Flathead Fury

18

“How?” Sally Brook blurted.

“A window, my dear,” Mike Durn answered. “You locked the doors but neglected to latch all the windows.” He held out a hand to Fargo. “I will take that pistol, if you don’t mind, and even if you do.”

The ring of gun muzzles were a powerful persuader. Using two fingers, Fargo gripped the butt and slowly slid the Remington from his holster.

“Now then,” Durn said, tossing the revolver to Kutler, “we can get to the matter at hand.”

Sally Brook could not shake her shock. She had a hand to her throat and her eyes were saucers. “How did you find out he was here? From Mrs. Garbundy?”

“That worthless old hag?” Durn laughed. “Don’t blame her. It was your own fault.”

“What did I do?”

“You closed your shop. One of my men saw you hang out the closed sign. I thought nothing of it at the time. But about an hour ago I came outside for some air and saw that it was still closed.”

“Oh, no,” Sally groaned.

“Oh, yes,” Mike Durn said, enjoying her distress. “I sent someone to snoop around. Someone who can be as quiet as a cat.” He grinned at Fargo. “Someone who has a lot in common with you.” Shifting toward a far corner, he beckoned. “You may come out now.”

A shadow moved and assumed the form and substance of a small man carrying a big rifle. “Did you miss me?” Tork sarcastically asked.

“Took you long enough to get back here,” Fargo said.

The small man came into the light and a dark stain on his shirt was visible. “Do you see this?” he hissed. “This is your doing. One of your shots glanced off a rib.”

“I tried to do better.”

Tork could not contain his hatred. Lunging, he drove the heavy stock of his Sharps into Fargo’s ribs.

Pain exploded up Fargo’s chest and he doubled over. He tensed for another blow but Big Mike Durn had caught hold of Tork’s wrist.

“No more of that!”

“He has it coming!” Tork raged, trying to break free.

“And he will get his due,” Durn assured him. “But in the pit, against Caesar. Think of it. You will see them torn limb from limb! Would you deprive us of the spectacle?”

It was Sally who spoke. “Them?” she repeated.

Durn let go of Tork, who stepped back but kept glaring his spite at Fargo. “Ah, yes, my dear. I am afraid you have done the one thing that would change how I feel about you.”

“I don’t understand.”

Big Mike chuckled. “I sent Tork to look around, remember? He snuck in through the open window and saw you and your new friend asleep in your bed in a state of undress.”

“Oh, God.”

Fargo marveled at his own lapse. For once his keen senses had let him down, and he had not woken up.

“After all these months of courting you,” Durn went on, “you go and make love to another man. I must admit I am disappointed.” But more than disappointment was mirrored on Durn’s face; his blazing eyes and the quirk of his jaw muscles betrayed rising fury. “You slept with another man,” he said again, snarling each syllable.

“Please, Mike—” Sally began.

“Enough!” Durn roared, motioning for her to be silent. “I have put up with all the lies I am going to. You have deceived me for the last time.” He seized her by the arm and nodded at Fargo. “Since you think so highly of him, it is only fitting that you share his fate.”

“But the pit,” Sally said, and shuddered. “He told me about it, told me what you do down there.”

“He has spoiled the surprise,” Durn said in mock disappointment, and shrugged. “Oh, well. It will still be glorious entertainment. Now all I need to decide is whether to throw you in together or one at a time.”

At Durn’s command, Fargo was seized by two men. Kutler and Tork covered him as they marched back to the saloon. They went the back way, and Durn was careful not to be seen.

Fargo could guess why. Throwing Indian maidens to a wild beast was one thing; a lot of whites did not care one whit about Indians. But feeding a white woman to the thing, a well-liked white woman, at that, was bound to arouse Polson’s populace as nothing else could.

Sally did not say a word the whole time. She hung her head in despair, as if she had given up all hope. Fargo said her name to get her attention, and was jabbed hard in the back by Tork, who snapped at him to shut up.

The stink of the beast filled the stairwell. In the tunnel the reek was worse. As they went past the iron door with the grille, fierce snarling came through the grille.

Big Mike Durn chuckled. “Hear that? Caesar is hungry. He will feed well tonight.”

Sally stirred and gazed aghast at the metal door. “What sort of beast do you keep in there?”

“Ah. So Fargo hasn’t told you everything,” Durn said. “What say we let you find out for yourself?”

Sudden scratching on the metal caused Sally to cringe. “This can’t be happening.”

Several of the men laughed.

“It’s a wolverine,” Fargo said.

Mike Durn stopped in midstep, and turned. “How in hell did you know that? Who told you?”

Fargo sniffed loudly several times. “The wolverine did.”

“So you have encountered one before?” Durn said. “Good. Then you know what the two of you are in for. Caesar is not as big as a bear or as quick as a cougar but he is formidable in his own right.”

Fargo did not doubt it. Wolverines were widely feared for two traits: their ferocity and their toughness. Legend had it wolverines even drove grizzlies from their kills, although Fargo had never witnessed it with his own eyes.

Sally was horror-struck. “Surely you wouldn’t!” she appealed to Durn.

“On the contrary, my dear. You will not be the first. Well, not the first woman, at any rate.” Durn indicated Tork. “You can thank him for how you will shortly meet your Maker. He caught the thing and brought it to me alive.”

“Took some doing, too,” Tork said proudly.

