High Country Horror by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe [Sharpe, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Action & Adventure, Westerns
ISBN: 9780451231772
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2003-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

12

Night had fallen by the time Fargo reached Haven. He was surprised to find clusters of people the length of the main street talking in hushed tones.

When he rode past they fell silent and stared. He wondered if another woman had gone missing.

The boardinghouse was quiet. A lamp glowed in the parlor. Helsa was on the settee, knitting, and on seeing him she rose and came over and put her hand on his chest.

“Finally, you’re back. Where have you been?”

“I was playing cat and mouse with the Ghoul,” Fargo informed her. “Any chance of getting something to eat after I wash up?”

“The Ghoul?” Helsa said. “How can that be when Marshal Tibbit has him behind bars?”

Fargo didn’t wait for an explanation. He turned and hurried out. More than a dozen townsmen were gathered in front of the jail and he had to shoulder through them. He overheard a few comments.

“... wait for the circuit judge ...”

“... we should try him ourselves ...”

“Try him, hell. He’s guilty as sin. We should take the son of a bitch out and string him up.”

The door was barred on the inside. Fargo knocked, and when no one came, he knocked louder.

“Who is it?” Marshal Tibbit asked.

Fargo told him. The bar grated and the door was flung wide and Tibbit pulled him inside and slammed the door shut.

“Thank God. I can use some help.” Tibbit replaced the bar and went to his desk and wearily sank into his chair. “You saw them out there?”

Fargo nodded.

“A while ago they demanded I turn him over to them but I refused.” Tibbit removed his hat and ran his sleeve across his perspiring brow. “They want to lynch him but I’ll be damned if they will.”

“Him?” Fargo said. The cell was shrouded in shadow and the figure on the cot in the corner had his back to them.

“I caught the killer,” Marshal Tibbit said proudly. “He rode into town and made the biggest mistake he could.” Tibbit opened a drawer and took out a blue bonnet and placed it on his desk. “The fool waved this around at the saloon for all to see. It belongs to Myrtle Spencer.”

Fargo went to the bars. “Hello, Badger.”

The prospector rolled over and bared his toothless grin. “Well, look who it is. Did you find the skin man?”

“He took shots at me.”

“And you’re still breathing? He’s a good shot. I saw him drop a buck once at pretty near two hundred yards.”

Tibbit came over. “You know this man?”

“We’ve met,” Fargo said.

“He won’t tell me his real name. Claims he took the bonnet from a pile of clothes but he won’t say where the pile was or anything about Myrtle.”

“He’s not the Ghoul,” Fargo said.

“I have my doubts,” Tibbit said. “But he had the bonnet and he wouldn’t or couldn’t explain how he got it so I had to arrest him. Word has spread. You saw them out there. They’ve pretty much made up their minds and want to hang him.”

“Your good citizens sure are fond of rope.

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