14

Fargo and Marshal Coltraine searched Horse Creek from end to end and found no trace of Timbre Wilson. Not that Fargo expected to.

Within half an hour, gossip about the attempt on Fargo’s life was all over town. Everywhere they went, people pointed and talked in hushed tones.

Coltraine was fit to be tied. “See? It’s just like I told you. I could find myself out of a job if I’m not careful.”

Fargo had never met a lawman so concerned about what folks thought, and said as much.

“You’ve never worn tin or you’d understand,” Coltraine said. “A lawman slips up and he’s liable to find himself in hot water. The town council could fire me over this.” He touched his hat brim. “I’d best go see the mayor and let him know I have everything under control. Care to tag along?”

Fargo didn’t. His stomach had grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the day before. As he watched the lawman stalk off, he mused that Luther Coltraine wasn’t anything like his reputation. Competent, yes, but he wasn’t the man of iron he was reputed to be.

With a shrug, Fargo went in search of a restaurant. He’d no sooner ordered beefsteak with all the trimmings when the bell over the door jangled and in came Amanda Brenner. She looked around and saw him and came straight for his table, nodding at a few diners she knew. “Mind if I join you?”

Fargo indicated an empty chair.

“I saw you come in and thought we should talk.” Amanda had on a dress with yellow buttons down the front and a yellow ribbon in her hair. She set her handbag in her lap.

“What do we have to talk about?” Fargo wondered.

“For starters, I wanted to thank you for helping to save me from those terrible outlaws. Who knows what they might have done if you hadn’t brought the posse to my rescue.”

“They didn’t lay a hand on you. You said so yourself.”

“No. But it was only a matter of time. I saw how Hoby Cotton was eyeing me.”

“Maybe he was smitten,” Fargo joked.

Amanda took him seriously. “I’m young yet but it’s happened so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Modest, too.”

Amanda laughed. “I wasn’t bragging, thank you very much. I can’t help it I’m pretty. But a girl knows when a fella is interested. He sweats and stammers and can’t look her in the eyes.”

“Did Hoby Cotton sweat and stammer?”

“Well, no. But he’s an outlaw. And awful worldly. Did you know he’s from Texas? He told me he was born in the Staked Plain country, wherever that is. And that he’s lived in Houston and Galveston and other places, besides. But he doesn’t like cities and towns much because of all the people.”

“And the law,” Fargo said.

“Implying what? He’s afraid of tin stars?” Amanda snickered. “Not Hoby. He’s got more sand than all the men in Horse Creek put together.”

“Sounds to me like you’re the one who’s smitten.”

“Oh, please,” Amanda said. “You have to admit, though, that a boy his age robbing banks and stages and all, shows uncommon courage.”

“Shows not many brains,” Fargo said.

“There’s no need to be insulting. To tell the truth, I sort of admire him. He lives as he pleases with no one looking over his shoulder to say he can’t do this or that.” Amanda seemed to catch herself. “But listen to me. You’re right. It does sound like I’m smitten when I’m not. At least, not by him. I prefer older men.”

Fargo was hoping to eat in peace so to hurry her along he asked, “Is that what you wanted to talk about? Hoby Cotton?”

“Heavens no,” Amanda said. She bent toward him and spoke more quietly. “I wanted to tell you I might know where the gang will be tonight.”

“How would you know that?”

“I heard the outlaws talking when they didn’t think I was listening. It was something to do with them heading for Denver to celebrate with all that money they stole.” Amanda lowered her voice even more. “There’s an old homestead about two miles north of here. It belonged to some dirt farmer who was killed by the Sioux. The Cotton Gang is going to hole up there tonight and head for Denver in the morning.”

“Why are you telling me?” Fargo said. “You should go to the marshal.”

Amanda straightened. “I might run into Deputy Wilkins and I can’t stand how he fawns over me.”

“He’s harmless,” Fargo said.

“You wouldn’t think that if you were female.”

“How old are you again?”

“Old enough,” Amanda said. “If you want, go tell the marshal yourself. He’ll likely rustle up another posse and you’ll have to split the reward. Or didn’t you know Hoby Cotton and his brothers are worth five thousand dollars, dead or alive?”

No, Fargo didn’t.

“All that money can be yours.”

“There are six of them,” Fargo reminded her.

“You know how to shoot, don’t you?”

“I’ll think about it,” Fargo lied. It would be a cold day in hell before he did anything so foolish as go up against half a dozen killers alone.

“You do that.” Amanda smiled. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day so I’ll be off.” She rose and nodded and walked out.

Fargo’s food came. He was famished, and he put Hoby Cotton from his mind to devote himself to an inch-thick steak sizzling with fat, a baked potato drowning in butter, and peas. He washed it all down with four cups of piping hot coffee.

He was in good spirits when he left the restaurant but it lasted only a couple of steps. Across the street, Marshal Coltraine and Deputy Wilkins were jawing with a pair of citizens. The lawman saw him coming and moved to meet him.

“Still no sign of Timbre Wilson. I’d say he’s long gone and you have nothing to worry about.”

“Have any plans for tonight?”

“After the past couple of days, I reckoned I’d kick back and take it easy. Why do you ask?”

Fargo told him about Amanda and her claim about the Cotton Gang.

“She told you but not me?” the lawman said in surprise.

“I wondered about that too,” Fargo said.

“But you came to me, anyway. Good thinking.” Coltraine squinted skyward. The sun had almost set and the gray of twilight was spreading. “We’ll wait till dark so no one sees us ride out.”

Fargo didn’t see why that was important but he didn’t bring it up.

“If what she said is true,” Coltraine had continued, “we can put an end to the Cotton Gang once and for all.”

“How big a posse this time?”

“You and me,” Coltraine said.

“Is that smart?”

“You saw what I had to work with before. It would be the same all over again. I’d rather have someone at my side who knows what he’s doing. And you do.”

“What about Deputy Wilkins?”

“Somebody has to stay and mind the town,” Coltraine replied. “No, the two of us are enough.”

Fargo hoped to God he was right.