Free California Crackdown by Jon Sharpe Page B

from Denver. He had helped one of her girls get away from her to marry a grocer who was headed west. It seemed the madam still held a grudge and could handle a very large Colt.
    Both Walt and Jim complained about their feet hurting and how they hadn’t realized just how big Sacramento had become. Fargo was surprised at that as well. He’d always thought of Sacramento as a bustling but fairly small city.
    After dinner they headed back out.
    Two hours later Fargo found Daniel sitting in the front parlor of a brothel. He was drunk, so drunk that he could hardly move. It was clear he had been flashing money around like he had more than enough of it. And Daniel’s money was like honey to the girls, who took turns sitting on his lap, kissing him, giving him more drinks, and relieving him of his money.
    Fargo walked into the parlor and pushed one girl gently aside before yanking Daniel to his feet. “You’re coming with me, kid.”
    “Hey,” protested the madam, a large woman with enormous breasts that seemed to want to escape from her low-cut sheer robe in a thousand different directions. “You can’t go taking my customers.”
    “Yeah,” Daniel said, trying to pull away from Fargo’s grasp. “Who are you anyway?”
    “I work for your father,” Fargo said, then solidly punched Daniel square in the nose, sending blood gushing and the kid slumping, out cold. More than likely he hit the kid a little harder than he needed to, but he was still damn angry at Daniel.
    Fargo held Daniel up and fished for the kid’s money, tossing the entire wad of bills to the madam. “Sorry for the mess and the problem,” Fargo said. “The kid’s now broke.”
    “Pleasure doing business with you,” the madam said as the bills vanished into the massive canyon that was her cleavage.
    Fargo tossed Daniel up over his good shoulder and went out the door held open by one of the girls, ignoring the looks from passersby as he headed back to where he was to meet Jim and Walt.
    He propped Daniel up on a bench and wiped some of the blood from his face while he waited. The kid was still out cold and likely would be until he slept off all the booze.
    Fargo sat down beside the kid, watching everyone on the street. It had been a long day and the wounds in his shoulder were aching again. He could use a good night’s sleep as well.
    When Walt and Jim finally arrived, Fargo had Walt carry Daniel back to the Mine Shaft Saloon. The hotel attached to the saloon was where they had stayed and left their gear, expecting to return tonight. They put Daniel on the floor in their room and tied him securely to the large metal-framed bed.
    Fargo got his own room, then went back to see if the kid was awake yet. It was no surprise that he wasn’t.
    “Take turns guarding him. And make sure he doesn’t get away. He’s got a lot of talking to do tomorrow. I’m in the room next door.”
    For the second night, the moment Fargo lay down on the bed he was out like someone had snuffed a candle. The rays of the sun the next morning woke him.
    This morning his shoulder felt a little better. He checked under one bandage and then pulled it off. The doc had stitched both wounds and they looked like they were healing just fine. He started to put on his shirt when he realized the heavy stitches would catch on the cloth. He quickly taped the bandage back on. Maybe a couple more days and he could again wear a shirt without it. Maybe.
    The room next door sounded like a factory going full tilt. All three men were snoring like it was a competition to see who could be the loudest. And to be honest, Fargo couldn’t tell.
    Walt was in the chair, his pistol on his lap. Jim was on the bed, and Daniel was still tied up on the floor.
    Fargo moved silently just inside the door and then slammed it behind him.
    Walt came out of the chair, sending his gun spinning across the floor.
    Jim jerked and rolled off the bed on the window side, coming up a moment later with his gun in his