Free Flathead Fury by Jon Sharpe Page A

Durn informed him. “It is you.”
    Fargo leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “Me?”
    â€œSurely you did not think I was unaware you were here? I know everything that goes on in Polson. Everything ,” Durn stressed.
    â€œIt must be nice to be God.”
    â€œIt is,” Durn said with a smug grin. “I am a generous god, too. I permitted you to stay so you could recover and be fit to travel.”
    â€œPermitted?”
    â€œNo one does anything in Polson without my say-so,” Durn bragged. “But enough about me. Now that you are on your feet, the time has come for you to move on.”
    â€œWhat if I don’t want to go anywhere?” Fargo said.
    â€œYou do not have a choice. By tomorrow morning you will be gone. Say, by ten o’clock. One minute past ten, and if you are still here, well—” Durn did not finish the threat.
    â€œYou want me out of your hair,” Fargo said.
    â€œI want you away from Sally,” Durn corrected him. “She can be a headache, but I have designs on the lady. The two of you living here doesn’t sit well with me.”
    â€œAre you jealous?”
    â€œWhat do I have to be jealous about?” Durn snapped. “If I thought for a second that you and her had—” Again he stopped, and indulged in a sinister smile.
    â€œWhat about my Colt?”
    â€œWhat about it? I gave it to one of my men. Hoyt is his name. He lost his fording a river a week ago.”
    â€œAnd my rifle?”
    â€œThe Henry? I took a fancy to that myself. It is up in my room.”
    â€œI want them back,” Fargo told him.
    â€œIs there no end to your pigheadedness?” Mike Durn leaned toward him. “You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you . And I am not about to give you a gun that you might use against me. Count your blessings that you are getting out of Polson with your hide intact.”
    But was he? Fargo wondered. He would not put it past Durn to have him ambushed on the trail. “Anything else?” he asked when the would-be lord of the territory did not get up and go.
    â€œYou impressed me the other night in the saloon. I have never seen anyone take the punishment you did.”
    â€œGo to hell. You made it happen.”
    Durn ignored the comment. “I doubt anyone in my employ could endure half of what you did. You are tough. Damned tough. Which is why I am willing to let you stay in Polson provided you abide by two conditions.”
    Fargo was genuinely surprised. “Two seconds ago you wanted me out of here. Now I can stay?”
    â€œThe first condition is that you do not so much as speak to Sally Brook, ever. The second is that you come to work for me.”
    All Fargo could do was stare.
    â€œI can use a man like you. In your own way you are as famous as Jim Bridger and Kit Carson. Imagine if word got around that the famous Skye Fargo was riding for me. It would bring people over to my side who otherwise wouldn’t give me a second thought.”
    â€œYou’re serious?”
    Durn made a teepee of his hands. “It is an either-or proposition. Either you leave, or you stay and work for me. And before you say no, bear in mind that I can make it well worth your while once I run the whole territory.”
    â€œDo you walk on water, too?”
    Big Mike Durn laughed. “I don’t need to. I’m not out to claim men’s souls. I just want everyone to think as I think, to see that there isn’t room for us and the redskins. That we must drive the red scum out or exterminate them.”
    Fargo glanced out the back door. Kutler, Tork, and Grunge were watching and listening, ready to spring to Durn’s aid if need be. “You must need spectacles. From where I stand, there is plenty of space for both.”
    Durn’s features hardened. “So you are one of those, are you? A red-lover? You care more about those who kill your kind than about those