for Godâs sake. And you want to tangle with Apaches?â
âIt doesnât take much to squeeze a trigger.â
âNot everybody can. Some folks canât hurt another human being if they tried.â
âThey donât have cause,â Geraldine argued. âI do.â
Fargo raised the flask again. He might as well drink as much as he could before she demanded it back. Smacking his lips, he said, âYou have cause. Iâll grant you that.â
âThen youâll do it?â
âNo way in hell,â Fargo said bluntly.
Those nice lips of hers became a slit. âYouâre just like every other man Iâve ever met except for Hank. Pigheaded through and through.â
âListen to you,â Fargo said, and laughed. âWhat do they call that? Something about a pot and a kettle?â
âPoke fun. But I wonât be denied. If you refuse to let me help you, Iâll go by myself.â
âI didnât take you for dumb,â Fargo said. The notion of her waging war on the Apaches was plumb ridiculous. âYou wouldnât stand a prayer.â
âI donât care. Hank was everything to me. He took me out of a life I despised and made me whole again. For six months I was Mrs. Henry Waxler, the proudest woman alive. My heart was his for as long as we lived.â Geraldine stopped, her eyes glistening. âAnd now those redskins have crushed it. Theyâve taken him away from me, and my new life, besides. Iâm back where I was before he asked me to marry him. Back to having people look down their noses at me. Back to them thinking Iâm no good for nothing at all except one thing.â
âI donât think that.â
Geraldine blinked, and a tear trickled down her cheek. âI believe you. But youâre an exception. Lieutenant Bremmer, and I suspect Colonel Chivington, believe I used my body to entice Hank into marrying me. That I tricked him with my feminine wiles.â
âWho cares what they think?â
âI do. I know I shouldnât but I canât help it. And the enlisted men are even worse. They act as if they expect me to go back to my former ways any moment now.â
âThereâs no shortage of idiots,â Fargo said.
Despite herself, Geraldine smiled. âIsnât that the truth. Not many men are as understanding as you.â
âUnderstanding, hell,â Fargo said. âI like a good time under the sheets as much as anybody.â
âBut you donât think less of me because of how I used to make my living.â
âWeâve strayed off the trail,â Fargo said. âThis was about you going after the Apaches.â
âDonât think I wonât. I have my mind made up. With you or without you, I will avenge my Hank.â Rising, Geraldine smoothed her skirt. âKeep the flask. Consider it a gift.â Turning, she walked off.
âThatâs some gal,â Fargo said to himself. But he wasnât about to let her get herself killed. Heâd talk to the colonel, persuade Chivington to have her escorted to Tucson under guard.
Relaxing, he shook the flask to tell how much whiskey was left. About half, he reckoned. He treated himself to a few more sips, then reluctantly replaced the cap and slid the flask into a pocket. It wouldnât do to be caught with it by Bremmer or some other stickler for regulations.
Standing, Fargo stretched. The nap had done him some good. He felt rested and eager to do something, but what? Bending, he rolled up his blankets, tied one end of the bedroll and then the other.
The scuff of rapid footsteps behind him came too late. He tried to unfurl but a blow to his back pitched him to his hands and knees.
âIâve got you now, you son of a bitch.â
Fargo looked up.
It was Orley again, and he was holding a knife.
9
Fargo shook his head in disgust. âSome folks never learn.â
âYou hurt me,
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