27

Marshal Coltraine glared and Brenner coughed and quickly said, “Enough about that. Let’s talk about something else. Why exactly did you stop by, Mr. Fargo?”

“To see the marshal here,” Fargo said.

“And to flaunt the law?” Coltraine said.

“To tell you that Hoby Cotton has taken a personal interest in you. His very words.”

Coltraine sat up. “What?”

“He said that one of the reasons he robbed the bank was to embarrass you. That teller died to make you a laughingstock.”

“My word,” Mrs. Brenner said.

“Why does he hate the marshal so much?” the banker wondered.

“Let’s ask the marshal,” Fargo said.

“How the hell would I know?” Coltraine snapped, and caught himself. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Brenner. “But the scout, here, seems determined to get my dander up tonight. After all I’ve done for him, too.”

“I must have missed that part,” Fargo said.

“I let you out of jail, didn’t I? I went with you to the sodbuster’s. You ask me, I’ve bent over backward on your account.”

“Please, don’t spat,” Mrs. Brenner said. “I’m sure Mr. Fargo doesn’t mean you any ill will. Do you, Mr. Fargo?”

“It’s Hoby Cotton I’m after,” Fargo said. “And those who ride with him.”

“I can’t permit that,” Coltraine said.

“You can’t stop it.”

“You’re not the law. I am. I won’t allow you to run around causin’ trouble. In fact, I’ve just now decided you have until mornin’ to leave Horse Creek and never come back. If I catch you here after sunrise, I’ll throw you behind bars.”

“On what charge?”

“Obstructin’ a law officer and anything else I can think of,” Coltraine said. He suddenly stood. “I won’t be treated with disrespect. Not in my own town. Not in front of friends.” He bowed slightly to Mrs. Brenner and nodded at the banker. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I can’t stay.”

“Marshal, wait,” Mrs. Brenner said.

But the lawman was already in the hallway. He didn’t look back and in a few seconds they heard the door slam.

Mrs. Brenner wagged a finger at Fargo. “That wasn’t nice. You made him terribly mad.”

“How very peculiar,” the banker said. “If you ask me, the marshal overreacted.”

Fargo thought so, too. He stood and touched his hat brim. “I’d best go. Thanks for the drinks.”

He half thought that Coltraine might be waiting for him but the yard and the street were empty. He started down the gravel path to the gate in the picket fence and stopped when he heard whispering. It came from around the side of the house.

Gliding over, he peered around.

A second-floor window was open and out of it leaned Amanda Brenner. She was the one whispering to Marshal Luther Coltraine, who stood to one side of a downstairs window so he couldn’t be seen from inside.

Fargo couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. The lawman responded and he caught the words “Hoby” and “last thing I need.” He hoped to hear more and went to edge forward but Amanda whispered something and the marshal nodded and turned toward the front of the house.

Fargo moved to the steps to give the impression he was just leaving.

Coltraine sauntered around the corner, and stopped. “I have half a mind to pistol-whip you.”

“You can try,” Fargo said.

“I took you for a friend. I was wrong.”

“I took you for worth a damn,” Fargo said.

Coltraine came over and planted himself. “I meant it about bein’ gone by daybreak. Don’t make me come after you.”

“Do what you have to,” Fargo said.

“I won’t abide troublemakers,” Coltraine said curtly, and stalked off. He went down the street and was soon lost in the darkness.

Fargo stepped to the side of the house and along it until he was under Amanda’s window. Groping the ground, he found a few pebbles. The first he threw missed the window and hit the house but the second and third clacked on the glass.

The window opened and Amanda poked her head out. “Did you forget something—?” she began, and stopped in amazement.

“Remember me?” Fargo said.

“What the hell do you want?”

“My, oh my,” Fargo taunted her. “Such language from the little lady.”

“I’ll yell for my parents if you don’t go away.”

“What were you talking to the marshal about?”

“None of your damn business. And if you claim I was to my folks, I’ll deny it.” Amanda pulled back and gripped the sash as if to slam it down. “Don’t bother me again.”

“How’s Hoby?”

Amanda hesitated. “You don’t know when you’re well off. You should forget about him and leave Horse Creek while you still can.”

“I’m not done here.”

“What do you hope to prove? What has he ever done to you that you’re persecuting him so?”

“Besides stabbing me and hanging me out for a bear to eat?”

“He did what?”

“Anything you want me to say to him when I find him? Give him your undying love maybe?”

“You think you know but you don’t.”

“No?” Fargo said. “How about if you give him a message for me. Tell him I’m not going anywhere until he’s six feet under.”

“You’re despicable.”

“I’ll be keeping my eye on you, girl.”

Amanda leaned out. “Why me?”

“Sooner or later you’ll lead me to Hoby or he’ll come see you. When he does . . .” Fargo grinned and pointed a finger and let down his thumb as if shooting a gun.

“It could be you they bury. I hope it is so you’ll leave me alone.” She drew back and brought the window down so hard, it was a wonder the glass didn’t shatter.

Chuckling, Fargo walked out to the street. Down the block a townsman was carrying a bundle into a home. Otherwise, it was deserted. He strolled along, his thumbs hooked in his gun belt. He happened to glance at a dwelling he was passing. Beyond it, on the next side street, a furtive figure in a dress was hastening toward Main.

The figure was too far off to tell much but Fargo was sure it was Amanda Brenner. She must have snuck out the back of her parents’ house and was on her way—where?

Fargo turned and cut through the yard. He reached the other street in time to see Amanda go around the corner. He quickened his pace. He mustn’t lose her. With any luck she’d lead him to Hoby Cotton and he could end this.

If the boy didn’t put an end to him first.