Fargo 13 by John Benteen

Author:John Benteen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sundance, soldier of fortune, western ebook, piccadilly publishing, john benteen, benjamin haas, neal fargo, pulp fiction western ebook, fargo western adventure
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Five

Fargo felt no real surprise, somehow, but he did feel a wild excitement and surge of curiosity that he masked. “Don’t hand me that crap,” he said. “I won’t pay that kind of price for it. They killed Double-Barrel Dogan years ago.”

“What they think they did and what they did is two different things,” Garfield said. “But a man like Dogan don’t die that easy. It’s Double-Barrel Dogan himself that you’re under the protection of if you hole in here. You pay what he charges, he’ll see no lawman ever lays a finger on you. You fall too far behind, we throw you out in the cold cruel world to hang. We might even turn you in for the reward ourselves; we get a lot of money that way when folks get in arrears. But as long as you treat us square and pay your rent, we’ll treat you square. Of course, there’s one little thing I ought to tell you. We’ve had spies in here from time to time. None of ’em ever got out alive. What we do with ’em is kill ’em, slit their bellies, stuff in rocks, and sink ’em in the river. If you’re a spy, you got to count on that.”

Fargo said, “I am not a spy.”

“We’ll know soon enough. Now, you want in or out?”

Fargo said, “I got to think—”

Garfield shoved back his chair, popped his fat rump out of it, and now the shotgun was aimed squarely at Fargo. “Man, your thinking time run out when you hit the river. I’ll buy your story if you shell out, and you better hope Dogan buys it, too. Now, you either pay something in advance or I get rid of you by pullin’ these triggers. I ain’t in a mood to palaver. I got me a new woman and she’s waitin’ in the other room.” His red lips lifted in a kind of smirk. “Dogan’s daughter. You don’t keep a gal like that hung up while you talk. You want in?”

Fargo looked into the threatening bores of his own shotgun. “I want in,” he said. “A hundred bucks worth, anyhow.” He brought five double eagles from his pocket, laid them on the table, and Garfield scooped them up.

“Five days,” Garfield said.

“And my weapons back.”

“Not all of ’em,” Garfield answered. “You get the Colt and knife, but the shotgun stays with me. It’s a present for Mr. Dogan.”

Fargo half came out of his chair. “Damn it, Garfield, that’s my gun.”

“Not any more. Mr. Dogan does admire good shotguns. We’ll give you two days on the books for this one, Fargo.”

“Two days on—”

“Be glad of that much.” Garfield’s eyes were almost lost in fat as they narrowed. “There’s another thing about the way we work, Fargo. Anybody kicks up a fuss, all the rest come down on him and lay him out. Mr. Dogan’s rules. You break bad, you’ll have twenty men against you in no time. The way Double-Barrel Dogan works, either you’re with him, in which case you pay your money and live a long time, or you’re again’ him.

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