18

The Brenner house was the finest and biggest in Horse Creek. It stood by itself at the end of a quiet street. Maples had been planted and rose bushes grew along a picket fence.

Amanda didn’t stir outside until well past ten. She wore a bright new outfit that would cost most women a couple of months’ worth of wages, and carried a folded parasol that she happily twirled on her shoulder.

From behind an oak in an empty lot, Fargo watched her stroll to Main Street. Only when she was out of sight did he stride from hiding.

Amanda was on a shopping spree. She spent half an hour in a millinery and almost as long in the general store and was trying Fargo’s patience when she went into a small shop on a corner and sat at a table in the window.

Fargo entered just as a pot of tea was being set in front of her by a young woman in an apron. He pretended to be studying a case of cakes and pies and watched her out of the corner of his eye. She filled her cup and was raising it to her lips when she saw him and gave a start. For a moment he thought she would bolt. Turning, he acted surprised to see her and said, “Well, look who it is.”

“Mr. Fargo. What a pleasure.”

Fargo went over. “Mind if I join you?” He turned a chair and straddled it and shammed an interest in the passersby. “A lot of folks are out and about today.”

“It’s like this most mornings.”

“Do they serve coffee here?” Fargo asked, even though a sign on the wall told him they did.

“Yes. But I only ever have their mint tea. I do so love the taste of mint. Don’t you?”

“I’m more fond of whiskey.”

Amanda set down her cup and seemed to be pondering what she should say next. Finally she coughed and asked, “Are you going to keep me in suspense?”

“About what?”

“You know very well. About last night. You went to the old farm, didn’t you? What happened?”

“The marshal went with me.”

Amanda didn’t act surprised at the news. “And?”

Fargo looked her in the eyes. “Something tells me you already know.”

“How could I? I wasn’t there.”

“You sent me, knowing some of the outlaws were waiting to kill me. But they were piss-poor assassins.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“I trusted you and I shouldn’t have,” Fargo said. “But how was I to know you’re a conniving little bitch?”

Amanda colored and clenched a fist. “How dare you talk to me that way.”

“It’s easy. Want me to do it again?”

She glanced around as if to be sure no one was listening. “You’re rude. And stupid. Why would I want you to come to harm?”

“You tell me.”

“Preposterous,” Amanda said again. “You helped save me from the Cotton Gang. I owe you my life, and you accuse me of plotting to take yours?”

“Someone set up the ambush.”

“And it had to be me?”

“I sure didn’t. And I don’t think it was the marshal.”

“So I’m some sort of mastermind now? I run the Cotton bunch? I had them rob my father’s bank and abduct me? You met Hoby Cotton. Can you imagine anyone telling him what to do? Even his own father couldn’t stop that boy from . . .” Amanda caught herself and gripped her cup and held it as if she were considering throwing it in his face. “I want you to leave.”

Fargo didn’t move.

“So help me, if you don’t, I’ll cause such a scene, the marshal will arrest you.”

“As a threat that’s not much.” But Fargo stood, and then leaned on the table. “I take it personal when someone tries to kill me.”

“I did no such thing.”

“And buffalo fly.” Fargo smiled and touched his hat brim and strolled out. He could practically feel her eyes burn into his back. He looked in the window and gave a wave, and it was a wonder steam didn’t come out of her ears.

Half a block on he stopped in a recessed doorway. Now that he’d stirred the hornet’s nest, he’d wait and see what the female hornet did.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Five minutes hadn’t gone by when Amanda marched out of the shop. Her body rigid with anger, her expression caused others to glance at her as she stormed up the street.

Careful not to be spotted, Fargo trailed along.

Amanda was making for the marshal’s office. She was almost to it when she stopped short and seemed to be mulling something over. Abruptly turning, she crossed the street. For the next quarter of an hour she walked aimlessly to and fro, her head bowed in thought.

Fargo could only wonder what she was thinking on so hard.

Eventually she bent her steps to the bank. She was inside a short while, came out, and headed straight for home. As she went in, she looked back, but Fargo was in the oaks in the empty lot and she didn’t see him.

Fargo frowned. He’d hoped to provoke her into doing something that would prove she was in cahoots with the outlaws. But she hadn’t fallen for his ruse.

So now what? he asked himself. He wasn’t about to sit around and wait for something to happen.

There was only one thing to do. It was a long shot. But with the Cottons and their pards out to kill him, he might as well return the favor.