Fargo Springs owed its very existence to being situated just beyond the boundary of the famed and prosperous Circle J ranch. For more than two decades it had grown larger and larger as it lived off the fruits of Bret Jarvis’ labors. The wealthier the Circle J had become the more prosperous the town had also become. Fargo Springs was like a parasite living off Jarvis and his cowhands. Unlike the Bar 10 which bred the best longhorn steers in Texas the Circle J had concentrated on white faced cattle. Both ranches had grown rich as they supplied the insatiable appetites of those who lived back east.
Unlike so many other towns in the west there had never been any real trouble in the sprawling settlement apart from the usual kind. The same kind which also afflicted all similar settlements throughout the west. Wild women, hard liquor and card sharps always tended to create tension as they fought one another for the honest hard earned dollars that eventually filtered from the pockets of hard working cowboys.
But soon they would discover what real trouble was. A kind of trouble none of the folks in Fargo Springs had ever experienced before.
Soon they would be faced with something none of them had any experience of. A band of ruthless bank robbers who never showed anyone any mercy was headed into their town. The riders who were closing in on the remote Texan town were unlike the troublesome cowboys they were used to. This was not young hotheads desperate to spend their wages and have a good time. The Logan gang were cut from a utterly different cloth to any fabric the townsfolk of Fargo Springs had ever encountered before.
It was a cloth created by the Devil himself.
Fargo Springs Main Street boasted two juicy well fattened banks. Banks which had prospered ever since Bret Jarvis had started to breed his famed white faced steers and sell them to the eastern cattle agents. Every business along the well maintained street owed its existence to the nearby cattle ranch.
Suddenly one by one the towns early risers spotted dust drifting heavenward from the trail only ever used by the Circle J cowhands. Men, women and children alike began to wave to where they knew horsemen were riding toward them. Each of them had the same thought. Bret Jarvis and his boys were coming to Fargo Springs to spend some of their gold. It was like the fourth of July whenever the Circle J returned from McCoy after selling a herd.
But the twelve riders who broke clear of the dust were not the riders any of the towns inhabitants were expecting. Cole Logan rode and the head of his followers and squinted toward the innocent people who were waving at them.
Logan looked at Barker and smirked.
‘Reckon this will be a whole lot easier than we thought it would be, Rem.’ The outlaw leader remarked. ‘Look at them. They’re waving at us like we were long lost friends. This will be even easier pickings than the ranch was.’
Barker grinned from ear to ear. ‘Reckon so, Cole. I sure reckon so.’
The Logan gang spurred hard. Their mounts tore across the distance between themselves and the town. The closer the horsemen got to Fargo Springs the more the onlookers stopped waving and smiling.
It soon became obvious that none of the twelve riders were Circle J men. None of the dust caked faces were known to any of the townsfolk who studied them as they thundered between the outlying buildings and continued on through the wide streets toward the largest of the settlements structures.
The livery stable stood alone between two fenced areas of grassland. A score of saddle horses roamed around within the first of the pastures. They were well nourished and exactly what Cole Logan sought.
Logan and his cronies drew rein as they reached the wide open double doors of the towering building. The outlaws dismounted swiftly apart from Logan himself. He remained seated on his spent mount watching those who were watching his men and himself.
Rem Barker held on to his horses bridle and looked up at their leader curiously.
‘What’s wrong, Cole?’
‘Nothing, Rem.’ Logan responded before easing himself off his sweat soaked saddle and lowering himself to the ground.
‘What ya looking at then?’ Shaky Pete added.
Logan tossed his reins into the hands of Barker. ‘The town’s changed since we were here last year.’
The outlaws looked around them. They could not see any difference to the towns layout, but knew that unlike most men Logan had an incredible memory. If he said something had changed then it was a certainty that it had changed.
Barker rubbed the sweat from his brow across his sleeve and edged closer to Logan. ‘How has it changed, Cole?’
‘The streets ain’t the same as they were.’ Logan replied.
‘Ya dead right, Mister.’ A gruff voice piped up from within the shadows of the livery stable. A dozen sets of eyes darted to where the voice had emanated. They watched the large muscular figure move slowly out into the bright sunshine. ‘It’s changed one hell of a lot. Ya must be mighty observant.’
