High Country Horror

16

“No,” Fargo said. “You’re not.” There were limits to how much he would abide and Tibbit had crossed the line.

“How is that again?”

“I don’t reckon I’ll let you arrest me.” Fargo crossed the yard toward the back door.

Tibbit overtook him, taking long strides to match his. “Just you hold on a minute. You can’t tell a law officer he can’t arrest you.”

“I just did.” Opening the back door, Fargo entered the kitchen and went to the stove. The coffeepot was good and hot.

“But see here. I’ve been duly appointed to uphold the law.” Tibbit tapped his badge to stress the point.

Fargo filled a cup and set the pot back on the stove. He leaned against the table and sipped and then looked at Tibbit, who was impatiently tapping his foot. “You’re more worthless than teats on a boar.”

“That is quite enough.” Tibbit dipped his hand toward the six-gun on his hip.

His arm a blur, Fargo drew the Colt. He had it out and level before Tibbit could touch his. Tibbit blanched and went rigid. With a flourish, Fargo twirled the Colt into his holster. “Don’t try that again.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Pour yourself a cup and we’ll talk.”

“I can’t,” Tibbit said. “I have a weak constitution. It would keep me up all night and I’d be worthless tomorrow.” He caught himself. “Worthless. That was your word, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve already been in your jail and I’m not going there again,” Fargo set him straight. “I was defending myself. Ask Helsa Chatterly. Those three busted in here and said they were going to hang me. What else was I to do? Yell for help and hope you came?”

“I just don’t want more killing,” Tibbit said sullenly.

“Tell that to the son of a bitch who has been taking your women, chopping them into pieces, and throwing the pieces in a pit.”

“I forgot about him in all the excite—” Tibbit stopped. “Wait. What was that about a pit?”

Fargo told him all that had happened out at the black mesa, concluding with, “I was fixing to come to you in the morning and suggest you gather up a posse. If we head out early enough we can surround the mesa and sweep it from end to end before dark. We’re bound to find him.”

“I was under the impression you wanted him for yourself.”

“Ever been pheasant hunting?”

Tibbit shook his head. “Can’t say as I have, no. I’ve never hunted much. To be honest, I can’t stand the blood and the killing. It makes me want to cry.”

“Corsets,” Fargo said under his breath.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. What they do is get a bunch of men and walk the fields and flush the birds into taking wing and the hunter who is nearest shoots it.”

Tibbit was quiet a bit. “I see. You’re hoping we’ll flush him and you can shoot him.”

Fargo shrugged. “It could be me. It could be any of you.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Tibbit drew himself up to his full height. “I am obligated to go by the letter of the law and the law says I must try to take him alive to stand trial for his crimes.”

“Come down out of the clouds, Marion,” Fargo said. It was the first time he had used the lawman’s first name.

“Excuse me?”

“The man on that mesa won’t let you take him alive. He’ll fight, he’ll fight hard, and it could be some of your posse won’t come back.”

“If there are enough of us he’ll realize it’s pointless and might surrender.” Tibbit brightened at the notion. “Why, I’ll round up every able-bodied man in town and send for the closest farmers. I can raise forty men or better.”

“You do what you want.”

Tibbit regarded him thoughtfully. “You don’t like me very much, do you, Mr. Fargo?”

“I like you fine. It’s your stupid I don’t care for.”

“My what?”

“When you do what you shouldn’t.”

“But who is to say I’m wrong and you’re right?”

“That’s what stupid people always say.”

A flush spread from Tibbit’s neck to his hairline. “I don’t like being insulted, sir. I don’t like it at all.” He tromped to the hall, and paused. “I’ll have a posse ready to ride out at dawn. One way or the other, this whole mess will end.”

“We hope,” Fargo said.

“It’s your plan yet you sound pessimistic. He’s one man. We’ll have forty or more. He’s as good as caught.”

“There you go again.” Fargo swallowed more coffee. “This man is smart. He’s picked a good hiding place. And he’s a good shot.”

“Forty to one,” Tibbit emphasized.

“That won’t make a difference to him. He’ll be like a cornered wolf up there. A cornered rabid wolf. And you can never tell what a rabid animal will do.”

“He’ll surrender or he will die. It’s that simple.” Tibbit touched his hat brim and turned to go.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Fargo asked.

“Not that I can think of.”

Fargo pointed at the two bodies.

“Oh. Mercy me. Yes, I suppose it wouldn’t do to leave them there. Helsa wouldn’t like that at all.”

It took half an hour for the lawman to organize a handful of men to carry the bodies out and wipe up the blood.

Fargo stayed in the kitchen drinking coffee. Helsa Chatterly came in, her arms wrapped around her bosom, and moved tiredly to the pitcher and poured a glass of water.

“I’m glad that’s over.”

“It’s not,” Fargo said.

“You mean Harvey Stansfield? Surely he won’t try again.”

“He’ll want me dead more than ever,” Fargo predicted.

“I hope you’re wrong.” Helsa drank and set the glass down and bowed her head. “I’m going to turn in. How about you?”

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry you had to shoot them.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t mean that. You took two lives. Surely that will haunt you the rest of your days.”

