Fargo frowned. Once again arguing was pointless. Lester Winston had never been west of the Mississippi River, yet he thought he knew the Nez Perce better than someone who had lived on the frontier for years.
“Don’t look so glum. Be happy for us. We’re happy. Our dream is about to come true.”
“You’re a fool.”
Lester lost some of his good mood. “I’ll forgive you the slur. But don’t make a habit of it. I have the best interests of my people at heart, and we will not be denied.”
“Even if it gets you all killed?”
“Enough. We have listened to you and you have our answer. Be considerate enough to drop the subject.”
Fargo got in one last lick. “I’ll be considerate enough to bury you, too.”
11
Days of slow travel. Nights of hot passion.
That was how Skye Fargo spent the next three days. The farmers treated him as a friend. If anyone regarded his nightly “walks” with Rachel as improper, they were polite enough not to say anything. It didn’t occur to Fargo why until the third evening. He had just eaten his supper and was downing his third cup of coffee when Billy grinned at him and made a remark that explained everything.
“My sis sure will be busy at the stove, the way you stuff food down.”
“The stove?” Fargo repeated.
Billy nodded. “When you’re hitched. I heard Ma say as how she hopes you’ll ask Rachel soon.”
Fargo nearly choked on the coffee.
“Pa says you’ll make a fine son-in-law. He likes that you’re not green behind the ears. His own words.” Billy grinned. “Ma says she figures she’ll be a grandma before she can blink.”
“Hell.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you have that funny look? Are you sick or something?”
“My coffee went down the wrong pipe.”
“I’ve done that before. With milk. Once it came back out my nose. Don’t you hate it when that happens?”
Fargo should have seen it sooner. The settlers were being so nice because they expected him to do the right thing. They expected him to wed Rachel. He wondered what Rachel thought. He’d made it plain to her that he wasn’t ready to be tied down. She’d said she understood. But women could say one thing and feel another. Could well be, she secretly hoped he would change his mind and pop the question. “Damn.”
“What was that?” Billy asked.
“Yes, I hate it when that happens.”
Victor Gore was friendly to him, too. Gore acted genuinely grateful to Fargo for helping with the Nez Perce. He came over as Billy was skipping off.
“Tomorrow is the big day. We’ll reach the valley at last. I can’t wait, Mr. Fargo. I will finally be able to get on about my own business.”
“What would that be?”
“Why, I’ve already told you. Visiting my old trapping haunts.”
“You’re not sticking around to help the farmers settle in?”
“I doubt they need my aid. Winston and his people are capable folk. That is the way with farmers. They rely on the strength in their arms and the guidance of the Lord. But not me. I learned long ago that life is a roll of the dice. I’m rolling the die now by coming back here.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, only that all of us have taken our lives in our hands, what with the Nez Perce and all.”
“What about Rinson and his bunch? Will they go off with you or stay with the settlers?”
“Why would they stay? They were hired to see Lester’s bunch safely to the valley. That’s all. Once they’ve been paid the rest of their fee, I imagine they’ll be on their way.”
Fargo scowled. It would leave the settlers at the mercy of the Nez Perce, who were not in a merciful mood of late.
“You seem mad. But I assure you it was all worked out before we left Fort Bridger. Rinson made the conditions clear to Winston and his people. I was there. I heard every word.”
“You know what will happen, don’t you, when the Nez Perce find whites have moved in?”
Victor grimly nodded. “I warned Lester. You warned Lester. But he refuses to listen. I was puzzled at first. I thought he must be the most stubborn man on the planet.”
It had been Fargo’s experience that stubborn and stupid often went hand in hand.
“Whether it’s that, or his faith that the Almighty will protect them, or some other reason, I’ve never met anyone so insistent on not taking advice when it’s offered.”
“Thinking like that can get them wiped out.”
“You know that and I know that. But what can we say to someone who goes through life with blinders on?” Victor shook his head. “Some people believe only what they want to believe. You can talk to them until you are blue in the face and everything you say will go in one ear and bounce out again.”
Fargo sighed.
“I never meant for the farmers to come here. A simple remark on my part about how fine the valley was, and Lester seized on it like a dog on a bone. He regards it as some sort of new Eden.”
Fargo gazed across the circle at where the fiddler was warming up for the nightly festivities. “Some people never learn.”
“No, they don’t,” Gore agreed. “And there is nothing the rest of us can do. My own conscience is clear.”
As for Rinson and company, they pretty much left Fargo alone those three days. No more spying on him during the day and keeping watch on him at night. They seemed to have accepted the fact that the settlers didn’t mind having him along. Even Slag and Perkins ignored him.
There was no trace of the Nez Perce, and for that Fargo was thankful.
At last the big morning arrived.
The covered wagons were winding along the Payette River. The farmers were excited that their long trek was almost at an end. Victor Gore was excited that soon he would be back in his old haunts. Even the so-called protectors showed signs of being excited, although what they had to be excited about, Fargo couldn’t guess. Unless it was that soon they would get the rest of the money they were due and could return to Fort Bridger.
Fargo was riding alongside the Winston’s wagon when Victor Gore came galloping back to excitedly report that he had spotted the mouth of the valley ahead. Word spread. The farmers lashed their teams to go faster, and before long a broad valley spread out before their eager eyes. Oval shaped, it was everything Gore said it would be: lush with grass, with timbered slopes on three sides, plenty of wood for cabins and barns, and plenty of game for the pot. Fargo had to admit it was ideal.
The farmers brought their wagons to a stop in the middle of the valley and hopped down to gaze in heart-felt joy at their new home. Lester Winston scooped up a handful of dirt. He smelled it, and ran it through his fingers, and announced that it was some of the richest soil he’d ever seen.
Fargo didn’t share in the general elation. The valley was too open. Should the Nez Perce attack in force, the farmers wouldn’t stand a prayer. The wooded slopes would provide ideal cover for a war party to sneak in close and spy on the whites, waiting for the right moment to attack. But he didn’t voice his worries to Lester Winston. He would be wasting his breath.
Rachel came over and gleefully clasped his hands. “Isn’t it glorious?” she asked, her eyes alight with delight.
“If you’ve seen one valley, you’ve pretty much seen them all.”
“You don’t understand. This is the start of a dream for us. We have a lot at stake here, more than you can imagine. If all goes as my pa has planned, before too long we’ll have everything we’ve ever wanted. A new home. A new farm. We’ll be much better off than we were in Ohio.”
“You could also be dead.”
Rachel drew back, her eyebrow arching. “What has gotten into you? Why can’t you share in our joy?”