Texas Tangle by Jon Sharpe

Texas Tangle by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-11-08T00:00:00+00:00


20

“I can’t believe you trusted her,” Catherine McDonald said.

“But maybe you don’t know what she’s like.”

A couple of hours had gone by. The bar was still in place. Fargo was hunkered with his back to the door.

“We could have warned you about sweet Miranda,” Amy Sutter said. She was perched on a bed, her knees together, her elbows on her legs and her chin in her hands.

“Could we ever,” Catherine said. “From the moment I met her I didn’t like her.”

“She looks down her nose at everybody,” Amy said. “That poor man of hers had no notion he was being used.”

“Used?” Fargo repeated.

Amy nodded. “She married him to get away from her father. She came right out and told us that as soon as they reached California, she was throwing him over for somebody better.”

Fargo closed his eyes and sighed. He had been up since before dawn and here it was well into the night and he was tired and hungry and mad.

“Do you think the army will get here soon?” Amy asked.

“No.”

“They take too long, we’ll be in Mexico,” Catherine said, “and they can’t cross the border to come after us.” Her eyes misted. “I rue the day my folks decided we should move to Santa Fe.”

From outside came a commotion: yells and the pound of hooves and the whinny of a horse. A man bellowed for quiet. It sounded like Rooster Tremaine. Soon Fargo heard voices but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Someone thumped on the door. He jumped to his feet and backed into the corner not a moment too soon. The bar was removed and the door was flung wide.

“Come on out here,” Rooster Tremaine said.

Amy and Catherine started to obey.

“Not you two,” Rooster snapped. “The hombre who’s in here with you.”

Both women glanced at the corner and Amy said innocently, “What hombre?”

“Don’t make me come in there.” Rooster raised his voice. “You hear me, mister?”

“I hear you,” Fargo said.

“Holster your hardware and step out with your hands where we can see them. Try anything—anything at all—and we’ll put windows in your skull.”

Fargo did as they wanted.

A semicircle of rustlers and outlaws bristled with weapons. Some held torches. Behind them was the Ovaro and Sarabell’s horse and their pack animal.

Rooster Tremaine and Luther Tate stood next to the Gonzales brothers. Near Tremaine, her head bowed in despair, was Sarabell.

Fargo stood still as Luther Tate relieved him of the Colt. Up close, he could feel the potent force of the killer’s cold glare. “Nice to meet you,” he quipped.

Tate stepped back and didn’t say a word.

“In case you’re wondering how we knew you were inside—” Rooster said, and he stepped aside and gestured.

Miranda Crowley’s wrists were bound and she had a fresh bruise on her cheek but she stood with her shoulders squared and her chin high.

“Hell,” Fargo said.

“One of my men spotted her slinking off,” Rooster Tremaine revealed. “We followed her up the bluff and found Sarabell and the horses.”

“I would have gotten away if not for that cow,” Miranda said.



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