Logan looked at the stableman. He touched the brim of his hat and smiled. ‘Some folks say I am.’
The livery stable man rested a powerful hand against one of the tall doors and paused. ‘The town council decided to pull down a couple of streets and build a handful of new houses yonder. Had to alter half the streets in town to make it all fit together again. Damn waste of money and time if’n ya ask me but I didn’t have no vote.’
Logan was concerned. He had the layout of the town etched into his mind as he had last seen it. Every street, alley and shortcut was branded into his devilish mind and now it was different. He walked up to the man who seemed to stand more than six inches taller than any of his men.
‘Why’d they do it?’
‘Progress they called it, mister.’ The livery man shrugged. ‘I sure don’t see how Fargo Springs is a better place than it was before. Reckon some of them council folks made themselves a profit on it though. They always do.’
Barker leaned close to Logan. He could see the concern in the face he knew so well. ‘What’s wrong, Cole? Does it matter that the streets ain’t the same as they were?’
Cole Logan raised an eyebrow.
‘It might, Rem. It just might.’
The large muscular figure scratched his whiskers and looked at the array of exhausted horseflesh then returned his gaze upon Logan. ‘What’s ya business with me? Ya want me to look after these nags for a few days until they’re up to full strength again?’
‘Nope.’ Logan said and aimed a finger at the field of horses. ‘I want to buy every one of those horses you got in there.’
‘All of them?’ The large man asked.
‘Yep.’ Logan nodded. ‘I’ll pay top dollar. Gold coin.’
The liveryman was impressed. ‘The trouble is them nags is all I got. What if someone wants to buy a horse from me after ya gone?’
Barker pointed at their own horses. ‘Sell them our old nags, friend. Like ya said they’ll be fine in a few days once they’ve rested up.’
Logan was thoughtful He had noticed that since entering Fargo Springs they had not seen another horse apart from those in the livery stable coral.
‘Does anyone in town own a horse?’ Logan watched the big greasy man beside them. ‘I ain’t seen any apart from the ones you got fenced up there.’
‘Nope.’ The liveryman shrugged. ‘Ain’t no call for any of them to own horses. Besides most of the critters wouldn’t know which end of a nag to feed let alone manage to haul their sorry backsides up on to a saddle. Even the sheriff don’t own one. They never goes anywhere so they don’t need horses. If they do have to go someplace they rents a nag from me.’
‘So the only other horses in all of Fargo Springs are right there?’ Logan was starting to smile again.
‘Yep.’
Barker looked at Logan and then at their lathered up mounts. ‘I just had me a thought, Cole. If we buy up all the fresh horseflesh and ride south, the only horses left for a posse are ours. And they ain’t got more than a few miles of hard riding left in them.’
Logan turned square on the liveryman. ‘Name ya price and we’ll buy every one of your horses. I’ll also pay top dollar for new blankets and livery. Ours are a tad sweat soaked as ya can see.’
The large figure offered a hand to Logan. ‘My names Moose Morgan and I sure like the way ya do business. What are you and ya pals intending on doing?’
Logan shook the hand. ‘If ya knew ya might need killing, Moose. I’d hate to be forced to kill such a fine specimen as you.’
Moose Morgan grinned. ‘Bank robbers?’
Each of the outlaws faces suddenly went grim. Barker lowered his head and stared at Morgan. ‘Why’d ya ask that?’
‘I read me dime novels. A whole heap of them.’ Morgan took the reins of the closest horses and led them into the dark interior of the towering building. ‘I’ve bin hoping for years that something exciting like that would happen here but never thought it would. I hope ya cleans them banks of every damn cent they got.’
Logan watched as the man with incredible strength handled the horses. ‘Ya don’t seem to be troubled by the fact that me and my boys intend doing exactly that. We intend stripping both banks clean.’
Morgan glanced at Logan as he swiftly hauled saddles from horses and dumped them in the sunlight to dry. He gave a grunt which was half laughter and half anger. He rested and stared at Logan.
‘Strip them clean, mister. Them fancy bankers never let me even have an account. They don’t like the smell of hard work in their fancy banks. Nope. It ain’t gonna hurt me if they ends up broke. I got all my money in an old empty peach jar in the rafters.’
Cole Logan gave a nod. ‘You’ll be the richest varmint in Fargo Springs before sundown, Moose.’