Free Northwoods Nightmare by Jon Sharpe Page A

pardon?”
    Edith said, “Allen, don’t.”
    â€œIt’s time it came out, Mother,” Allen responded. “So tell us, Father. Are you leaving a sizable amount to your precious friend?”
    Now Theodore did rise, and he was shaking with barely contained fury. “I will thank you not to talk about him that way. He has been of more worth to me than you could ever hope to be.”
    Allen stood, too. “Of course he has. But then, I’m only your son.”
    Angeline finally broke her silence. “Let it drop. You do none of us any favors.”
    To Fargo’s surprise, Allen glanced at him.
    â€œDo you hear this? Perish forbid we should air our dark family secrets in public. But you see how it is, don’t you? How a son can rate so low in his own father’s affections?”
    Theodore balled his bony fists. “That has nothing to do with Cosmo and everything to do with you and your attitude. You are insolent. You are lazy. You talk about squandering? Any money I leave you, you’ll waste on the nightlife you love so much.”
    â€œCulture is costly, Father. But very well. As usual, everyone is against me. If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a trying day and I think I’ll retire.” Allen wheeled and strode to his tent. At the flap he looked back. “A last thought, Father. It could be I’m more loyal than any of them. Did you ever think of that?
    I’ve kept your secret all these years, haven’t I?” The flap closed behind him.
    â€œI never,” Edith said.
    Theodore sadly bowed his head. “I’ve given him everything and this is how he repays me.”
    â€œPay him no mind, Father,” Angeline said. “He delights in upsetting people. It’s in his nature.”
    Cosmo cleared his throat. “Might I suggest we forget his ill manners and enjoy our meal?”
    Fargo had had enough. He refilled his tin and walked off. The camp was quiet save for low voices and an occasional laugh. Overhead, myriad stars gleamed. He bent his head back and was admiring them when someone spoke almost at his feet.
    â€œBe careful or you will step on us.”
    Teit and Chelahit were huddled next to each other, nearly invisible in the dark.
    It occurred to Fargo that he hadn’t laid eyes on them since the sun went down. “What are you two doing over here by yourselves?”
    â€œIt is best.”
    Fargo squatted. “Best how?” He went to take a sip of coffee and her grandfather sniffed.
    Teit nodded toward the campfires. “They do not want our company. McKern is nice to us. And the horse man, Rohan. But the rest look at us with suspicious eyes.”
    â€œThere’s no shortage of stupid in this world.” Fargo held his cup closer to them and her grandfather sniffed again. “Have you two had a bite to eat or anything to drink?”
    â€œI did not want to impose.”
    â€œHell.” Fargo rose and walked to the cook fire. He filled two bowls, put wooden spoons in them, and carried the bowls back. “Here. And don’t give me any bull about not being hungry.”
    â€œWe have no money to pay you.”
    â€œWho asked for any?” Fargo placed a bowl in her lap and touched the other bowl to her grandfather’s chest. The old man went to take it but hesitated, turned his head to her, and said something in their own tongue. She answered, then looked up.
    â€œWhy are you being so kind to us?”
    â€œYou’re hungry. Eat.” Fargo touched the bowl to the grandfather again and this time he took it. He returned to the fire and filled two cups with coffee. As he was about to walk off, Edith Havard cleared her throat.
    â€œAre those for that squaw and her grandfather?”
    Fargo nodded.
    â€œYou have your gall. You might ask before you share our food. We paid for the supplies, not you.”
    â€œYou’d deny them this little bit?”
    â€œThey’re Indians,”