Fargo noticed that the marshal also had men moving along the tracks to the area where the baggage and animal cars would stop, moving casually as if nothing was wrong. Fargo was impressed. In a very short time he had talked to his deputies and had them trained for the situation. The marshal was even more competent than Fargo had thought.
Fargo stared through the tiny door window at the windows of the first passenger car as it eased slowly past him.
No Anne. More than likely she would be in one of the cars surrounded by five or six men.
The five passenger cars slowly ground to a very noisy halt in front of Fargo, the middle one not more than twenty paces from him through the growing crowd.
So far, he hadn’t seen Anne in any of the first three cars.
He stepped from the door as the people inside the cars stood and started to get off. He kept his hat pulled down and his shoulders hunched to avoid being recognized.
It was from the fourth car that a man carrying a leather rifle pouch got off and looked around, scanning the crowd before stepping to the platform.
Mick Rule.
Fargo knew that face very well. He had hoped to never have a run-in with the man. He was fast and deadly with a gun, almost as deadly as Fargo was.
Rule was also wanted in three states. He had robbed banks, killed guards and lawmen, and was known to work with a dozen other men. It was no wonder Henry Brant had been waiting. It was no wonder Sarah Brant hadn’t left as Fargo had told her to do. With Rule and his men headed their way, they could control not only Sharon’s Dream, but more than likely a lot of Placerville.
Two more men got off behind Rule, followed by Anne. Fargo’s jaw clenched as he saw how she was being shoved around.
The marshal and his men had seen Rule as well, but were still holding their positions, hoping to let some of the crowd thin.
Fargo didn’t much care about the crowd.
But he did care about getting Anne out of the way of those men unharmed, and that meant waiting for the right time to attack.
Eight men total climbed off the train and moved out of the way, shoving Anne along with them.
She looked angry. Damned angry. He had seen that look on her face only once before, the day she found out two of her most trusted men were working to take over her ranch.
The outlaws stood for a moment in a small circle on the platform, talking, waiting for something as the crowd started to climb onto the train. It would be only a moment before the marshal and his men would stand out like sore thumbs to the outlaws.
He had only six shots in his Colt. If he made the play, he was going to have to hope the marshal and his men took care of at least two of the outlaws. Otherwise he was going to end up very dead right here on this train platform.
Fargo took a deep breath and stepped toward the men, his Colt heavy in his hand at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the marshal nod and step toward the group as well.
At least two guns against eight.
The odds were getting slightly better.
This was going to have to be quick and deadly. There was no other way.
Ten paces away from the group of eight men, with no stray passenger between him and the man who held Anne by the arm, Fargo said loudly, “Excuse me. I think you’re holding a friend of mine.”
Mick Rule smirked at Fargo. His grasp on Anne’s arm tightened.
“I don’t think you want to draw down on me, Fargo. You’ve got a big reputation but I’ve got the speed.”
Rule leaned away from Anne so that he could get at his gun. He was fast all right. But not fast enough for Fargo. Rule got one shot off but by that time Fargo had put a bullet in the heavy man’s heart.
Rule went down hard, his head smashing into the platform.
Anne spun away and fell to the deck, covering her head as other passengers around them screamed and also dove for cover.
At the same time, Marshal Davis cut two more of the outlaws down and the deputies cleared off the rest of them.
The sound of the shots and the cries of the passengers were still echoing as Marshal Davis turned to see five more gunnies jumping from the rail car that held the horses.
This battle was even bloodier than the first one but lasted for less than twenty seconds. It was fought in front of the baggage and cattle cars. Davis lost two deputies but only one gunny survived.
Fargo glanced around as the smoke from the guns cleared. People were flat on the platform or crouched behind luggage. From what he could see, none of the bystanders had been wounded. That was the first good thing that had happened in two days.
He leathered his Colt and reached down and offered a hand to Anne, who was still on the platform, staying low until she was sure the gunfire had ended.
“It’s over,” Fargo said.
Behind him, the marshal and his deputies surrounded the pile of dead outlaws. The deputies checked the shot men while the marshal started to work on calming the crowd.
“It’s over, everyone,” he shouted up and down the platform. “It’s safe to board the train and go about your business. Sorry for the problem this morning.”
Anne looked up at Fargo, her eyes blazing in anger. “How did you know?”
“I tend to keep track of the people I care about,” he said.
She slowly took his offered hand and let him help her gently to her feet.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head, brushing off her skirt, trying to straighten herself a little as she gathered her wits about her.
“Did you get my shirt?”
She still looked somewhat dazed from all the gun-play. But she smiled and said, “I didn’t have time to get you a shirt, Skye. But I did bring you a nice little surprise I think you’ll like.” She slid her hand in his. “And I think you’ll like it a lot more than a shirt.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I think I will too.”
12
Fargo was in no hurry to get back to Sharon’s Dream.
He helped Anne give a statement to the marshal, then escorted her to the Sacramento Inn, a large and plush hotel near the marshal’s office. They went to the dining room for a leisurely and quiet lunch. They had some talking to do before they headed back to Placerville.
As they waited for their order to come, Fargo said, “You look mad.”
“I am mad,” she said, her green eyes flashing. “I agreed to go to San Francisco to avoid this very thing, and it followed me there, where I had no one to help me, no one who knew me, no way to fight and defend myself.”
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Not your fault. Look, I’ve been defending myself for years now. I should have just stayed in my hotel and fought if I had to.”
He nodded. “I agree.”
She looked at him, puzzled, not expecting that answer from him.
“You can take care of yourself. I like that in a woman.”
She squeezed his hand and smiled, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. “Thank you.”
She took a deep breath, straightened up, and then said, “Besides a few bruises on my arms, I wasn’t harmed. They caught me as I came out of my room, put a gun on me, and told me to pack and check out. I did what they said, figuring I’d wait for my chance to break away. That, thanks to you, never came.”
“Did you know any of them?” Fargo asked.
She shook her head, so he told her. “The leader was Mick Rule.”
Her face went pale. “The bank robber and killer?”
“The same one. Henry Brant hired him and his men to help them take over Sharon’s Dream.”
She shuddered slightly. “Okay, I can take care of myself, but Mick Rule is out of my league. Thank you for rescuing me. You still didn’t tell me how you knew I was in trouble.”