Blood Wedding

11

Two days passed without any real excitement, which was all right with Fargo. He needed the rest.

Sarah Johnson was buried quietly and without incident, and on the very afternoon of her burial, Rip showed up at Lem’s house, asking for Lem.

Fargo didn’t hear what the two of them talked about, but Abby told him later that Rip had asked her father for permission to come courting her.

“Can you believe the gall of that man?” she said. “His wife hasn’t been in the grave more than an hour. She’s hardly cold in the ground, and he shows up here asking to come around to badger me.”

“He didn’t say he wanted to badger you, did he?” Fargo said.

“It doesn’t matter what he said. It comes down to the same thing.”

Fargo knew it wasn’t funny, but he couldn’t help grinning.

“What did Lem tell him?”

“He told him that it was indecent to talk about any such of a thing until his wife had been dead for at least six months.”

“How did Rip take it?”

“You’d think he’d have been ashamed, but not him. You couldn’t shame him if you tried. He said that out here a man needs a wife and that he couldn’t afford to wait. He and his wife never had any family, and he wanted to have some children to help out on the farm.” Abby shuddered. “I don’t want to think about him touching me, much less doing anything else.”

“Maybe in six months he’ll have found himself somebody else.”

“He better have. He’s never getting his hands on me, I can tell him that.”

The way she said it, and the fierce look on her face, convinced Fargo that she meant every word of it.

Tom Talley was buried even more quietly than Sarah Johnson had been. None of the farmers wanted to leave their homes and property long enough for a proper funeral, so hardly anyone was there to hear the preacher say a few words and a prayer.

Molly Doyle was part of the small group at both funerals, as was Fargo. Molly told Fargo that she came because she liked both people, and, after all, she didn’t have a house to protect, unless she counted Talley’s. She figured that one wasn’t hers quite yet, though she told Fargo she was making some progress with the bank. She thought she would be the new owner within a few days.

Fargo went to the funerals because he thought there was a chance Murray might show up and try to get a little more revenge. But it didn’t happen, and Fargo hoped that Murray had given up harassing the farmers. He knew, however, that most likely wasn’t the case. Murray was probably waiting for the release of his daughter before becoming active again.

As for Angel, she improved rapidly. Her shoulder would have healed even faster if Abby hadn’t pounded on it during their scuffle, but even with that extra bit of stress, it did just fine. The wound would leave a scar, but only a small one, and Angel was feeling fine. There was really no reason to keep her at the Watkins place any longer. She had served her purpose, and Fargo wanted to keep his end of the bargain by letting her go back to her father.

“You know that if she goes back to that marauder, he’ll be right back up to his old tricks again,” Lem said. “We ought to keep her here as long as we can.”

“We ought to do worse than that,” Abby said, looking entirely too bloodthirsty to suit Fargo.

“If she stays here, someone will have to watch her all the time,” Fargo pointed out. “She’s already gotten away from us once, so we might even have to tie her up. And you’ll have to feed her. I don’t see the sense in going to all the trouble and expense.”

He had something else in mind, too, but he didn’t want to mention it.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to let her go, I guess,” Lem said.

It was clear that neither he nor Abby was fond of the idea, but they had to admit that they weren’t any fonder of having to keep Angel in the house for much longer.

“Murray might get it in his head to come after her,” Lem said. “And that wouldn’t be any good. No telling what kind of damage he’d do to this place if he got her away from us. Look at what he did to Molly’s.”

“We should go after him first,” Abby said. “Root him out of wherever it is he’s hiding, and take care of him and his whole gang once and for all.”

For a day or so, Fargo had thought the farmers might actually band together. There was some talk of it, but it died down without any action being taken. Lem had been right. If they’d been fighters, they wouldn’t have chosen farming as a way to make a living.

“No chance of this bunch around here getting organized against Murray,” Lem said. “No matter how bad things get.”

“Maybe when Angel goes back, he’ll move somewhere else,” Fargo said.

Lem shook his head. “No chance of that, either. He knows he has us cowed. Why take a chance on a new herd?”

Fargo didn’t have any answer for that one. He said, “Angel has to leave anyway. I’ll go tell her.”

He pushed his chair back from the kitchen table where they were sitting and went in to talk to Angel.

She didn’t appear entirely unhappy to see him. For the last day or so, there had been something like interest in her eyes every time Fargo entered the room. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he had a feeling that she wasn’t used to having a man treat her as a woman instead of just another member of the gang.

