Nevada Vipers' Nest Read Free Page A

and Scully had deliberately selected a spot pockmarked with ant beds. Unable to slap at the pests, both men were plagued by the fiery bites.
    â€œHold on here a minute, Iron Mike,” spoke up a tentative voice from the shadows.
    A bonfire was burning in the middle of camp, casting lurid orange-yellow light on the assembled faces. Fargo watched a miner step forward into the brighter illumination. The Trailsman took in a slump-shouldered man with a strong hawk nose and a face lined deep like cracked leather. He looked vaguely familiar. But when Fargo spotted the nervous tic that kept the man’s left eye winking half shut, he immediately recognized him.
    â€œI know him,” Fargo muttered to Sitch. “His name’s Duffy Beckman.”
    â€œWell, you got a chicken bone caught in your throat?” Iron Mike demanded. “You got something to say, spit it out.”
    â€œIt’s just . . . Well, see, I know Skye Fargo, Mike. There ain’t no way in pluperfect hell he coulda done what you’re saying.”
    â€œYou calling me a liar, Beckman?”
    â€œâ€™Course not,” Duffy hastened to say. “I just think you’re honestly mistaken. See, I was out at the prospecting camp called Buckskin Joe, back in the Rockies, when Fargo led us in a fight against claim jumpers. Sure, he’s a killer when he’s pushed to it and a damn good one. But he
ain’t
no goldang murderer, most especial of women and kids.”
    â€œYou like him, do you?”
    â€œWell, I’m just saying he’s a plumb good sort, is all.”
    Iron Mike gave a snort of derision. “Well, now, boys, sounds like the winker here is in love. We best get him to a whore in Carson City quick.”
    Plenty of men laughed at this, but Fargo noticed that others held silent. Now another voice spoke up from the flickering shadows.
    â€œI ain’t never met Fargo, Iron Mike. But I’ve heard this and that about him. I never heard of no stain on his name. Might be we should slow down here, maybe poke into this thing a little more.”
    â€œBalls! I’m telling you flat-out we caught the son of a bitch picking over the bodies! Boys, plenty of men got them a newspaper reputation as ‘heroes,’ but them weak sisters in the newspaper trade are turning shit into strawberries on account it sells more papers. Duffy claims Fargo helped put the kibosh on some claim jumpers and maybe he did. But Duffy also admits Fargo’s a killer and a damn good one.”
    Now Romer pitched into the game. “Boys, you didn’t see it like me and Mike and Leroy done. That pretty woman and her innocent little girls, layin’ there in the dirt like so much tossed-out trash! Women and little girls! Christ Almighty! Has it come to this—Western men defending the murderers of women and kids?”
    This stirred the men up, and Iron Mike immediately took advantage of their strong emotions.
    â€œLet’s put it to the vote right now! All in favor of standing up for women and kids, sound off now!”
    A loud chorus of assenting votes rose from the assembled miners.
    â€œAll who are opposed sound off!”
    Fargo heard a few halfhearted no votes.
    â€œThat cinches it!” Iron Mike shouted triumphantly. “Tomorrow, just after sunup, we drag-hang these bastards.”
    The meeting broke up and Scully crossed toward Fargo. He brought a hard straight-arm punch into Fargo’s already bruised and swollen lips, slamming his head back into the tree.
    â€œYou heard it, Fargo. You two galoots will see your last sunrise tomorrow. How you like
them
apples, hero?”
    Fargo tasted salt as the blood pooled in his mouth. “Not too much,” he admitted.
    Iron Mike laughed before strolling away. Fargo had survived every manner of danger during his life on the frontier, including other seemingly hopeless situations where lesser men would have given up. But he didn’t believe in