Free Idaho Gold Fever by Jon Sharpe

moment.”
    “I daresay you’re not. I talked to Mr. Rinson last night after that little incident in the cottonwoods. He thinks you are a troublemaker and up to no good.”
    “Does he, now?”
    “Yes, indeed. He suspects you are out to rob the farmers. So he and his men are keeping a close eye on you from here on out.”
    Fargo tried to look at it from Rinson’s point of view. It was possible, just possible, that if Rinson was genuinely interested in protecting the settlers, he would think it suspicious of him to attach himself to the wagon train as he had done.
    “I should tell you,” Victor Gore said. “Mr. Winston and his people don’t have much money. They spent most of what they had buying their wagons and outfitting for their journey.”
    “I’m not out to rob them.”
    “I hope not. You’re terribly quick with that pistol of yours, and you punch as hard as any man I’ve ever seen, but Mr. Rinson and his men are tough, too. They won’t hesitate to throw lead if they have to.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Gore swatted at a fly. “Rinson sure is clever. I never would have thought of offering myself as a protector.”
    “A what?”
    “That’s what he calls himself. There are plenty of pilots and guides and whatnot. But Mr. Rinson only hires out to protect wagon trains. So he calls himself and his friends protectors.”
    Fargo could see where a notion like that might catch on. Wagon trains were often beset by hostiles. Outlaws, wild beasts and other perils compounded the danger. Emigrants would gladly hire an outfit to see them safely through to Oregon or wherever else they were bound. “How much did Rinson ask for?”
    “Money, you mean? His fee was two hundred dollars, half in advance, the other half when we reach our destination. Mr. Winston and his people pooled nearly all the funds they have left to pay him.”
    Fargo did the math in his head. If Rinson and his men divided the money equally, that came to twenty-five dollars each. Not a lot for putting their lives in peril. Then again, if a man was frugal and a little lucky at cards, he could spend a month or more at a saloon, drinking and taking up with doves. Some men would rate that worth the risk of taking an arrow. “Are the settlers paying you, too?”
    “Goodness, no. I was going to the valley anyway. Mr. Winston offered to pay me but I wouldn’t hear of it.”
    “You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”
    A grin split Gore’s face. “You needn’t sound so sarcastic. I just told you I was going there anyway.”
    “Even though the Nez Perce are stirred up?”
    “None of us live forever, Mr. Fargo.”
    When the sun was straight overhead Gore called a halt. The farmers gladly spilled from their wagons to stretch and stroll about. Some took the time to eat a quick meal.
    Fargo was by himself, sitting under a pine with his back to the trunk and his hat brim low over his eyes, when a dress swished and a warm hand brushed his cheek.
    “You haven’t said ten words to me all morning.”
    Fargo pushed his hat back on his head and squinted up at Rachel Winston. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
    Rachel grinned and sank down, her shapely legs coiled under her. “What do you have in mind, kind sir?”
    “What do you think?” Fargo rejoined, and went to reach for her.
    “Not in broad daylight!” Rachel cried, drawing back. “Everyone will talk.”
    “They’re talking anyway.”
    “Yes. But they’re doing it behind our backs. Were we to carry on now, some might see fit to complain to my ma and pa, and they’re upset enough with me as it is.”
    “They don’t approve?”
    “What kind of question is that? Of course they don’t approve. It would be different if we were to be married. As it is, they think I’m a woman of loose morals.”
    “They said that?”
    “No, but I can read it in their faces. I’ve disappointed them, I’m afraid.” Rachel leaned closer and lowered her voice. “But it was worth