Free High Country Horror by Jon Sharpe Page A

possibly get any worse but it did. She vanished. We searched and searched. Our neighbors helped and townsmen came and Marshal Tibbit organized them, the one thing he’s done right. But there was no trace of Tamar anywhere.” She looked at Fargo. Tears had formed at the corners of her eyes and were trickling down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what to think. Was the married man to blame? Or was it whoever took the first girl, Felicity? And then when those other girls went missing—” She stopped and shook her head. “It’s all so confusing.”
    “It seems to be,” Fargo said.
    Susannah wiped her face with her sleeve. “Then I heard about you and here I am. Will you accept the money or not?”
    “Not,” Fargo said, and slid the purse across to her.
    “You do have scruples.”
    “I’m not a paid assassin.”
    “I just hate to think he might get away with it. That Tibbit will arrest him and he’ll go on trial and maybe they’ll put him in prison instead of being strung up by the neck as he should be.”
    “I’ll do what needs doing,” Fargo said. Beyond that, he wasn’t willing to make a promise he might not be able to keep.
    “If that’s how it has to be.” Susannah took the purse and slowly rose, a portrait in misery. “I had such high hopes.”
    Fargo walked around and gently gripped her arms. When she raised her head he looked her in the eyes and said again, “I’ll do what needs doing. On that you can count.”
    “Oh,” Susannah said, and then again, more happily, “Oh. I see. In that case you’re still welcome to the money.”
    “No, thanks.” Fargo ushered her down the hall. As they came to the parlor Helsa met them and escorted Susannah the rest of the way. Fargo returned to the kitchen, refilled his coffee cup, and sat at the table, pondering.
    Helsa came back. She filled her cup and claimed a chair and stared at him as if expecting him to say something. When he didn’t, she said, “Well?”
    “Well what?”
    “Care to share what the two of you were talking about? I was polite and didn’t listen but I would dearly love to know.”
    “She wouldn’t want me to say.”
    Helsa sipped and set the cup down and folded her fingers around it. “She said an interesting thing as she was leaving.”
    “About?”
    “You.”
    “Me?”
    “Yes. She looked back and said, and I’ll quote her, ‘He’s a good man, that Skye Fargo.’ You must have impressed her.”
    Fargo shrugged.
    “Goodness, you talk a body’s ears off.”
    Fargo sat back. A notion had occurred to him, and he said, “I’ve got a question for you about the first girl, Felicity.”
    “You won’t answer mine but you expect me to answer yours?”
    “Is there any chance she might have taken up with a married man before she disappeared?”
    It was Helsa’s turn to sit back. “So that’s what Susannah confided in you.” She tapped her cup. “I don’t know. Felicity was attractive, and headstrong. It’s possible, I suppose.” Her brow knit with recollection. “And now that I think of it, my husband was awful secretive about whatever he found out before he disappeared. He mentioned once that he had an idea who was to blame but when I pressed him he wouldn’t say anything except that if he was right it was despicable.” She looked at Fargo. “My God. You don’t think a married man is going around seducing our young girls and then murdering them?”
    “Never put anything past anyone,” Fargo said.
    “Is that your outlook on life? God, how cynical. If I believed like you do, I’d go around all day in the dumps.”
    “I have the cure up in my room and my invite still holds.”
    “About having a drink with you? I thought you’d forgotten, what with Susannah’s visit.”
    “Some women say it is all men ever think about,” Fargo replied, and grinned.
    “After what you said about a married man, I could use a drink. But just one,” Helsa cautioned. “And I want you to promise that you’ll behave yourself.