“I don’t know as I like your tone. The man being hung deserves it. He was caught red-handed.”
“Caught doing what?”
It wasn’t the bartender who answered. It was a tall, lanky man in a broad-brimmed black hat and a vest with a star on it.
“Rustling.”
Fargo turned. “Marshal Travers, I take it?”
The lawman nodded. He had a long, bony face and close-set eyes. “I found the cow myself in his barn.”
“One cow?”
“One or twenty, it’s all the same. Lucas stole it and he has to pay.” Travers leaned on an elbow. “You here for the necktie social or some other reason?”
Fargo treated himself to a swallow of Monongahela. “For this. Then I aim to be on my way.”
“Make sure you stay out of trouble. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”
Fargo held his temper in check and said, “You’re not very friendly.”
“We have a nice town here and we like to keep it that way,”
Marshal Travers said, and smiled. “So no, we’re not very friendly at all.”