Read Online Thunderhead Trail by Jon Sharpe - Free Book Online

thousand dollars is five thousand dollars,” Aramone said.
    â€œSo here we are,” Glyn said.
    â€œThat money is as good as ours,” Aramone boasted.
    Not in a million years would Fargo have taken them for bounty hunters. He digested the revelation as he ate.
    Glyn didn’t talk much but Aramone sure loved to.
    Now that they’d revealed their secret, she had more to say about it.
    â€œYou seem surprised to hear what we do. I suppose it must seem strange for a woman to be in the bounty business, but my brother and I have always done everything together. When we were little, we spent all our time in the woods hunting and fishing. Our father never liked that I dressed as a boy and carried a rifle around.”
    â€œHe ran an export business,” Glyn mentioned.
    â€œWe had a fine house and fine clothes but I’d always dress scruffy and go off into the Pine Barrens to hunt.”
    â€œPine Barrens?” Fargo said.
    â€œIn New Jersey,” Aramone said.
    â€œNew Jersey bounty hunters,” Fargo marveled. “Now I’ve heard everything.”
    Aramone laughed. “It’s an uncommon profession for someone from New Jersey, I’ll admit.”
    â€œI wouldn’t do anything else,” Glyn said. “Hunting for bounty suits me down to my marrow.”
    Fargo wondered what Rafer Crown would think of the news.
    Aramone gazed at the sparkling stars and then out over the darkling silhouettes of high peaks. “I sure do like these mountains of yours.”
    â€œThe Rockies aren’t New Jersey,” Fargo said.
    â€œThey’re covered with woods and we know woods,” Aramone said. “Don’t worry about us. We’re right at home here.”
    Fargo doubted it. “Say that again after you’ve run into a grizzly or the Blackfeet.”
    â€œIndians don’t scare us,” Glyn said. “I can shoot them as quick as I shot that rabbit.”
    â€œRabbits don’t shoot back,” Fargo said. “And rabbits don’t slit your throat while you’re sleeping so they can lift your scalp and steal your horse.”
    â€œWe’re perfectly capable of defending ourselves,” Aramone insisted.
    â€œYou’d better hope so,” Fargo said.

18
    The meal was done and the fire was being allowed to burn low.
    Fargo lay on his back with his saddle for a pillow and an arm behind his head.
    The Richmonds had spread their blankets and Glyn was on his side, his back to the fire.
    Aramone lay facing the flames and Fargo. She’d closed her eyes a while ago and Fargo figured she was in dreamland until he saw her staring at him over her blanket. She raised her head and glanced at her brother as if to make sure he couldn’t see her. Then, grinning at Fargo, she slowly rimmed her lips with the tip of her tongue and settled down as if to sleep.
    Gradually, the flames dwindled to fingers.
    Fatigue nipped at Fargo. He felt himself dozing off and tried to fight it but the next he knew, he was being shaken from a sound sleep by a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes.
    Aramone was bent over him. Before she and her brother had turned in, she’d gone into the woods and changed from her riding outfit into a nightgown and heavy robe, which she now wore belted at the waist.
    Putting a finger to her lips, she gestured at her brother, gripped Fargo’s hand, and pulled.
    Rising quietly, Fargo let her take him out of the circle of firelight into the trees. She went about twenty yards and faced him.
    â€œThis should be far enough,” she whispered.
    â€œHave something in mind, do you?” Fargo teased.
    â€œI’ve been thinking of it all day,” Aramone said throatily. “Hell, since I first set eyes on you.”
    Fargo still wasn’t quite fully awake. He shook his head to clear it, and in the next moment she brazenly placed her hand between his legs.
    â€œLook at what we have here,” Aramone said.