Free Utah Deadly Double (9781101558867) by Jon Sharpe

clean us out. This canyon’s crawling with ’em.”
    â€œCould be,” Fargo agreed, though a gut-hunch made him wonder.
    â€œâ€™ Pears to me we best go turnabout on guard duty tonight,” Old Billy suggested. “A dog likes to return to its own vomit.”
    â€œI s’pose, but if that yellow cur heard your Greener—and he had to—he won’t likely sniff around here again.”
    Old Billy lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Fargo, when it comes to the mazy waltz, your powder load ain’t what it used to be. Used to was, when you slipped off into the brush with a comely lass, you kept her there awhile. Heaped your plate with seconds and thirds. S’matter, was this one poor fixin’s?”
    â€œOh, she was a reg’lar banquet,” Fargo said regretfully. “And I enjoyed the first course. But I had one of my God fears gnawing at my belly.”
    Old Billy, a great believer in signs, portents, and “tinglings,” leaned forward with sudden interest. “Ahh? What was it, chumley? Goosebumps on your neck?”
    â€œWell, first off, it was the woman Caroline. Now, she was right out of the top drawer. I’ve had pretty women make it easy before, but hell, she served it up on a platter.”
    Old Billy mulled that. Like Fargo, he avoided staring into the fire and ruining his night vision.
    â€œYou got a pint there. But a hussy is a hussy, and it’s likely true she finds this place mighty boresome of a night. Never mind how you’re dressed like a catamite, women always has been drawn to you.”
    Fargo swallowed the flattery without difficulty. “Yeah, she might be just what she seems—a young gal with the tormentin’ itch. But that oaf we saw when we rode in, and then this jackal watching you—I got a hunch there’s somebody in this canyon who’s keeping their eyes peeled just for us.”
    â€œHappens that’s so, then don’t it seem likely they’re in on these attacks that’s being put on you?”
    â€œThe hand that whirls the water in the pool,” Fargo replied, “stirs the quicksand.”
    â€œThen consarn it, Fargo, you’re a bigger fool than God made you if you stay here.”
    Fargo thumbed a reload into the cylinder of his Colt. “Simmer down, stout lad. Just because they might be watching for us doesn’t mean they know I’m here. Not yet, anyhow. We’ll light a shuck out of here, all right, but I need to try to talk to Louise Tipton first.”
    Old Billy shook his head. “Why? She already said it was you what killed her man.”
    â€œNah, that’s not what Caroline told us. She said the man identified himself as Skye Fargo, but that Mrs. Tipton wasn’t so sure. I need to find out why she wasn’t so sure. That might be the clue I need to put handles on this masquerading bastard.”
    Old Billy let out a long, fluming sigh. “Mayhap you’re right. We got damn little to go on—not even a hind tit. But you heard what else the girl said—how there’s this Doc Jacoby hovering over the woman.”
    â€œYeah,” Fargo said softly, “ain’t that convenient?”
    Billy missed his tone. “Hell, you know how doctors is all know-it-alls. Why would he let a drifter dressed like a whorehouse swamper talk to the Tipton woman?”
    â€œThat’s one nut I haven’t cracked yet,” Fargo admitted. “It calls for wit and wile.”
    â€œWit and wile,” Old Billy groused. “This was a simple job when I hired on. Help you fight off the featherheads while you spotted good locations for line stations for the Pony. Russell, Majors and Waddell ain’t patient men, Fargo. They still got to get all these stations built and hire men to run ’em. Happens we come in way behind schedule, that throws the whole shootin’ match off.”
    â€œNo need to fret,” Fargo