Nevada Vipers' Nest by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe [Sharpe, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Westerns
ISBN: 9780451465504
Google: ZA5XmwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0451465504
Barnesnoble: 0451465504
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

12

Fargo and Sitch passed that night without incident, sleeping in a straw-lined stall near their horses. Bright and early the next morning they visited Sheriff Vance and Fargo turned in his badge.

“Fargo,” the sheriff said reluctantly, “I didn’t mean to run you off with that little talk yesterday.”

“I know that, Sheriff. And I won’t be running off until me and the horse thief here clear our names. There’s a few other things that have to be cleared up, too, and I’ll try like hell not to step on your toes. But Iron Mike Scully has got plenty of irons in the fire, and every damn one of them is somehow connected.”

Fargo omitted the details of his talk with Belle Star. But he filled the lawman in on the recent discovery of the megaphone, the bellows and the meeting place near Rough and Ready.

“It’s the sashes who are ‘haunting’ this valley,” he concluded, “and I got no doubt it was them who killed the Hightower family. Never mind that it doesn’t seem to add up. Scully is on to something big, so big that he’s packing heaven with fresh corpses, including women and kids. Yeah, you’re right that I got personal scores to settle with him. But this is a lot bigger than just him trying to execute me and Sitch.”

Vance took a sip of milk and cast his eyes downward.

“I know you’re right, Fargo. Hell, even quicksand would spit Scully back up. I’ve known for some time that him and that red sash bunch are lawless schemers, and I have tried to poke into this thing. But, son, I just ain’t the man I use to be. Just one hour pounding a saddle and I can barely climb off my horse. Hell, nowadays I have to fill my canteen with milk. I’m retiring at the end of this year and leaving this job to a younger man. But I’ll tell you straight from the shoulder—I trust you, and you got my blessing to handle this in your own way.”

The sheriff shifted his gaze to Sitch. “As for you—if you wasn’t siding Fargo, I’d’ve jugged you by now. You’re trouble on two sticks.”

“He is,” Fargo agreed. “And he’s beyond reforming. But I got a hunch he’ll come in handy before this deal is over. He’s green but he’s got grit in him. Once in a while he gets off a good joke, too.”

Sitch brightened. “Say, speaking of jokes—here’s a good one I heard in the Three Sisters. This old rancher walks into the tack room and catches his fifteen-year-old boy playing with himself. ‘Son,’ he says sternly, ‘you’d better stop doing that right now or you’ll eventually go blind.’ ‘Pa,’ the boy replies, never missing a stroke, ‘how ’bout if I quit when I need glasses?’”

The sheriff cast a baleful eye at Fargo. “Is that one of his better jokes?”

Fargo chuckled. “I thought it was pretty good.”

“Every man to his own gait. Here, Fargo, take this before you go. You’ll be needing it.

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