Fargo had lost count of the number of lives he’d taken; he never gave another thought to any of them. Most were like the pair tonight, out to do him violence or to hurt someone else, and had to be stopped. In his book they deserved what they got, and good riddance. He didn’t tell her that. He said, “Get a good night’s rest and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Good night, handsome.” Helsa padded off.

Fargo finished his coffee. He bolted the front and back doors. He went from window to window, checking that they were latched. He blew out the lamp in the parlor and climbed the stairs to his room. Instead of stripping and climbing into bed, he took a pillow and placed it vertically under the blankets to give the illusion of someone sleeping. Then he blew out the bedroom lamp, stretched out on the floor with his back to a wall, and fell asleep with his arm for a pillow and his Colt in his hand.

A faint pink hue marked the eastern sky when Fargo awoke. Sitting up, he stretched and slid the Colt into his holster and put his hat on. He quietly went downstairs and out into the early-morning chill of the new day. Well before the sun was up he was in the saddle in front of the marshal’s office. He was the first one there.

A golden crown glowed bright when Tibbit showed. He had bags under his eyes and his clothes were a mess. He nodded at Fargo and went into his office. Fargo followed and claimed a chair while the lawman put a fresh pot of coffee on the stove.

“I got the word out,” Tibbit said. “I should have over forty men here by daybreak.”

“It already is daybreak,” Fargo pointed out. “And no one else is here.”

“Give them time.”

The sun was all the way up when Felicity’s father and several of his friends arrived. Then it was Myrtle’s father, Joseph, and some of his friends. In all, over two dozen gathered and talked in hushed tones until Marshal Tibbit emerged.

“Men, I want to thank you for coming. I’m expecting more so we’ll wait for them to get here.”

Fargo leaned against the jamb. “We should leave now.”

“What’s your rush?” Tibbit asked.

“It’s a big mesa. We’ll need most of the day to search.”

“Forty can search faster than twenty,” Tibbit said. “I say we give them another hour.”

Reluctantly, Fargo gave in. They needed him to guide them and he needed them to scour every square yard of the mesa. It was eight before most of those Tibbit was counting on got there, and eight thirty before they were finally shed of Haven.

Fargo rode at the head with Tibbit and Tom Wilson, the townsman who had tried to stop the lynching that night on the trail. In a short while Sam Worthington joined them, the big farmer saying, “I thought you should know, Marshal. Some of the men are saying as how we should shoot the Ghoul on sight.”

“I made it clear he is to be taken into custody,” Tibbit said, with a pointed glance at Fargo.

“Myrtle’s pa doesn’t agree and he’s worked up the others,” the farmer revealed. “I can’t hardly blame them. If my Melissa was to vanish, I’d feel the same way.”

“Doesn’t anyone know the difference between right and wrong anymore?” Tibbit asked. “Damn it, Sam. Why am I wearing this badge if no one ever listens to me?”

The farmer didn’t reply.

“Go back with the others. Spread the word that I won’t put up with any shenanigans. Anyone bucks me on this will be thrown in jail.”

“I’ll do as you want but it won’t make any difference.”

“Why not?”

“I expect you already know.”

“Say it anyway. I want to hear.”

Worthington met Fargo’s eye, and frowned. “No one takes you serious, Marion. You threaten and you bluster but you never really do anything unless you’re forced to.”

“That’s harsh.”

“You asked,” Worthington said. “And while I’m at it, I might as well let you know that there has been talk of going to the town council and demanding the council replace you.”

Tibbit couldn’t hide his surprise. “After all I’ve done for these people, they would turn on me?”

“That’s just it,” Worthington said. “What have you done except wear the badge? I’m not one of the ones who wants you to give it up, mind you, but they think you are worthless.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Tibbit said bitterly, with another pointed look at Fargo.

“Sorry to be the one to break the news.” Worthington reined around.

“A fine ‘how do you do?’” Tibbit said in disgust. He turned to Wilson. “How about you, Tom? Are you with me or against me?”

“I’m for Haven.”

“That’s no answer.”

“Then let me spell it out for you,” Wilson said. “I’m for anything that makes the town a better place to live. Right now, a lawman worth his salt is what we need most.”

“Not you too?”

“You’re just not cut out for it, Marion. You’re good at corsets. You’re not so good at keeping the peace.”

“Other than the women disappearing, there hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle.”

“You didn’t stop Harvey Stansfield and his two friends from assaulting Mr. Fargo, here.”

“Several times,” Fargo said.

“I had them in jail.”

“And let them out,” Wilson said.

“Only because they promised me.”

“They what?”

“They promised they would behave and I believed them. You can’t fault someone for trusting their fellow man.”

Wilson lifted his reins. “I think I’ll go back and ride with Sam and the others.”

“Fine. Be that way.” Tibbit shifted in his saddle toward Fargo. “Do you believe this?”

“Yes.”

“Hell in a basket. Everyone is against me. But you wait. They’ll change their minds after we catch the Ghoul.” Tibbit took off his hat and swatted it against his leg and put it back on again. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make them take me seriously. I’ll show them a man can be a good corset salesman and a good lawman, both.”

“Just so you don’t get anyone killed,” Fargo said.