Read Online Wyoming Winterkill by Jon Sharpe - Free Book Online Page A

that it was Colonel Harrington who came. He’d known Harrington for several years, and liked him. It helped that the colonel was one of the few truly competent officers he’d come across.
    Too many were too young and too green. They graduated from West Point strutting like peacocks and thinking they could wipe out every hostile west of the Mississippi River without breaking a sweat. A lot of early graves testified to their stupidity.
    Harrington smiled and offered his hand. He lit up like a candle when Fargo introduced Jessie. “How do you do? I never imagined I would see my friend, here, in the company of so young a lady as yourself. Usually they are much older.”
    â€œCute,” Fargo said.
    â€œHim or me?” Jessie asked.
    Fargo stepped to the sorrel and slapped Margaret on the fanny. She raised her head and glared and cursed through her gag. “And this,” he said, “is the bitch who had a hand in killing Jessie’s grandparents and a lot of other folks.”
    Harrington listened with rising anger to the rest, and when Fargo was done, he smiled coldly at Margaret.
    â€œWell, now. I don’t believe our guardhouse has ever housed a woman but there’s a first time for everything. You’ll be held while we contact the proper authorities. As a civilian, your fate is in their hands. But I must say, I sincerely hope they hang you.”
    Margaret did more swearing.
    The colonel issued commands and a pair of husky troopers bore her off. “As for you, young lady,” he said to Jessie, “I’ll have Sergeant Petrie take you to my wife. Ethel will be delighted to make your acquaintance.”
    Jessie gripped Fargo’s hand and moved behind his leg so only her head peeked out. “I’d rather stay with Skye.”
    â€œWe have a lot to talk about, him and I,” Harrington said. “You’ll like my wife. Believe me.”
    Jessie looked up. “What do I do?”
    Squatting, Fargo grinned and touched her chin. “We’ve talked about this. Ethel is as nice as your grandma. She’ll look after you.”
    â€œI want you to look after me.”
    â€œI have work to do. I can’t be with you every minute.”
    â€œYou’ll come see me as soon as you’re done with your talk? You promise?”
    Fargo nodded.
    Reluctantly, Jessie let the sergeant lead her off by the hand. She looked back the whole way, not taking her eyes off Fargo until they had gone around the headquarters.
    â€œShe seems quite fond of you,” Colonel Harrington remarked.
    â€œDon’t even think it,” Fargo said. “I’d need a wife and that’s not going to happen.”
    â€œI suppose we should get to it then.”
    It was the middle of the afternoon and the post was at its busiest. The sutler was doing booming business with the emigrants from the wagon train. The blacksmith was repairing a broken wheel rim, the peal of his hammer clear in the icy air.
    Fargo was grateful for the warmth of Harrington’s office and doubly so for the coffee the colonel had his orderly bring.
    Harrington began things off. “You got here sooner than I expected. Which is good.”
    â€œYour message said it was urgent,” Fargo reminded him.
    â€œAnd it is.” Harrington rose from his chair, moved to the window, and stood staring to the west with his arms behind him, at parade rest. “This winter looks to be a bad one.”
    Fargo grunted.
    â€œThe snow and the cold have come early. That wagon train out front is the last due in until spring, and if they stick to the Oregon Trail, they should make it through.”
    Fargo swallowed and thought about asking for cream.
    â€œThere was another train that came through about three weeks ago,” Harrington continued. “Their wagon master was a man by the name of Jacob Coarse. Ever hear of him?”
    Fargo shook his head, then realized Harrington wasn’t looking at him.