Read Online Utah Deadly Double (9781101558867) by Jon Sharpe - Free Book Online

easier . Fargo, the Western sun has turned your brain soft. ‘He’s not going anywhere and neither are we.’ You need to see a bumpologist, get your skull read.”
    A stick snapped, somewhere in the shadows on Fargo’s left, and both men filled their hands, rolling to new positions.
    â€œPlease don’t shoot me,” called out a musical feminine voice. “Your coffee smells so good I just came over to beg a cup.”
    Fargo watched a pretty face, framed by blond coronet braids, materialize out of the darkness. Her body in no way lagged behind the face: A shimmering, emerald-green dress showed a well-filled bodice and an hourglass figure.
    He rose up from the ground and slid his saddle in her direction. “It’s not exactly a velvet wing chair, miss, but it’s the best we can offer.”
    She hiked up her dress and plopped gracefully into the saddle, revealing two well-turned ankles. Billy used his hat as a potholder and poured her a cup of the steaming coffee. “Care for sugar, Miss . . .?”
    â€œReed. Caroline Reed. No, thank you, sir. I like my coffee bold.”
    Like my men , her tone seemed to add as she studied Fargo’s ruggedly handsome face in the flickering flames.
    â€œMy name is Frank Scully,” Fargo told her. “That’s my partner, Jim Lawson.”
    â€œPleased.” She pursed her lips, blew on the hot coffee, and took a sip. “Oh, my, that is strong and good. We been out of coffee since west Texas.”
    â€œWe?” Fargo said.
    â€œMe, Uncle Ralph, and Aunt Esther. They’ve raised me since my folks was took by the cholera in ’forty-eight.”
    â€œAnd done a damn fine job of it,” Billy opined, openly ogling the young woman.
    â€œThank you,” she replied, completely unabashed.
    â€œWe’re happy to have you,” Fargo said, “but this isn’t the safest place for a gal to go wandering around in at night.”
    She seemed transfixed by Fargo’s face. “That’s what Uncle Ralph says, too. But now and then I just get an itch to go . . . wandering. Our wagon has a busted axle and it’s taking just forever to repair it. It gets so boresome of a night, and me not having a husband nor nothing.”
    Old Billy almost choked on his coffee.
    â€œSo, Frank,” she said, “what do you and your partner do?”
    â€œWe’re hunters.”
    She giggled. “In that shirt? It looks like the flag for some tiny nation in South America.”
    Fargo felt heat flood his face while Billy guffawed.
    â€œIt’s like this, darlin’,” Billy explained. “Far—I mean, Frank here runs off into the woods. When the game sees that shirt of his, they turn tail and run in my direction and I shoot’em. ’Cept for them as tries to mate with him.”
    She giggled again. “I never did see such a handsome man wearing such foolish clothing. ’Course, it don’t hide your wide shoulders none. Say . . . have you fellows heard what happened to Mrs. Tipton?”
    â€œWho’s Mrs. Tipton?” Fargo asked.
    â€œLouise Tipton. Why, the poor thing! Pretty as four aces and left a widow this very day. Her husband, Mitt, was murdered out on the freight road. She’s taking it mighty hard. She ain’t said nothing, but some of the women say she was . . . outraged, if you take my meaning. Gal that fetching musta been.”
    â€œDamn shame,” Fargo said. “They catch whoever did it?”
    â€œNuh-uh. But everybody’s saying it was Skye Fargo.”
    â€œI can’t place the name,” Fargo said.
    â€œWell, he’s sort of famous. The Trailsman, they call him. Uncle Ralph says he’s the best scout, tracker, and Indian fighter in the West.”
    â€œBest Indian fighter?” Old Billy cut in. “That don’t cut no ice with me. Why—”
    â€œJim,” Fargo cut in with a warning tone, “never