Thunderhead Trail Read Online Free Page A

his hand, saying, “Mister, you have done us a favor. Those three have been the terrors of the territory for some spell now.”
    â€œI wish you’d just shot them,” said someone else.
    Fargo turned and offered his own hand to Dirk Peters. “I’m obliged for the help.”
    â€œHell, it wasn’t nothing,” Dirk said.
    Fargo did the same to Rafer Crown, saying, “Heard tell of you down to Denver.”
    â€œHeard of you all over,” Crown said.
    â€œAre you here after the bounty, too?” Dirk Peters asked.
    â€œI don’t hunt men for money,” Fargo said. Which wasn’t entirely true. He’d done it a couple of times but would never take it up as a profession. He liked scouting too much.
    â€œWho said anything about a man?” Dirk Peters said, and chuckled.
    â€œThis bounty is for a bull,” Rafer Crown said.
    Fargo wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “A what?”
    â€œA bull,” Crown repeated himself.
    â€œThe most valuable in the country, or damn near,” Dirk Peters said.
    Before Fargo could ask them to explain, the bartender returned with a blanket and a bottle of Monongahela.
    â€œI reckoned this would do you better than a glass.”
    â€œYou reckoned right,” Fargo said. He took both and wheeled to go but the bartender had more to say.
    â€œOne more thing. That Rance Hollister doesn’t own just one Sharps. He totes two on his saddle, one on either side.”
    Fargo had never heard of anyone doing that.
    The bartender went on. “It wouldn’t surprise me none if he only went a short way and is out there waiting to pick you off.”
    â€œHell,” Fargo said.

7
    Fargo poked his head over the batwings and looked both ways. The street was still deserted expect for the forlorn naked figure a block away.
    A cloud of dust to the west assured him that the three brothers were, in fact, gone.
    Still, Fargo hugged the buildings until he was almost to Candice and then crossed to her and spread the blanket.
    Her head was bowed, her hair over her face as before. She started when he draped the blanket over her shoulders and stiffened in alarm.
    â€œIt’s only me,” Fargo said. “You’re safe now.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t,” Candice said. “The one who did this to me—”
    â€œThey’re gone.”
    â€œOh,” Candice said. “I heard horses but I didn’t look.”
    Fargo parted her hair. Her swollen eye was worse, her cheek a dark black and blue.
    â€œDid you have anything to do with their leaving?”
    â€œI did,” Fargo said.
    Candice managed a smile. “I don’t think I ever caught your name.”
    Fargo told her and held up the bottle. “Care for some firewater?”
    â€œI damn well would.”
    Fargo opened it and offered it to her. She didn’t take just a sip. She tilted it and gulped. A third of the bottle was gone when she handed it back.
    â€œI’m grateful.”
    â€œHell, woman,” Fargo said. “You did know that’s whiskey and not water?”
    Candice laughed, and winced. “It never affects me for some reason. I can drink all day and all night and never get drunk.”
    â€œWe must be twins.”
    She laughed again, and a lot of the tension and misery drained away. “Listen to you, Skye Fargo. You are my new favorite person.”
    â€œHow about I get you back to the saloon?”
    â€œWearing a blanket? Hell no. How about you take me to my place. It’s just up the street a ways.”
    â€œNeed a hand?”
    â€œNo.”
    Fargo noticed that she sagged and moved stiffly so he put his arm around her anyway. “Here,” he said.
    Candice fixed her good eye on him. “Why are you being so nice?”
    â€œI like your tits.”
    She snickered, then snorted, then burst out laughing and stopped herself to say, “Damn you. Don’t do that. It hurts when I