I have missed Chester so much. He is the only sibling I have.” Mabel arranged her blankets so that they overlapped his. Sinking down, she lay on her back, her head propped on her saddle, her hands behind her head. The soft material of her blouse molded to the contours of her ample bosom, outlining her breasts.
    Fargo felt a familiar constriction in his throat, and looked away. She was mighty attractive, this Mabel Landry. But now was hardly the right time or place. Sitting cross-legged, he placed the Henry across his lap. “You can go to sleep any time you want.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    â€œOne of us needs to keep watch.”
    â€œThat is hardly fair,” Mabel said. “I will spell you in the middle of the night. Wake me.”
    Fargo disliked trusting his life to greenhorns. She rolled onto her side, and those long, willowy legs of hers, so close to his, stirred notions better left alone. To