“He was a hunter like you.”
“I just told you I didn’t know him. Are you calling me a liar?”
Fargo figured that now was as good a time as any to test his newest hunch. Casually placing his hand on his Colt, he said simply, “Yes.”
“Here now,” Tom said.
Cletus Brun surprised Fargo. He didn’t get mad or angry. All he said was, “What makes you think so?”
“He made mention of a partner he was working with,” Fargo revealed. “I think that partner was you.”
“Because I’m a local like he was? I suppose I might think the same if I was in your boots. But you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. I never partner up with anyone.”
“So you claim.”
Cletus rubbed his chin and said very deliberately, “You pile on the insults. Seems to me you’re askin’ for a poundin’ and I’m just the coon to oblige. Before this weekend is out I’m goin’ to bust your bones.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
“Here now,” Tom said again. “I won’t have talk like this, you hear me? Especially from you, Mr. Brun. I’m the one who hired you. To hunt for me, need I remind you? Not to indulge your violent tendencies.”
“My what?” the block of muscle said, and laughed. “You and your fancy words. A man sticks up for himself and he’s bein’ violent? It’s a good thing you’re payin’ me good money or I’d as soon pound you as him.”
“Enough of this,” Tom said. “Come with me.” He reined around and his giant doppelganger went with him.
After that Fargo was left alone, which suited him as he had a lot to work out in his head. The way he saw it, he had at least three killers to contend with: the brown-eyed brother and sister, and whomever Anders had been working with. There was also the matter of who hired them. Since it was unlikely the same person hired both the brother and sister and the locals, that meant two of the four Clyborns were out to gain the inheritance at any cost. But which two? Charlotte was young and innocent. Samantha seemed genuinely to care for her siblings. Roland didn’t seem the type. That left Tom, and Fargo wouldn’t put anything past him.
The upshot, Fargo reflected, was that he better be more on his guard than ever.
Presently they came out of the trees into a clearing several acres in extent. Not a natural clearing, a man-made one where every oak and maple and pine had been felled to use as lumber in the construction of the Clyborn hunting lodge.
Fargo expected it to be big since the Clyborns never did anything on a small scale and he wasn’t disappointed. The lodge covered two of the three acres. The logs had been precisely laid, the gaps chinked with Missouri clay. It looked sturdy enough to survive the apocalypse. At no doubt considerable expense, glass panes had been brought in and a custom door mounted. As at the mansion, there were a number of outbuildings, including a stable.
Samantha took charge, giving orders like a military commander. A small army of servants leaped to obey.
Not an hour after arriving, Fargo found himself in a spacious dining room at a long mahogany table, sipping piping hot coffee. Samantha had gone off to talk to the cook about supper. Tom had gone upstairs to unpack, taking Cletus Brun along. So had Charles with his friend from the club. Roland was outdoors. That left Charlotte and her cousin, Amanda, and Theodore Pickleman. The lawyer filled a china cup and sat next to the women.
“Well, my dears. At six this evening I will read the part of the will that explains the hunt, and who knows? It could be you, Charlotte, who inherits everything.”
“I doubt that very much,” Charlotte said. “I’m no hunter.”
“If you are the one, I hope you will continue to retain me as the family attorney. I have always been faithful and done as was asked of me to the best of my ability.”
“My father used to say you were a great help to him.”
“A great man, your father.” Pickleman raised his coffee cup in salute. “No one misses him more than I do.”
Fargo thought the lawyer was laying it on a little thick but since the lawyer had brought it up, he asked, “What do you stand to gain out of all this?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Are you in the will, too?”
“Would that I were,” Pickleman said, and sighed. “Tom Senior never mixed business with his personal life. I knew him a good many years and he sometimes invited me to meals and had me over on holidays but I knew there was a line I didn’t dare cross.”
“He paid you well,” Charlotte said.
“Yes, he did,” Pickleman replied. “I can’t complain in that respect.”
Amanda excused herself to go to her room, saying she needed to rest after their long ride. She was a quiet girl, rather plain, and had a nice smile.
Shortly after, Pickleman drifted out, too.
No sooner did the lawyer leave than Charlotte stood and came down the table to a chair next to Fargo’s.
“Were you serious, what you said?”
“About?” Fargo prompted.
“About wanting me.”
About to drain his cup, Fargo peered at her over the rim. The Clyborns were a constant source of surprise. “I’ve never met a fine-looking woman I didn’t want,” he confessed. “Why?”
Charlotte sat very straight and stiff in her chair and said, “Because if you still do, I’d like very much for you to take me upstairs and ravish me.”
9
The bedrooms were as lavish as everything else. Curtains on the windows, carpet on the floor, a four-poster bed with a canopy and a writing table and a chest of drawers.
Charlotte Clyborn had been wringing her hands on the climb up the stairs and now she walked to the window and parted the curtains and looked out. “It won’t be supper for a couple of hours yet.”
Fargo closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms across his chest. “Why did you really want to get me up here?”
Charlotte glanced over her slender shoulder and blinked those sweetly innocent eyes of hers. “Whatever do you mean?”
“It wasn’t to ravish you,” Fargo quoted her. Downstairs he had read fear in her face, and something else. She was as skittish as a colt in a lightning storm and he would like to learn why.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Quit playing games.”
Charlotte tittered. “You think you know how I am but you don’t. No one does except my cousin, Amanda. She and I have been close since the time I got to stay over at her house and we snuck her brother into our room.” Charlotte tittered again. “My own brothers and sisters certainly don’t know me. They think of me as this little darling who’s never done any wrong.”
Fargo didn’t say anything. An uneasy feeling had come over him. The Clyborns were about to surprise him once again.
“Emmett was the real innocent. Our family was everything to him. Despite all that’s happened he cared for each and every one of us. Even Tom. But now Emmett is dead and the innocence has died with him.”
“You don’t sound broken up about it.”
Charlotte turned. A change had come over her. The sweet smile was gone, replaced by a cold smirk. “Why should I be? All Emmett was to me was another obstacle. Just as my sister is an obstacle.”
“I don’t savvy.”
“Sure you do. You’re not dumb. You just don’t want to. You’re like the rest. You think of me as pure and nice when I’m anything but.”
Fargo had rarely misjudged anyone as badly as he had this snip of a well-endowed girl. “All this is leading up to something.”
Charlotte came across the room and stood in front of him. “I’m being honest with you because I want you on my side and no one else’s.”
“Your sister hired me,” Fargo reminded her.