Outlaw Trackdown (5 page)

11

When it came to stealth, the posse were clodhoppers.

Marshal Coltraine had them dismount behind the last hill. He had the cowboys from the Lazy J circle to the right while he and Wilkins and the townsmen circled to the left. Once the stand of trees where the outlaws had camped was surrounded, he would signal and the entire line would close in.

Fargo was with the townsfolk.

An Apache could have heard them coming from a mile away. They were as light-footed as oxen. They scraped their soles instead of placing each foot lightly. Norman tripped and nearly stumbled. The stableman kept spitting tobacco juice.

If it wasn't for the dire urgency of freeing Amanda Brenner, it would be comical.

There was nothing funny about what the outlaws would do once the marshal sprang the ambush. Hoby and his wild bunch would fight their way out with six-shooters blazing, and unlike the posse members, the outlaws had no compunctions about killing.

Fargo girded for a bloodbath. He moved ahead of the others so that he would spot the outlaws before they did and maybe pick off Hoby and Timbre before either got off a shot. With them down, the rest might be easier to take.

Gliding through the cottonwoods, he came to where the spring was visible.

He bit off an oath when he saw that the horses were gone. His concern for the girl climbed, and then he was jolted by surprise.

The fire had burned low. Seated beside it, calmly sipping coffee, was the damsel in distress herself.

Fargo was the first to step into the open. He kept thinking it had to be a trick, that Hoby had put her there to lure the posse in, but no, she was alone and the outlaws truly were gone.

Amanda saw him and smiled and gave a little wave of greeting. “You're back,” she said cheerfully.

The rest of the posse came out of cover, looking as confused as Fargo.

Except for Marshal Coltraine. He walked over to the fire, shouldering his rifle. “You're alive, girl,” he said with obvious relief.

“I should hope I am,” Amanda said. “The notion of dying doesn't appeal to me much.”

“Miss Brenner!” Deputy Wilkins exclaimed. “We were worried sick about you.” He gazed about the clearing. “We thought for sure those animals would do you harm.”

“I thought so too,” Amanda said. “Especially that Hoby Cotton. You should have heard how he talked to me.”

“If all he did was talk, you were lucky,” Marshal Coltraine said.

“You still should have heard him. Just ask Mr. Fargo, there. He was here. He knows how it was.”

The marshal and the deputy and the other posse members looked at Fargo and the marshal and the deputy both said, “What?”

“When the outlaws caught him,” Amanda went on.

“I don't recollect you mentionin' that,” Marshal Coltraine said.

“There wasn't time,” Fargo said.

“You got caught?” Deputy Wilkins said. “But they let you go?”

“Oh, no,” Amanda said. “He got away. And they were as mad as anything, let me tell you.”

“You and me will have a little talk later,” Marshal Coltraine said to Fargo, and focused on the girl. “So where did they get to?”

“Oh. They figured that Mr. Fargo would bring you right-quick so they lit a shuck. Timbre Wilson was all for staying and killing you but Hoby said no, your silly posse wasn't worth the bother. That's what he called you. Silly.”

Deputy Wilkins shook his rifle in anger. “I'll bother him plenty if I ever get him in my sights.”

“He's crafty, that one,” Amanda praised her captor. “And bold as anything. Do you know that when I brought up that the marshal wouldn't rest until he'd saved me, Hoby Cotton laughed and said you wouldn't be able to do it without his help.”

“Why, the nerve,” Deputy Wilkins said.

Marshal Coltraine asked, “How long ago did the outlaws leave?”

“It wasn't more than fifteen minutes after Mr. Fargo got away,” Amanda said.

“And they just left you here?” Deputy Wilkins asked.

“You see me, don't you?” Amanda retorted. “Hoby said I had served my purpose and he had no further use for me.”

“And he never once laid a hand on you?” This from the marshal.

“As if I would talk about it if he had,” Amanda said. “But no, he didn't. He didn't tie me or gag me or nothing.”

“I'll be damned,” Coltraine said.

It must have dawned on Norman that they weren't going to have to swap lead with the most vicious killers in the territory because he suddenly blurted, “God Almighty. This means it's over! We can go back to town.”

“You can,” said Rollins, the tall puncher. “We're headin' for the ranch. I've had enough of you townsfolk for a while.”

