“Look,” Fargo said. “I’ll check out everything you say. Everything. I promise. And if I think this has been planted here that’s what I’ll tell Cain. And if I think it’s been planted and I suspect it’s Cain, I’ll go after him.”
“What can you do up against Cain? He runs this town.”
“But he doesn’t run me.”
Lenihan choked back a sob. “You don’t know my pa. He’s the kindest man I’ve ever known. And the people in town know that too. But they’ve let all this gossip make them crazy. They’re just layin’ for him. And it scares me.” He paused, stared at the bank bag. “Is there any way—”
“You know I can’t do that. I have to take this in and talk to your father. And most likely take him to jail.”
“He needs to be safe, Fargo. You’ve got to promise me that. That he’ll be safe.”
“I’ll make sure of that.”
The collie responded to Lenihan’s sadness by rubbing against his leg and making a sort of whimpering sound. She was a good dog in all respects.
“I need to get back now.”
The conversation finished, Fargo turned and cut through a small collection of chickens.
He’d gone only a few steps when Lenihan called, “Stop right there, Fargo. I’ve got a gun on you. I want you to drop that bag and then get on your horse and ride out.”
“You going to shoot me?”
“If I have to.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to.”
“I’m not fooling.”
“Neither am I.”
Fargo began slowly moving to his big Ovaro.
“Fargo. Stop.”
But Fargo kept moving. By now he was sure the kid wouldn’t shoot. He turned when he reached the stallion. Lenihan looked pathetic. He had a useless gun in his hand and what appeared to be tears in his eyes.
Lenihan didn’t say anything and neither did Fargo. There was nothing to say.
11
The bank bag, still showing traces of the dirt in which it had been buried, lay on the desk of Sheriff Tom Cain. He raised his pleased gaze to meet Fargo’s eyes.
“In Lenihan’s barn, you say?” Cain said.
“You heard me. No need to gloat.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“It strikes me as strange that he’d bury it in such an obvious way,” Fargo said.
Standing next to him, Pete Rule said, “I agree. Ned’s a smart man.”
“He’s also a good friend of yours, Pete. You and Fargo here just don’t want to admit he’s guilty.”
Cain had been enjoying one of his smelliest cigars. Late afternoon sunlight was turned blue by the smoke. There was also the faint aroma of whiskey on the air. Cain had been known to take a drink during duty hours.
Cain took his feet down from his desk finally and sat up straight. “Since I make the decisions in this town—I’m the duly appointed law here as some people seem to be forgetting these days—I’m going to go arrest him myself.”
“I found the bag. Let me go make the arrest.”
“I don’t remember appointing you as a deputy.”
“Then give me a badge.”
“And why should I do that, Skye?”
“Because you’ll take too much pleasure in arresting him for one thing. And for another, you won’t give him a chance to explain himself.”
“In other words, you’ll let him come up with some story about the bank bag being planted there. And how about the story old Rex told you? That he saw Lenihan talking to the three boys down by the creek? You don’t believe that, either?”
“I believe it but I’d like to hear Lenihan’s side of it.”
“You should give him a chance to talk anyway,” Rule said.
“Why don’t you go arrest him, Pete?” Amusement played in Cain’s voice.
“Well, I—”
Cain stood up. “Well, look at this. Fargo finds the bank bag and hears a man swear that he saw Lenihan talking to the boys and he still doesn’t think Lenihan’s the one we’re looking for. And poor Pete here’s so much a friend of Lenihan’s that he won’t do his sworn duty and go arrest him.”
“I’m still thinking you might be behind all this, Tom,” Fargo said. “You set up the robbery and you killed those boys.”
“Now, Fargo—” Rule started to say.
“No, no, Pete. Let him talk. That’s been on his mind the whole time. Fargo thinks I’m the one he’s looking for.”
“It’s a possibility,” Fargo said. “Same as Lenihan’s a possibility.”
“So I’m as much of a suspect as Lenihan? Did you find a bank bag in my house, did you?”
“No. But you could’ve planted that bag in Lenihan’s barn.”
“Trusting soul, aren’t you?”
“I want the badge, Tom. Now.”
“I have to admit, Skye, it would give me a whole lot of pleasure to arrest Lenihan and then march him down the street.”
“I’ll be bringing him in the back way.”
One of Cain’s theater smiles. “Why, you’re no fun at all, Skye.”
Then he dug up a badge for the Trailsman.
The Winchester barrel gleamed in the sunlight of the dying day. Out on the river a pair of fishermen in a rowboat waved to Sam and Kenny Raines. Kenny waved but Sam was too busy lining up his next shot. Five bottles sat on top of two boxes. He had fired three times and hit one bottle. Kenny had replaced it with a new one.
“I would’ve busted all five of them by now.” The disgust in Kenny’s voice was clear. “And if I had my gun hand back, Fargo’d be dead by now too.”
“I’m doing what I can.”
“You’re one of those shots got to be right on top of a man before you can kill him. We ain’t gonna have that chance with Fargo. You’ll have to shoot him from a distance.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Now get back to practicing.”
“I get sick of you pushing me around sometimes.”
“Well, I get sick of you lettin’ me down all the time. You could’ve killed him the other night at the Gold Mine and you didn’t. I would’ve killed him for you.”
Sam made a face and started sighting along the barrel again. He squinted, steadied himself, fired. Third bottle from the left exploded jagged pieces of glass into the winterlike chill coming off of the river.
He didn’t wait for Kenny’s response. He took another bottle down right after. This one exploded even more dramatically, in a dozen smaller pieces.
“How’s that?” Sam snapped. “Maybe you’ll shut your yap for a while.”
“Try another one.”
And by God if Sam didn’t get that one, too.
“Maybe getting you mad is what you needed.”
“Someday you might make me so mad I do somethin’ about it.”
“That’ll be the day. Now you got two more to go.”
“I was bein’ serious, Kenny. Someday—”
“Yeah. There’s always someday, ain’t there, Sam? Now shoot.”
Sam got one, missed another.
“Four out of five.”
“I would’ve made it five out of five.” He went right on. “We do it tonight. He stays at the Royale, he eats at the Trail’s End and he spends time at the sheriff’s office. All we need to do is trail him from one place to another. The easiest place will be the café because there’s an alley across from it. He won’t see us and by the time he’s dead we’ll be in the woods out here by the river.”
“Maybe it won’t be that easy.”
“It’ll be that easy if you can shoot straight.”
“Somebody might see us.”
“Not if we’re fast.”
“What if I miss?”
“If you miss,” Kenny laughed, “I’ll kill you.”
Sam snickered. “You mean with your gun hand?”
“You think that’s funny?”