37

“You little bitch,” Luther Coltraine growled.

“So much for true love,” Fargo said.

Coltraine glared, then let out a bellow worthy of a bull buffalo and came at Fargo like a madman. His arms pinwheeling, Coltraine sought to overpower him by brute strength.

Countering as best he could, Fargo gave way. Some of the blows connected, provoking spikes of pain. He let them. He blocked, he weaved, but he didn’t strike back. It emboldened Coltraine into swinging wilder. Which was exactly what Fargo wanted.

The moment he had been waiting for came. Coltraine cocked his right arm and lowered his left farther than he should’ve. Fargo tensed, and when the right fist flashed, he shifted to avoid it and slammed his own into Coltraine’s jaw with all the force in his sinews.

Luther Coltraine took a single, faltering step, shook his head to try to clear it, and sprawled in a heap in the dust.

“You beat him!” Amanda happily cried, and forgetting her shoulder wound, she clapped her hands.

Fargo stood over the lawman, breathing deeply. His knuckles were bruised and his ribs were on fire.

“Now what?” Amanda asked.

Good question, Fargo thought. “I take you home and you tell your folks about him.”

Amanda stared at her lover and gnawed her lip. “They’ll be mad as can be but it’ll be worth it to see him disgraced. He has it coming for how he treated me and all those other women.”

Fargo felt like a bit of a hypocrite. After all, he was fond of the ladies, too. The difference being that he didn’t wear a badge and pretend to be a model of virtue. And he wouldn’t arrest someone on false grounds to have them thrown in prison. “I suppose he has it coming.”

“You suppose?” Amanda declared in disbelief. “He deserves it, if anyone does. Help me up and we’ll head out.”

“I don’t think you’re strong enough yet.”

“Then what are you going to do? Tie him and keep him prisoner until I’m fit to ride?”

“I have an idea,” said a new voice. “How about if I take him off your hands?”

Fargo whirled at the “I,” and froze.

“Miss me?” Hoby Cotton said with a grin. He was flanked by Semple and Timbre Wilson, both with their six-guns leveled.

“Not you again,” Amanda said.

“I’m like a bad penny,” Hoby said. “Or so my pa, here, keeps tellin’ me.” He walked up and jabbed Coltraine with a toe. “How the mighty have fallen. Ain’t that how it goes?”

“Where did you come from?” Amanda asked. “I thought you’d be halfway back to Texas by now.”

“Not a chance,” Hoby said. “Not while there’s unfinished business between him and me.”

Fargo didn’t like the sound of that. “Unfinished how?”

Hoby moved to the fire and squatted and helped himself to Fargo’s coffee. “For a long time now I’ve done all I can to make him a laughingstock. Saved the best for last, robbin’ the bank under his nose like I did.”

“I’m guessing that’s not enough,” Fargo said when the boy didn’t go on.

“Not by a long shot.” Hoby swallowed and smiled. “My ma cheated on her husband for him and he left her in the lurch. When I found out and showed up on his doorstep, did he greet his long-lost son with open arms? He did not. He treated me like dirt and told me to get lost. And now his posse has killed one of my brothers. He has a lot to answer for, has Luther Coltraine.”

“What will you do to him?” Amanda asked.

“Might be I’ll drag him for a couple of miles over the rockiest parts I can find,” Hoby said. “I hear that peels the skin and flesh right off.”

“That would be terrible.”

“Wouldn’t it, though?” Hoby said, and laughed. He drained the tin cup and tossed it away, then stood and stepped to Amanda. Hunkering, he tapped her bandage. “What happened to you?”

“A stray bullet,” Amanda said. “I would have died if not for Skye.”

“How sweet,” Hoby said, and before anyone could guess his intent, he punched the bandage as hard as he could.

Amanda screamed.

Fargo took a step but stopped when Timbre Wilson and Semple pointed their revolvers.

“No, you don’t, mister,” Timbre Wilson said. “We’ll shoot you dead if you try to help her.”

Clutching herself, Amanda writhed and sobbed. She might have gone on a good while but Hoby lunged and cupped her chin and held her face steady.

“Enough bawlin’, bitch. It hurts my ears.”

“Why?” Amanda said. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You let him poke you,” Hoby said, with a nod at Coltraine. “And when I warned you about him, you wouldn’t listen.”

“I was in love,” Amanda said, wincing. “Or thought I was. Now my eyes have been opened and I see him for how he truly is.”

“So you won’t care if I flay him to pieces?”

“Flay away,” Amanda said. “And when I’m up to it, I’ll dance on his grave.”

“Good for you,” Hoby said. He reached out and she flinched and drew away but all he did was pat her on the head. “I reckon I’m sorry for that wallop.”

Fargo had seldom come across anyone so . . . unpredictable. The boy was deadly one minute, friendly the next.

“How about you, scout?” Hoby asked, turning. “Would you butt in if I took a knife and went to slit his throat.”

“Coltraine is nothing to me,” Fargo said. Although he wouldn’t stand there and let it happen.

“Well, then,” Hoby said. “We’ll take him and be on our way.”

“Hold on,” Timbre Wilson said. “You’re forgettin’ about Abe, and how this scout nearly killed me.”

“I never forget nothin’,” Hoby said. “Semple and me will light out with my so-called pa. You stay and take care of the scout and the girl.”

“What?” Amanda said.

“Come now, darlin’,” Hoby said. “I let you live, they’d use you against me if they ever brought me to trial. They’d put you on the stand and make you swear on the Bible that the last you saw of the marshal, Semple and me were cartin’ him off to send him into the hereafter.”

“I’d never do that,” Amanda said.

Hoby winked at Fargo. “I should be mad at how dumb folks think I am. But I’m not dumb, am I?”

“No,” Fargo said, “dumb is one thing you’re not.”

Pleased, Hoby beamed. “I’m smart enough to know that you’re the only hombre in a hundred miles who could track me and my pards down. Which is extra reason to blow out your wick.”

“Why don’t I do it and get it over with?” Timbre Wilson said.

“Weren’t you sayin’ as how you’d love to poke this pretty little filly your own self?” Hoby said. “That it’s a shame the marshal was havin’ all the fun?”

Timbre stared at Amanda and a lecherous gleam came into his eyes. “I do believe I did.”

“There you go.” Hoby laughed and said to Semple, “Fetch our horses and our ropes, and let the fun commence.”