“He thought I might want to have it skinned and keep the hide as a rug,” Mike Durn said. “But right away I saw that the monster could be put to a much better use.” He beamed. “Just think. It is a foolproof way to dispose of my enemies. I have the remains hauled off into the woods, and when, as happens on occasion, those remains are found, wild animals are blamed. Usually that old bear, One Ear.”

“God help us,” Sally breathed.

Big Mike chortled. “I am afraid the Almighty can’t hear you. He hasn’t heard the others I have fed to my pet, and some of them screamed for divine help at the top of their lungs.”

“Word will get out!” Sally grasped at a straw. “People will hear. They will report you to the law or the army.”

“Without proof, what can the law or the army do?” Durn responded. “Besides, I only let those who work for me and a few others I know I can trust watch the feeding. They have a grand time.”

They came to the oval earthen chamber at the end of the tunnel. It was empty save for the pit.

Fargo leaned over the edge for a look. Ten feet deep, with sheer sides, the bottom was stained dark in spots, the dirt furrowed with claw marks. That was not all. A fresh kill lay where the person had fallen. The face had been eaten away and not much was left of the stomach and the thighs, but Fargo knew it was the Blackfoot girl he had seen the other day.

Sally looked and turned as pale as an albino. “You can’t do this to me,” she pleaded.

“I take it you have not been paying attention,” Big Mike mocked her.

“But I am white!”

Big Mike took a step back in feigned astonishment. “Did you hear her, Fargo? Did you hear her bare her soul?”

“I heard,” Fargo said.

“What are you on about?” Sally said. “I was just pointing out that what you intend to do is foul and indecent.”

“Because you are white,” Durn taunted.

“Were I red or black it would be the same,” Sally persisted. “It is not the skin color. It is the contemptible deed.”

“Make up excuses all you want. The truth is, my dear, that when we strip away all your talk about how unfair the white man has been to the red man and how we should bend over backward for them and give them all the land they want and feed them and clothe them, you see yourself as different from them. As better.”

“That is absurd.”

“Is it?” Durn countered. “You want to save the squaws I have working for me but you are too good to share their fate.”

“It is a fearful end for anyone,” Sally said.

“Do you live in the same world I do?” Durn asked. “The one where those heathen savages you care so much about go around killing and raping and mutilating?”

“The Flatheads have not acted up in years,” Sally countered. “You can’t blame them or any of the other tribes in the region for what happened to your parents.”

“Watch me,” Durn declared heatedly. He ushered them around to the far side of the pit and told them to sit. “It will be a while yet, and you look haggard, my former dear.”

Sally slumped down, her blond locks spilling over her face.

Lowering to her side, Fargo said softly so the others wouldn’t hear, “Snap out of it. We aren’t dead yet.”

“But we will be,” Sally said, nearly in tears. “What chance do we have, unarmed and defenseless, against a wolverine?”

“No chance at all if we give up before they throw us in the pit,” Fargo criticized her.

Big Mike was huddled with Kutler and Tork. At length Durn and the small firebrand left, leaving Kutler and the rest to guard them. Kutler promptly strolled over, smiling happily.

“I want to thank you.”

“For what?” Sally asked.

“Big Mike is so glad to finally be rid of your lover,” Kutler said, nodding at Fargo, “that he is passing out free bottles tonight. It will be the best blood and guts yet.”

“The what?”

“Blood and guts. It is what we call the feeding frenzy. That damned wolverine about goes berserk.”

Sally averted her face. “Please, Mr. Kutler. I would rather not hear the gory details.”

“Hell, that’s nothing,” Kutler said. “I have seen that critter shred flesh to ribbons and tear a throat open clear to the jugular. It about turned my stomach watching him the first two or three times, but after that I got into the spirit of things.”

“You are despicable, and Mike Durn is worse,” Sally said flatly. “How you can live with yourself, I can’t imagine.”

“At least we will be breathing after tonight, which is more than I can say about you and your lover.”

“That makes twice you have called him that,” Sally said. “It is not entirely accurate.”

“He poked you, didn’t he?” Kutler leered.

Fargo was interested in an hombre over by the pit. Unless he was mistaken, that was his Colt in the man’s holster.

“Must you be so crude?” Sally was asking. “Haven’t I always treated you with courtesy?”

Kutler squatted a few yards away and placed his hand on his bowie. “I wouldn’t call looking down your nose a courtesy. The airs you put on have not won you many friends.”

“I have friends,” Sally said. “In Cheyenne. In Denver. In a lot of places. Some of them will wonder when they don’t hear from me. They will report me missing, and a marshal will pay Polson a visit.”

“That is fine by us. Big Mike already has the story we will tell worked out.” Kutler chuckled. “You sold your store and moved to California. All of us even helped load your wagon.”

“That is an outright lie. No one will believe it.”

“Sure they will,” Kutler said. “Especially since there are people, myself being one of them who will swear on a stack of Bibles that you were always talking about moving to California one day.”

Uttering a low moan, Sally bowed her head.

Kutler grinned at Fargo. “Pitiful, isn’t she? You would think that at her age she would know it is dog eat dog.”

“She is learning.”

“I am right here!” Sally said. “I resent your talking about me as if I am some sort of simpleton.”

“You are,” Kutler said. “Or you would not have bucked Big Mike Durn. As stupid goes, that is at the top of the tree.”

A sudden burst of noise from the tunnel caused Sally to cringe and Kutler to cackle with glee.

“Hear that, missy? They are on their way. If you and your lover have any last prayers you want to say, now is the time to say them.”