The Trailsman 317 Read Online Free PDF Page B

perilous aspect of life on the frontier that those who wanted to live to see the next dawn must never forget.
    â€œI can’t get over them taking my hairbrush. What a low-down thing to do.”
    â€œDid they try to hurt you?”
    â€œNo. They only wanted the brush. They took it and ran. That was when I shouted for you, and chased after them. But they are fast little devils—I will grant them that.”
    â€œYou were lucky you didn’t blunder into their village,” Fargo said. Some tribes tortured captives before they killed them, although he had heard nothing to suggest the Untillas were one of them.
    â€œIf I had, I would have given them a piece of my mind and demanded they give my hairbrush back.”
    â€œYou are a fool, Mabel Landry,” Fargo said.
    Mabel slowed, her face mirroring shock and hurt in equal degrees. “How can you say a thing like that?”
    â€œAll you care about is your stupid brush when you should be worried for your life.”
    â€œYou fret too much.”
    â€œAnd you don’t worry enough. We must light a shuck and put a lot of miles behind us before we will be safe.”
    After that, neither said a word until they reached the clearing. Fargo was relieved to find the horses still there. “Mount up.”
    Mabel, her arms folded across her bosom, glared at him and at the world in general. “Running scared, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. That is what you are doing.”
    â€œInsult me all you want,” Fargo said. “I am only doing what I have to do to keep you alive.”
    â€œYou will earn no thanks from me. You don’t seem to realize how important that hairbrush is.”
    If Fargo lived to be a hundred he would never fully understand women. He grinned at the thought, and forked leather. “I won’t ask you again.” The Untillas could show up at any moment.
    â€œYou did not ask. You ordered me.” Deliberately moving slowly to annoy him, Mabel climbed on her mare. “I will not forget this. I will not forgive you, either.”
    Tired of her carping, Fargo responded with, “This is the reason I doubt I will ever marry.” He pricked the Ovaro with his spurs, heading south. He did not look back this time. If she followed, fine. If not, the consequences were on her shoulders, not his. But after a bit he heard the drum of the mare’s hooves.
    Alert for movement or warriors concealed in ambush, Fargo rode with his hand on the Colt. He would rather avoid the Untillas than fight them, but fight he would, if forced.
    Fargo was not an Indian hater. He was not one of the countless whites who despised Indians simply because they were red. He did not look down his nose at them as inferior, or deem them savages, or heathens. They had their way of life, and the whites had theirs. But strip away beliefs in the Almighty versus the Great Spirit, and some of the different customs, and the red man and the white man were a lot more alike than either was willing to admit.
    They had been riding for an hour when Mabel coughed and called out, “Slow up a minute, will you?”
    Fargo obliged, and she came up next to him. “I warn you,” he said. “It better not be about that damn hairbrush or I will take you over my knee and spank you.”
    Mabel, surprisingly, grinned. “I might like that. But no, I want to say I am sorry for how I acted back there. Now that I have had time to think, I see I treated you unfairly.”
    â€œThere is hope for you yet.”
    â€œI have a temper, yes, and I tend to speak my mind when I shouldn’t. But I am mature enough to admit my mistakes.” Mabel looked at him. “No hard feelings, I trust?”
    â€œNo hard feelings,” Fargo set her at ease. “But if you still want to be spanked, remind me tonight.”
    Mabel laughed. “I was beginning to think you might be a monk in disguise. It is good to know we are both of us