Free Outlaw Trackdown by Jon Sharpe

her.
    â€œYou know how to shoot, don’t you?”
    â€œI’ll think about it,” Fargo lied. It would be a cold day in hell before he did anything so foolish as go up against half a dozen killers alone.
    â€œYou do that.” Amanda smiled. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day so I’ll be off.” She rose and nodded and walked out.
    Fargo’s food came. He was famished, and he put Hoby Cotton from his mind to devote himself to an inch-thick steak sizzling with fat, a baked potato drowning in butter, and peas. He washed it all down with four cups of piping hot coffee.
    He was in good spirits when he left the restaurant but it lasted only a couple of steps. Across the street, Marshal Coltraine and Deputy Wilkins were jawing with a pair of citizens. The lawman saw him coming and moved to meet him.
    â€œStill no sign of Timbre Wilson. I’d say he’s long gone and you have nothing to worry about.”
    â€œHave any plans for tonight?”
    â€œAfter the past couple of days, I reckoned I’d kick back and take it easy. Why do you ask?”
    Fargo told him about Amanda and her claim about the Cotton Gang.
    â€œShe told you but not me?” the lawman said in surprise.
    â€œI wondered about that too,” Fargo said.
    â€œBut you came to me, anyway. Good thinking.” Coltraine squinted skyward. The sun had almost set and the gray of twilight was spreading. “We’ll wait till dark so no one sees us ride out.”
    Fargo didn’t see why that was important but he didn’t bring it up.
    â€œIf what she said is true,” Coltraine had continued, “we can put an end to the Cotton Gang once and for all.”
    â€œHow big a posse this time?”
    â€œYou and me,” Coltraine said.
    â€œIs that smart?”
    â€œYou saw what I had to work with before. It would be the same all over again. I’d rather have someone at my side who knows what he’s doing. And you do.”
    â€œWhat about Deputy Wilkins?”
    â€œSomebody has to stay and mind the town,” Coltraine replied. “No, the two of us are enough.”
    Fargo hoped to God he was right.

15
    Stars sparkled overhead when Fargo climbed on the Ovaro and rode around to the rear of the marshal’s office. Coltraine’s bay was already tied there, waiting.
    The door opened and the lawman emerged. “You’re right on time. Good.” He was carrying a Spencer, which he shoved into his saddle scabbard.
    â€œIt’s not too late to round up a few others,” Fargo mentioned.
    â€œI didn’t take you for skittish.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t take me for stupid, either,” Fargo told him.
    â€œI was willin’ to risk those cowpokes and a few clerks and whatnot for Amanda’s sake, but not now. Let’s drop it.” Coltraine’s saddle creaked as he swung on. “I’m pleased enough havin’ you along. Folks consider me hell on wheels but a man’s got to know how much he can and can’t do.”
    â€œWe agree there,” Fargo said.
    There was no moon. The starlight lent a pale cast to the prairie grass and was barely enough to see by. Now and again a coyote yipped and once a streaking meteor cleaved the heavens.
    Marshal Coltraine was grimness personified. “They better be there,” he commented at one point. “I want to end this.”
    So did Fargo. The sooner it was over, the sooner he was shed of Horse Creek and everyone in it.
    Half an hour out, the silhouettes of hills appeared.
    Fargo took his bearings by the North Star. Apparently, Coltraine didn’t need to. The marshal never once glanced at the heavens. “You know where we’re headed?”
    â€œEveryone hereabouts knows about the Kemp place. It’s been there since the town started.”
    Presently a small square of light broke the night, and they drew rein.
    â€œThat would be it,” Marshal Coltraine