From what Fargo knew of him, Murray didn’t seem to be the kind of man who’d take it kindly if one of his hirelings showed any interest in Angel, so it might be that she didn’t often have a man paying any attention to her at all, for fear that Murray might cut off his ears, or some other vital part of his anatomy. Fargo thought that maybe Jed was the last man who’d had anything to do with her. Jed wouldn’t have been afraid of Murray.

“I think it’s about time you were going back to your father,” Fargo said, standing in the doorway and looking at Angel, who was sitting up in the soft bed with several pillows at her back.

The light came in through the window and shone on her hair, which seemed even blacker because of it. Her blue eyes glowed. She was wearing one of Abby’s cotton gowns, which was much too small for her and failed to do much to conceal the bounty of her breasts. Fargo could see the firm nipples pressing against the tight fabric. He didn’t look away, and Angel didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you sure you want me to leave?” she asked him.

Fargo raised his eyes to hers, and he could see that she was amused. There wasn’t much doubt she knew the effect her appearance was having on him.

I think it would be best for everybody around here,” Fargo said. “Your father wants you back, and I told him we’d let you leave when you were ready. You are ready, aren’t you?”

“I’m always ready,” Angel said.

Fargo wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, though he was almost certain she didn’t exactly mean she was ready to go back to Murray.

Angel smoothed the front of the gown with her hands, running them over her breasts and tightening the fabric even more. Fargo thought that her breasts would burst right on through if she wasn’t careful. But maybe that was what she wanted. He knew damn well he wouldn’t mind.

“What about you, Fargo?” she said. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as any man you’ll ever meet,” Fargo said, deciding to join in the game.

Angel looked directly at his crotch, where he could feel his manhood thickening and stirring around.

“I can see you’re not lying to me,” she said. “I like a man who’s not afraid to tell the truth.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you some more. The truth is that you can’t stay here anymore. Lem can’t afford to keep feeding you, and I’m tired of sleeping in the barn.”

“I’d think somebody in the house might offer to share a bed with you.”

In fact, Abby had made the offer, but Fargo had turned her down. It was too risky to fool around with Lem in the house, and sober to boot. Fargo had considered paying Molly a visit at Talley’s place, but that hadn’t seemed like such a good idea, either.

“Lem offered, but I think he snores,” Fargo said. “I can’t tolerate a man who snores.”

“Do you snore, Fargo?”

“Not that I know of, but then I’m a sound sleeper. You’ll have to find out about the snoring for yourself.”

“I might do that one of these days. But not right now. Right now, I guess you want me to get dressed.”

“That’s the idea. But first I thought you might want to show your gratitude for being taken care of so well.”

“How did you think I’d go about doing that?”

“You could thank Lem and Abby for giving you a bed and for changing your bandages. And for feeding you.”

Angel stopped smiling. “I’m not thanking anybody. I wouldn’t have to be taken care of if you hadn’t shot me.”

“I only did that because I had to,” Fargo said. “You would have done the same if you found yourself in that situation.”

“I don’t think so. I’d have fought it out.”

“And gotten killed? I don’t think so. There’s a time and a season for everything, a time for fighting and a time for saving your life.”

“That sounds like something from the Bible.”

“That’s not from the Bible. It’s from the Book of Fargo, chapter three, verse four.”

“No matter where it’s from, I have to admit, I’m kind of glad you didn’t get killed.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If you’re lucky, you might find out someday.” Angel shoved the covers off. “Now if you’ll get out of here, I’ll put my clothes on.”

“I might as well stay,” Fargo said. “I don’t want you to escape.”

“You’re letting me go, remember? You just want to get a look at something you’re not going to see. You’re not that lucky, Fargo. Not today. Now get out of here before I raise a ruckus.”

Fargo didn’t want that, so he moved out of the doorway.

“And close the door,” Angel said.

Fargo did, but he was sorry he had to.

After Angel was dressed, Abby gave her some lunch. Neither woman spoke to the other while Angel ate, and Fargo stayed out of the way.

When Angel had eaten, Fargo went with her to the barn to help saddle her horse. Her arm still wasn’t strong enough for a job like that, no matter how nicely it was healing.

When the horse was saddled, Angel managed to swing herself up on its back without any help from Fargo, who didn’t even offer. She didn’t look as if she would have appreciated it.

She settled herself in the saddle and said, “You’re not going to try to follow me, are you?”

“Never even gave it a thought,” Fargo lied.

It had been his plan from the beginning to follow her back to her father’s hiding place. He had promised to take care of her, but he hadn’t promised anything else.

