“You’re insane. Stark raving insane.”
James Chatterly sighed. “I didn’t expect you would understand. You have always lived your life by what others do and not by what you want to do.”
“Listen to yourself,” Helsa said. “Standing there so calmly and talking as if we were discussing the weather when we are talking about rape and murder.”
“Don’t forget the beating and the whipping,” James said with a smirk. “I am fond of that part.”
“God help you.”
“That’s another thing I’ve learned,” James said. “All those years I lived in fear of something that isn’t.” He laughed and looked at each of them and squared his shoulders. “I reckon that’s about all there is worth saying. Time to finish this and be on my way.”
“Surely you’re not going to harm me?” Helsa said.
“Surely I am.”
“But why? What did I ever do but love you and care for you and feed you and nurse you when you were sick?”
“That you did,” James acknowledged. “You were as good a wife as a man ever had. You just weren’t ever enough of the other.”
“What other? The sex thing? Did I ever refuse you? Did I ever once kick you out of my bed?”
Fargo deliberately stayed quiet in the hope they would forget he was there. It seemed to be working. James was focused on Helsa and only on Helsa. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, and tensed.
“No, you did not,” James was telling her. “You were more willing than most wives. I’ll give you that. And at one time I did love you.”
“And I loved you,” Helsa said softly.
“But that’s the past and this is now. You know what I must do, don’t you, now that I have confided in you?”
Fargo was ready to spring. He would dive into the hall past the doorway.
Chatterly would shoot but the wall would shield him from the slugs. Or so he hoped. Then a hard object was jammed low against his back and a voice whispered behind his head.
“Not one twitch or I blow you to hell.”
Neither James nor Helsa had noticed. They were looking at each other. James was smiling. Helsa appeared shocked.
“You wouldn’t,” she said. “Not to me. Not to your own wife.”
“Female is female,” James replied. “You’re no different from any other. I will at least make it quick, out of respect for what we once had.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it, my dear. Life is nothing if not unpredictable. Look at me. Would you ever have imagined I would be as I am?”
The man behind Fargo stepped past Fargo into the parlor with his rifle trained on James Chatterly. “That’s enough gab out of you two. Drop that Spencer, mister, or die where you stand.”
“Harvey Stansfield!” Helsa blurted.
James possessed superb self-control. He stood stock-still and regarded the intruder with puzzlement. “Stansfield? I remember that name.”
“Who the hell are you?” Harve responded. “And drop that damn rifle now or I’ll shoot.”
Instead of letting go, James tucked at the knees and set the Spencer on the floor. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Mister, I never set eyes on—” Harve stopped. “Wait a second. But you can’t be him. He’s dead.”
“I feel very alive at the moment,” James said. “Where is the rest of the posse? Have they surrounded the house?”
“Posse?” Harve responded. “What the hell are you talking about? They’ve got a posse out after me?”
It was Helsa who answered. “No. Marshal Tibbit has one out after him.” She pointed at James.
“What on earth for?”
“He’s the Ghoul.”
“He’s the what?”
“You heard me. You must hold him here until the marshal arrives.”
Harvey stared at James Chatterly, and laughed. “Lady, what do you take me for? A simpleton? It was the Ghoul who everyone thought killed your husband pretty near a year ago, wasn’t it? Now you’re saying he killed himself?” He laughed some more.
“You don’t understand,” Helsa said.
“Sure I do,” Harvey said. “You’re trying to trick me, to confuse me so I won’t up and shoot your lover, here.” He nodded at Fargo.
“Her what?” James said.
Helsa groaned.
“Her lover,” Harvey told James. “I saw them with my own eyes. They were going at it right on your kitchen table.”
James looked at her and Helsa looked away. “My, oh my. You’re not so innocent, after all.”
“My friends saw them too,” Harvey said. “But they’re dead now, thanks to this son of a bitch.” He pointed his rifle at Fargo. “I’ve come to settle accounts once and for all.”
“Then you truly aren’t here for me?” James asked.
“Mister, it didn’t work with her and it won’t work with you. Nothing either of you say or do is going to stop me from making maggot bait of this bastard.” Harvey gave Fargo a hard push into the parlor and Fargo stumbled several steps. “I have hardly slept or eaten for dreaming of this.”
James grinned at Helsa. “We all have our little secrets, don’t we, my sweet?”
“He was the first and only,” Helsa said. “It had been so long.”
“No need to explain. I hardly have the right to judge you, now do I?”
Harvey was growing mad. “What are you two talking about?” He shook his head. “Forget it. I don’t want to know. What I want is for both of you to shut the hell up while I work out what to do with you.”
“You’re not going to shoot us?” James asked.
“I have nothing against you or her. It’s him I’m after.” Again Harvey indicated Fargo.
James Chatterly laughed. “Life is too peculiar for words.”
“Please, Harvey,” Helsa said. “I’m being truthful. My husband is the Ghoul. He has killed four women and others. The marshal and most of the men went out after him and will be back any moment. Turn him over to them and the whole town will be grateful.”
“You don’t know when to shut up,” Harvey said.
“You’ll be a hero,” Helsa persisted. “Please. For all our sakes. Take him to the jail and wait for the marshal.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to make a fool of myself. Tibbit will arrest me on sight. Then you can brag to everyone how you pulled the wool over my eyes.”
“No, no, no,” Helsa said.
“Enough,” Harvey exploded. “Not another peep out of you. I’ve never hurt a woman but you’re testing my patience.”
James said to Fargo, “Isn’t this glorious?”
“Enough out of you, too,” Harvey said to him. He took a step and centered the muzzle on Fargo’s chest. “You can talk, though. You can beg me to spare you. Not that I will but I want to hear it.”
“Go to hell,” Fargo said.
James Chatterly laughed.
“Please, Mr. Stansfield,” Helsa pleaded. “You must believe me. Yes, I admit what you said about Mr. Fargo and me. But I’m not making it up about my husband. With God as my witness, he really is the Ghoul. I’m begging you. Please, please, please, turn him over to the marshal.”
Harvey Stansfield was slow to respond, and for a few moments Fargo thought she had convinced him. He should have known better.
“You know what? I’ve changed my mind. It wouldn’t be too smart of me to kill Fargo and leave witnesses.” Harvey chuckled. “I’m going to kill all three of you.” He sighted down the barrel at Fargo and then swung the barrel toward James and then at Helsa in the rocking chair. “The question is, which one of you lunkheads do I shoot first?” He centered the barrel on Fargo again. “Can you guess who it will be?”
20
James Chatterly put his hands on his hips and threw back his head and roared with mirth.