Free Beartooth Incident by Jon Sharpe

suspected that Frank Harper had been one of those pigheaded sorts who had to do everything his way.
    Mary had more to say. “Frank was a loner. I knew that when I married him, and I accepted it. No one is perfect. The few flaws he had were more than outweighed by his good qualities. A woman couldn’t ask for a more kind and considerate father to her children. And he always did his best for us.”
    “I’m glad you were happy.”
    “I was, Skye. Really and truly. Oh, we didn’t have much, but we had one another, and that counted more to me than anything.”
    Jayce said, “I loved my pa.”
    “Me, too,” Nelly threw in.
    Fargo let it drop. It wasn’t any of his business, anyhow. He finished eating, pushed back his plate, and patted his belly. “That was about one of the best meals I ever ate.”
    Mary was pleased. “I have another surprise for you, but it doesn’t have to do with food.” She went to a closet and came back holding something behind her. “You mentioned that you lost your rifle when you lost your horse. Maybe this will do until you can find them.” She held out a Sharps rifle. “This was in Tull’s saddle scabbard.”
    Fargo grinned in delight. He’d used a Sharps for a spell once, and liked it a lot. They held only one shot, but the heavier-caliber models were powerful enough to drop a buffalo or a grizzly.
    “And you’ll need these.”
    In a leather bag was enough ammunition to hold off a war party. Fargo loaded the Sharps and leaned it against his chair. “I’ll go hunting in the morning.” They had done so much for him, the least he could do was put meat on their table.
    Mary sat back down. “I’ve been thinking,” she said hesitantly. “Tull’s horse is tied out back.”
    “So?”
    “You could be long gone when Cud Sten and his men get here.”
    Fargo looked at her. She was asking him to run out on them. “That’s a hell of a thing to say to me.”
    Mary averted her gaze. “It’s just that they’re likely to kill you if you stay. Cud has had his sights set on me for some time. He’ll be jealous, you staying under our roof. Then there’s Tull. No one ever kills one of Cud Sten’s men and lives. He brags about that.”
    The way Fargo saw it, he could do one of three things. He could hide nearby and wait for Sten’s bunch to leave. He could stay put and give a good account of himself. Or he could play cat and mouse. “Has he ever laid a hand on you?”
    Mary flushed. “Not yet, but not through lack of interest. The reason he keeps coming back is that he wants me to be his woman. He told me so to my face. He even hinted that if I don’t give in, he might take me by force.”
    “I figured as much.”
    “I told him that if he ever tried, I would get hold of a knife and cut off parts of him he’s partial to. So far, the threat has kept his hands off me.”
    Fargo was blunt with her. “It won’t do so forever.”
    “No,” Mary agreed. “Why is why I’ve been praying for a miracle.” She added in a low voice, “And here you are.”
    Fargo figured she was joking until he saw the look on her face. “I doubt the Almighty brought me here.”
    “I take it you’re not a religious man? Well, I can’t claim to be all that God-fearing myself. But I have been praying for deliverance, and there you sit, willing to help us. If that’s not a miracle, I don’t know what is.”
    Fargo wasn’t one of those people who saw omens in everyday occurrences. Some Indian tribes did. An owl would fly over their village, and they would take that as a sign of good fortune. To him, it was just an owl that happened to fly past at that moment. Some whites were the same way. A man dying of thirst in the desert might stumble on a tank in the rocks and call it divine deliverance. To Fargo, it was coincidence or a lot of luck.
    “Be that as it may,” Mary was saying, “I don’t want you hurt on my account. Sorry, on our account.”
    Nelly broke in with, “I don’t want you hurt,