“You couldn’t do it anyway,” she said. “So I’m not worried about it. Too much open country around here. I could see you a long way off.”

Fargo knew that well enough. But Angel didn’t know about his tracking abilities. He could trail her from so far back that she’d never know he was there. And if he could discover Murray’s whereabouts, it was possible he could talk the farmers into getting together and mounting a sneak attack. It would be one way to pay Murray back for Jed.

Maybe that thought didn’t make Fargo any better than Murray, but at least Fargo didn’t spend his time preying on other people.

“I’ll be on my way, then,” Angel said. “It’s too bad we didn’t meet a different way, Fargo. It might have been interesting.”

“It could still be interesting,” Fargo said. “You don’t have to live the way you do.”

“That’s what Jed thought. But he was wrong, and you see what happened to him.”

“I’ve been wondering about that,” Fargo said, but Angel wouldn’t let him continue.

“It doesn’t pay to wonder,” she said. “A man can get in a lot of trouble that way, and I don’t want to make any more trouble for you. You’re in enough trouble already.”

Fargo didn’t have to ask what she meant by that. He had a feeling that Murray might be after him again as soon as Angel was safe. Angel went on to confirm that he was right.

“Pa blames you for what happened to Paul,” she said. “It’s not just that you killed him. You put him in that shallow hole and called it a burying.”

“He wouldn’t have been killed or buried, either, if he’d stayed away from here.”

“That’s not the way we Murrays look at things.”

Angel turned the horse’s head and started to ride away. After the horse had gone a few paces, she pulled up on the reins and looked back over her shoulder.

“If you were smart,” she said, “you’d get back to wherever it is you came from and leave these farmers to us.”

“I never was too smart,” Fargo said. “Not smart enough to run out on my friends, anyhow.”

“Too bad. But at least I tried to warn you. I guess you just like trouble too much.”

“I don’t like trouble. It just seems to come my way now and then.”

“It wouldn’t if you’d mind your own business.”

“Maybe I’m just too curious.”

“You know what they say about curiosity and the cat?”

“I’ve heard about it,” Fargo said. “Can’t say as I ever believed it, though. Cats have nine lives, after all.”

“And I don’t believe that,” Angel said. “So long, Fargo.”

She turned and snapped the reins. The horse started off at a walk, but before she’d gone too far, she urged it to go faster. She was such a good rider that she didn’t bounce enough to bother her shoulder.

Fargo watched her until she was almost out of sight. Then he saddled the Ovaro and went after her.

Fargo had no trouble at all following the tracks of Angel’s horse. It was almost as if she wanted to be followed, he thought, so he was wary of a trap. Not that there was any place to trap him.

He rode across fields, past cornfields and farmhouses, always staying so far back that there was no chance of Angel catching a glimpse of him. She didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, so Fargo dawdled along as slowly as he could.

It wasn’t long before he knew where Angel was headed. She was riding right toward the creek, and she would enter the trees that grew along it not far from the spot where her brother had first been buried. If she got into the trees, she might have a better chance of losing him, but Fargo didn’t think she would. He could track her there as easily as he could out in the open.

But Angel was taking no chances, as Fargo learned when he reached the creek bank. The sun came through the tree limbs and sketched shadows on the ground. The water in the creek was shallow and slow-moving, and Angel had ridden right into it.

It didn’t take Fargo long to discover that she hadn’t ridden out on the other side.

He sat on the Ovaro for a minute and thought about it. He had only two choices, left or right. He could take one direction for a while and then the other. It shouldn’t take him too long to find out where she’d left the stream, unless she hadn’t left it at all. If she hadn’t, she might lose him if he didn’t make the right choice.

He turned the horse’s head to the right. Might as well try in that direction first, he thought. The trees grew close to the water in places, and there might be some sign of her passing. If there wasn’t, he’d go back and try the other way.

After he’d gone a couple of hundred yards down the narrow, winding waterway, the banks grew steeper on either side of him, and the trees grew more thickly. It wouldn’t have been easy to ride a horse up the muddy banks, and Fargo was beginning to think it was time to turn around and go back the other way. But then he saw up ahead of him a cut in the bank, begun when water from some heavy rain in the past had found a crack in the earth and rushed into the creek, leaving a track for water to flow through later.

Fargo rode up to the cut and saw the tracks of Angel’s horse leading up the bank. He turned the Ovaro’s head and followed the tracks.

He didn’t have far to go.

In the trees a few yards ahead, Angel was waiting for him.