month when he spotted a Comanche war party down in Texas, or the month before that when he’d encountered a grizzly in the high country. They were hired killers. Nothing more, nothing less.
Arthur Draypool wasn’t a complete fool. “I can send them on ahead if they bother you,” he offered.
Avril and Zeck exchanged glances, and the taller man said, “We advise against that, sir. Outlaws infest these Missouri hills. It’s not safe.”
“Mr. Fargo will protect me,” Draypool said. “Both of you are aware of his reputation. I would be in good hands.”
“But not our hands,” Zeck said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but he isn’t on your payroll. He doesn’t give a damn if you live or die.”
“And you do?” Fargo broke in.
Avril and Zeck nodded in unison, and the former replied, “We like working for Mr. Draypool. He pays well for our services.”
“Extremely well,” Zeck amended.
“And we would not take it kindly if anything were to happen to him,” Avril warned.
Zeck nodded. “We would not take it well at all.”
To Draypool, Avril said, “We will go if you insist, sir, but we will not go far. We will not let you out of our sight.”
Vern Zeck nodded. “We will watch over you whether you want us to or not.”
“It’s up to Mr. Fargo,” Draypool said. “I will abide by his decision, whatever it might be.”
Fargo had not changed his opinion of the pair. If anything, he distrusted them even more. But it occurred to him that it was better to keep them close so he could keep an eye on them. “They can tag along.”
Draypool’s relief was transparent. “I thank you, most sincerely. The truth is, I couldn’t get by without them. They have been my right and left hands for several years. I rely on them for much more than you can imagine.”
“If you say so.” Fargo gigged the Ovaro. “Let’s head out. It’s a long ride to Springfield and I don’t aim to be at this all year.” He had gone only a hundred yards when hooves clattered and Arthur Draypool brought his mount alongside the pinto and paced it.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be?” Fargo evaded the question.
“I don’t know. But I have the distinct feeling you are.” Draypool waited, and when the seconds stretched on in silence, he coughed and said, “Perhaps we should talk this out. As you noted, we have a long journey ahead, and it won’t do to spend it upset. Surely that is reasonable?”
“All I care about is the ten thousand.”
“As well you should,” Draypool said. “But there is a lot at stake, and it would help matters if we can get along.”
“Maybe I’m the wrong man for the job,” Fargo said.
“No!” Draypool practically came out of the saddle. “Trust me. No one is more suited. You are just the person we need. A lot of careful planning has gone into this operation.”
Fargo could think of half a dozen scouts able to track the Sangamon River Monster, and said so.
“Undoubtedly they could,” Draypool said. “But you are the one we want. No one else will suffice.”
“Why not?” In Fargo’s estimation they were making more of him than he deserved. “Frontiersmen are as common as grass west of the Mississippi.”
“But not ones with your talents,” Draypool said.
“Not ones who have your experience. Not ones whose tracking skills rival an Apache’s.” He grinned like the proverbial cat that ate the proverbial canary. “You see, I have studied up on you. I have read every newspaper article, every lurid periodical. I know where you were born. I know that if you were in the habit of carving notches on your revolver, you would need a revolver as big as the moon.”
“You have me all figured out,” Fargo dryly commented.
Draypool giggled. “I flatter myself that I do, yes. When engaging in an enterprise of this nature, it is wise to learn all one can.”
“What makes this different from any other manhunt?” Fargo asked.
“The nature of the quarry. You would not hire
Arthur Draypool wasn’t a complete fool. “I can send them on ahead if they bother you,” he offered.
Avril and Zeck exchanged glances, and the taller man said, “We advise against that, sir. Outlaws infest these Missouri hills. It’s not safe.”
“Mr. Fargo will protect me,” Draypool said. “Both of you are aware of his reputation. I would be in good hands.”
“But not our hands,” Zeck said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but he isn’t on your payroll. He doesn’t give a damn if you live or die.”
“And you do?” Fargo broke in.
Avril and Zeck nodded in unison, and the former replied, “We like working for Mr. Draypool. He pays well for our services.”
“Extremely well,” Zeck amended.
“And we would not take it kindly if anything were to happen to him,” Avril warned.
Zeck nodded. “We would not take it well at all.”
To Draypool, Avril said, “We will go if you insist, sir, but we will not go far. We will not let you out of our sight.”
Vern Zeck nodded. “We will watch over you whether you want us to or not.”
“It’s up to Mr. Fargo,” Draypool said. “I will abide by his decision, whatever it might be.”
Fargo had not changed his opinion of the pair. If anything, he distrusted them even more. But it occurred to him that it was better to keep them close so he could keep an eye on them. “They can tag along.”
Draypool’s relief was transparent. “I thank you, most sincerely. The truth is, I couldn’t get by without them. They have been my right and left hands for several years. I rely on them for much more than you can imagine.”
“If you say so.” Fargo gigged the Ovaro. “Let’s head out. It’s a long ride to Springfield and I don’t aim to be at this all year.” He had gone only a hundred yards when hooves clattered and Arthur Draypool brought his mount alongside the pinto and paced it.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be?” Fargo evaded the question.
“I don’t know. But I have the distinct feeling you are.” Draypool waited, and when the seconds stretched on in silence, he coughed and said, “Perhaps we should talk this out. As you noted, we have a long journey ahead, and it won’t do to spend it upset. Surely that is reasonable?”
“All I care about is the ten thousand.”
“As well you should,” Draypool said. “But there is a lot at stake, and it would help matters if we can get along.”
“Maybe I’m the wrong man for the job,” Fargo said.
“No!” Draypool practically came out of the saddle. “Trust me. No one is more suited. You are just the person we need. A lot of careful planning has gone into this operation.”
Fargo could think of half a dozen scouts able to track the Sangamon River Monster, and said so.
“Undoubtedly they could,” Draypool said. “But you are the one we want. No one else will suffice.”
“Why not?” In Fargo’s estimation they were making more of him than he deserved. “Frontiersmen are as common as grass west of the Mississippi.”
“But not ones with your talents,” Draypool said.
“Not ones who have your experience. Not ones whose tracking skills rival an Apache’s.” He grinned like the proverbial cat that ate the proverbial canary. “You see, I have studied up on you. I have read every newspaper article, every lurid periodical. I know where you were born. I know that if you were in the habit of carving notches on your revolver, you would need a revolver as big as the moon.”
“You have me all figured out,” Fargo dryly commented.
Draypool giggled. “I flatter myself that I do, yes. When engaging in an enterprise of this nature, it is wise to learn all one can.”
“What makes this different from any other manhunt?” Fargo asked.
“The nature of the quarry. You would not hire
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