Montana Marauders by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

15

Sundown didn’t look any better than it had the first time Fargo had seen it, and the closer he got, the worse it looked.

The vultures didn’t help a bit. Fargo saw them before he saw the town. They floated lazily in a blue sky, circling down lower and lower for whatever it was that interested them in the road ahead.

When Fargo got nearer, he saw what they were after. There was a body hanging up against the fence on one side of the road. Several vultures sat on the fence, while a couple perched on the body. One was on the head, and another was on a shoulder, pulling at the face with its beak.

It had to be Stuver that they were having fun with, Fargo thought. When he passed by he could smell the decaying flesh, but there wasn’t enough left of the body’s face to be recognized. It was Stuver, though. The sheriff’s badge was still pinned to his shirt.

Welcome to Sundown, Fargo thought.

He rode Agnes on into town. Several people saw him, and he heard a few jibes about his mount and appearance. He didn’t let them bother him. He rode up to a water trough and got down to let the mule take a drink. He made sure to look as if he were stiff and sore from his ride.

Agnes drank noisily. When she was finished, Fargo led her to a hitch rail in front of a saloon. He looped the reins around the rail and gave the town a good look.

There wasn’t much to it, just the one long main street, lined with buildings that appeared to be mostly saloons, whorehouses, and hotels. A couple of stores and a livery stable were located at the end of the street. There were no houses at all, but Fargo wasn’t surprised. Most people in Sundown weren’t looking to settle there. They’d be moving on when they thought the time was right or when they believed the law wasn’t looking for them anymore.

“What’re you looking at, you old fart?”

It took Fargo a second to realize the man was talking to him.

“Wasn’t looking at anything,” he said, but now he turned his eyes to the man, keeping his head down so that it would be shadowed by the hat brim.

The man was tall and wide. He had a mean look about him, but then Fargo figured everybody in Sundown looked like that. Another man, smaller but just as mean-looking, stood beside him. They laughed at Fargo. The smaller one said, “He’s wondering who we are, Trask. You want to tell him?”

“Hell, no, Zack. You can tell him. Maybe he’ll get right back on that sorry-assed mule of his and ride out of here.”

“I’ll thank you not to talk that way about Agnes,” Fargo said.

“Agnes?” Trask said. “What the hell kind of a name is that?”

“It’s Agnes’ name,” Fargo said.

He started to step up on the boardwalk, but Trask put up a hand to stop him.

“You ain’t heard who we are, yet,” Trask said.

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