“What did we do?” Norman asked.

“We're stickin' together until we get to Horse Creek,” Marshal Coltraine informed them. “For all you know, this could be a trick.”

“What could?” Deputy Wilkins said.

Coltraine gestured at the girl. “Leavin' her and ridin' off. We think it's over and split up and head back, and the outlaws pick us off.”

“That would be something Hoby Cotton would do,” Amanda said. “Like I told you, he's a regular fox when it comes to brains.”

“We'll rest a bit and then head back,” Coltraine said. “If we push, we can reach town by dark.”

Fargo was curious. While the rest relaxed, he went to where the horses had been tied. The tracks led off to the northwest. He followed them to the end of the stand and scoured the plain beyond but saw no sign of the outlaws. Convinced they were gone, he turned to go back and took a step and stopped. “What the hell?”

“Hello to you, too,” Amanda Brenner said. She smiled and ran a hand through her hair. “Pretty day, isn't it?”

“Why aren't you with the rest?”

“I told the marshal I needed to answer nature's call but I really wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” Fargo said.

“Hoby Cotton wanted me to give you a message.”

“Me?” Fargo said again.

“Hoby said he doesn't hold hard feelings over you getting away. He said you were slick and quick. His very words.”

Just when Fargo thought he had heard it all. “I'll sleep better knowing that.”

Amanda giggled. “He meant it. And you have to admit, for an outlaw he has a sort of flair.”

“He's sort of deadly,” Fargo said.

“Well, that too.” Amanda looked over her shoulder. “One other thing. Once we're back in town, I'd like very much for you to pay us a visit. We have the big house at the end of Elm Street.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Why, so my folks and me can thank you proper. Maybe treat you to a meal. My ma is a good cook and I'm not bad either if I do say so myself.”

Fargo thanked her but he had no intention of taking her up on her offer. With her safe, all he wanted was to put Horse Creek behind him.

Little did he know.

12

A sharp-eyed citizen spotted the posse a ways off and word spread rapidly. By the time they rode in, a crowd had gathered. The sight of Amanda Brenner provoked cheers and clapping.

Amanda was on the deputy's mount. The marshal had Deputy Wilkins ride double with Norman, neither of whom seemed to like the idea much.

“Why can't she ride double with me?” Wilkins had protested.

“It wouldn't be proper,” Coltraine said.

“But I'd never take liberties,” Wilkins assured him. “When it comes to females, I'm plumb harmless.”

“You're harmless all around,” Coltraine said, “and the answer is still no.”

Fargo managed to fall behind the rest of the posse and swung wide of the crowd. He needed a drink or three and then he would be on his way.

Harvey the bartender wasn't happy to see him. “No trouble this time, you hear me?” he warned, and touched his bandaged ear. “The doc had to give me three stitches, damn you.”

“That many?” Fargo said.

“I mean it. I should refuse to serve you, you walloping me with that bottle like you did.”

“Speaking of which,” Fargo said, and snapped his fingers at the long shelf lined with liquor. “Monongahela.”

Harvey hesitated, as if inclined to refuse. “No hard feelings about earlier?”

“About you lying to the marshal and me ending up in jail?” Fargo shook his head. He'd changed his mind about walloping him again. “I'd say your ear makes us even.”

“More than,” Harvey grumped, and selected a bottle. “To show I don't hold a grudge, the bottle is on the house.”

“If I hit you on the other ear do I get two?”

“Hardy-har-har,” Harvey said.

Fargo took the bottle to a corner table and tiredly sank into a chair. Sunset was an hour off. Plenty of time for him to wash down the dust and put a few miles between him and the town. He'd rather bed down under the stars, anyway. Sleeping with a roof over his head never did seem entirely natural.

Settling back, he chugged and sighed with contentment. “Life doesn't get any better than this,” he said to himself.

“That's what you think, handsome. You haven't met me yet.”

Fargo looked up.

She was on the plump side with a well-rounded bosom and thick lips that curled in a perpetual pucker. Her eyes were evergreen, her hair a russet shade that hung past her shoulders, curling at the tips. Her dress appeared to have been painted on, and when she bent, her breasts threatened to bust free. “I'm Lucretia. I work here nights.”

“Marshal Coltraine allows it?”

