Arizona Renegades Read Online Free Page B

forget. Anytime you need a favor, you just ask.”
    It was rare to find a Texas cowhand taking a stage. Like Fargo, most punchers preferred to go everywhere on horseback. He made a comment to that effect.
    A lopsided grin creased Raidler’s mouth. “You’ve got that right, pardner. If I had my druthers, I’d rather ride a cactus than be cooped up with a passel of chatterbox city folks. But I got into a bit of a scrape and had to leave the Pecos country in a hurry.” The grin evaporated. “About rode my poor dun to death. I made it to the next town and sold her for stage fare. Caught the next one passin’ through, and here I am.”
    Fargo didn’t ask what sort of scrape Raidler had been involved in. It wouldn’t be considered polite. “Where’s this stage bound for? California?”
    “San Francisco,” Raidler confirmed. “But I’m only paid up as far as Tucson. I figure I can get a job with a local outfit and earn enough to buy a new horse before too long.”
    The St. Louis to San Francisco run was one of the longest routes operated by the Butterfield Overland Stage Company. Almost twenty-eight hundred miles, over some of the roughest terrain in all creation. Normally the trip took from twenty to twenty-five days, depending on weather and other factors. Heat, cold, rain, snow, dust—passengers endured them all. Small wonder most people regarded stage travel as an ordeal rather than a luxury.
    Fargo spotted the driver and the shotgun messenger off down the road. He turned to the Ovaro to fork leather but a sultry voice stopped him.
    “Leaving so soon, handsome? Whatever for? Don’t you like our company?” Melissa Starr had the vixenish ways of a woman who was supremely confidant of her beauty and who knew just how to use it to her best advantage. Fragrant perfume sheathed her like a cloud as she gave Fargo the sort of look no man could mistake.
    “The company is just fine,” Fargo said, hungrily roving his gaze over the swell of her breasts, then lower, to the enticing outline of her thighs. “But I’m headed east, not west.”
    “Too bad.” Melissa adopted a mock pout. “It might be fun to get to know one another a little better.”
    Over by the rear wheel, Hackman snorted in irritation. “Really, Miss Starr. Must you be so obvious? There is another lady present, you know. And some of us do have more morals than a randy goat.”
    Fargo stared hard at the bearded malcontent, who glared back a moment, then walked around to the far side of the coach. The man was a sterling example of why Fargo disliked stage travel.
    “I don’t know what his problem is,” Melissa remarked. “He’s been grumpy ever since he climbed on the stage in St. Louis. All he cares about is getting to California just as fast as he can.” She smiled at Fargo. “Some people just don’t know how to relax and enjoy life, do they? But I bet you do.”
    Fargo regretted not having met her at another time, another place. He had a feeling she would be a regular wildcat under the sheets, the kind of woman he would love to spend a couple of days with. “I do my best.”
    The drummer, Tucker, had been hovering nearby like a vulture waiting for an animal to die. Doffing his bowler to Melissa, he addressed Fargo. “Say, friend. I couldn’t help but overhear. You’re heading east? Then you must have a lot of country to cover. How are you fixed for starting fires? In my trunk I have some of the finest matches ever made. A new phosphorus kind. They’re called Instantaneous Lighters, and they’re guaranteed to work the first time, every time, or your money will be cheerfully refunded.”
    “Virgil, give your tongue a rest,” Melissa said when the drummer paused for breath.
    “My dear woman,” Tucker responded, “you can’t possibly expect me to pass up a potential sale. Selling is my life. It’s in my blood.” Shouldering her aside, he said to Fargo, “What do you say? A whole box of chemical marvels for only five dollars! Fifty