The Trailsman 317 by Jon Sharpe Page A

she pleaded and begged and wailed for him to stop.
    No one was disposed to help her. Certainly not Skagg’s men, some of whom laughed and whooped for Skagg to hit her harder.
    Fargo had taken it as long as he could. Tamar was groveling on her belly and moaning pitiably when he pushed back his chair and stood. Bending, he gripped the chair by the legs and walk up behind Skagg. Someone shouted a warning, and Skagg turned. It was then Fargo swung, smashing the chair with all his might across Malachi Skagg’s face. Skagg’s nose made a crunching sound, the chair splintered, and Skagg collapsed in a sprawl.
    Several of Skagg’s men started toward them but changed their minds when Fargo’s Colt leaped from his holster to his hand. He helped Tamar to her feet. She could not stop thanking him, and urged him to get out of there before Skagg came around.
    â€œYou don’t know him like I do. He will kill you, mister. But only after he whittles on you some.”
    Fargo had sought to convince her to gather up her possessions and light a shuck with him. He even offered to take her as far as Denver. But she declined.
    Undaunted, Fargo had finished his meal, and then left. He never counted on stopping there again, and put the incident from his mind. Then along came Mabel Landry and her search for her missing brother, and now here he was, tempting Skagg’s wrath.
    â€œWell?” Mabel prompted. “You haven’t answered me.”
    â€œIt seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Fargo said.
    â€œThere must be more to it than that. Why won’t you come right out and say?”
    Before Fargo could answer, the vegetation crackled and out flew Binder. He came straight to them, glancing repeatedly to his rear, fear writ large on his face. “You are about to have company!” he breathlessly exclaimed. “It is the big man himself! Remember, I was never here.” He raced on past them and into the woods on the other side of the clearing.
    â€œWhat do we do?” Mabel asked.
    â€œWe stay calm,” Fargo said. But it took every ounce of will he possessed not to grab her hand and seek cover. Leaning back against his saddle, he took a sip of hot coffee.
    Malachi Skagg did not sneak up on them. He strode into the clearing flanked by four of his pack of human wolves. At a gesture from him, they stopped and he came over to the fire.
    â€œMr. Skagg!” Mabel cheerfully greeted him. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
    â€œI am looking for one of my men,” Skagg said. “His name is Binder, and he was last seen headed this way.”
    â€œI am afraid I do not know the man,” Mabel said. “What would he want with us?”
    â€œThat is what I want to know,” Skagg replied. “I gave orders that no one is to come anywhere near you without my say-so.”
    â€œWhy on earth would you do a thing like that?” Mabel feigned innocence.
    Fargo lowered the tin cup. “He doesn’t want you to find out the truth about your brother.”
    Skagg’s less than handsome face was made uglier by his hate. “What truth would that be? The one where he got his throat slit by the Untillas? Or caught in an avalanche? Or maybe eaten by a griz?”
    â€œOr maybe killed by you?” Fargo said.
    â€œGive me a reason for me to have him planted,” Skagg countered. “I don’t go around killing folks for the fun of it.”
    â€œI don’t have one,” Fargo admitted, adding meaningfully, “yet.”
    Skagg’s smile was ice and spite. “When your time comes, you will die slow and you will die hard, and you will scream the whole time.”
    Mabel wagged a finger in reproach. “That was mean. Did you treat my brother the same way you treat Fargo?”
    â€œHell, no,” Skagg said. “He was an infant, and it is no fun to pick on infants. Most won’t fight back, and those that do can’t