“Why wouldn't he?” Lucretia said. “He's male, isn't he?” She grinned and winked. “So long as I don't rile the married ladies into wanting to ride me out on a rail, he lets me be.”

Fargo pushed a chair out with his boot. “Have a seat.”

“Don't mind if I do.” Lucretia deposited herself like a queen settling onto a throne. “I hear you went out with the posse today. The robbery and rescuing that girl are all everyone is talking about.”

“There wasn't much to the rescue.”

“Don't be modest. There's talk that you were taken prisoner and got away. That makes you a hero to some.”

“I got caught because I was careless,” Fargo said.

“Even so. Do you have any idea how many people the Cotton Gang has sent into the hereafter? Your guardian angel must have been watching over you.”

“My what?”

“You know. Like in the Bible. Angels that watch over us and protect us. Everybody has one.”

This was a new one on Fargo. He thought of all the scrapes he'd been in, thought of all the times hostiles or hard cases had tried to turn him into worm food. “If I do, mine needs more practice. It doesn't guard me against much.”

“Maybe it does and you don't know it.”

“The only guardian I need is this,” Fargo said, and patted his Colt.

“Well, enough about angels,” Lucretia said. Leaning on her elbows, she batted her long eyelashes. “See anything you like?”

“I do have a sudden hankering for watermelons,” Fargo said.

Lucretia laughed merrily. “I wonder why that should be.” She jiggled hers and said, “Me, I have a craving for buckskin. Are you interested?”

“What was it you said about the marshal?” Fargo quipped. “Now I remember. Something about him being male.”

“I'll take that as a yes.”

“Now or later?” Fargo asked. He thought maybe she'd have to wait until she got off work.

“Now is fine. I got here early and have a whole hour.” She ran a fingernail across her left breast. “Is that enough time or would you rather spend half the night at it?”

“My place or yours?”

“You have a place?” Lucretia said.

“The prairie.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not out in the open, thank you very much. Besides, the prairie has bugs and ticks and snakes. Give me a comfortable bed and privacy.”

“Is that bed far?”

“It is not,” Lucretia said. “In five minutes you can be sucking on watermelons to your heart's content.” She rose and playfully crooked a finger. “Follow me if you are up to it.”

“I'll show you up,” Fargo said.

Her room was on the second floor of a boardinghouse. The furnishings were simple and the bed sagged in the middle from a lot of use.

Lucretia no sooner closed the door behind them than she fastened herself to Fargo and pressed those luscious lips of hers to his. Hers were incredibly soft. Kissing them was akin to sinking into a cloud of perfume and pleasure.

Fargo cupped a breast and Lucretia groaned. He pinched a nipple and she ground herself against his pole.

“More of that, please,” she husked. “I like to build up to it.”

So did Fargo. Some men preferred to get it over with and go. Not him. Half the fun was getting there.

Lucretia removed his hat and tossed it onto a small table and ran her fingers through his hair. She kissed his ear and licked his neck and reached behind him to pull him against her.

Fargo returned the favor. He sucked on her tongue. He ran his hands over her breasts. He cupped her bottom and dug his fingernails in hard enough to elicit a gasp. She began to strip and he helped with a row of tiny buttons at the back. She had nothing on under her dress. Set free, her pendulous breasts hung halfway to her waist. Her hips flared wide above smooth thighs, the junction marked by a triangle thatch.

“Like what you see?”

Fargo grunted.

Lucretia tugged at his shirt and together they got it off.

“Look at all these muscles,” Lucretia said.

“There's one between my legs, too.”

Chuckling, Lucretia placed her hand on his pole. “Oh my. If it gets any higher, we could put a flag on it.”

Now it was Fargo who chuckled. Moving her toward the bed, he eased her onto her back and sat to remove his spurs.

One leg crooked and seductively swaying, Lucretia placed the tip of a painted nail on his shoulder blade and from there ran it down his spine. “I can't wait to have you inside of me.”

“Works out nice,” Fargo said, “since I can't wait to be in you.”

“You make me so hungry I could scream.”

“You're thinking of food at a time like this?” Fargo said, knowing perfectly well what she meant.

“Silly goose,” Lucretia teased. “I'm hungry for you. For that redwood of yours.”

Fargo dropped his spurs to the floor and unhitched his gun belt and turned. “Then let's get to it.”