The Trailsman 317 Read Free

Mabel said. “I was furious when you refused to bring me, and I marched down to the stable to hire a horse to come after you. Mr. Cyst and Mr. Welt happened to be there, overheard me talking to the stable owner, and offered to escort me.”
    â€œSo you did not have it planned in advance?”
    â€œGoodness, no. I had expected to come with you, if you will remember.” Mabel ducked under a limb that jutted out over the trail. “Ironic, is it not? Were Mr. Cyst as evil as you claim, and if he had murdered me along the way, my death would be your fault for not letting me ride with you.”
    â€œYou should have stayed in Denver,” Fargo said. “At least there you would be safe.”
    â€œOh, bosh. You fret too much over trifles.”
    â€œYou are as green as grass,” Fargo said.
    â€œYou can quit trying to scare me,” Mabel told him. “I am as safe here as I would be anywhere.”
    No sooner were the words out of her ruby red mouth than the undergrowth rustled and out ambled a black bear.

2
    Skye Fargo’s hand streaked to his Colt but he did not draw.
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?” Mabel anxiously demanded. She had reined up in alarm and was wide-eyed with amazement. “Shoot it!”
    The bear had stopped and was regarding them with interest. It did not bare its teeth or growl or otherwise seem disposed to attack.
    Fargo saw that it was a young bear, no more than two years old. It was more curious than anything else. “Sit real still and it might leave us be.”
    â€œBut it is a bear !” Mabel said breathlessly. “And bears kill people!”
    â€œGrizzlies do on occasion,” Fargo quietly allowed. “But black bears hardly ever. Now hush, and don’t let your horse act up.” His pinto had encountered bears before and was not prone to be skittish, but her mare was prancing, a sure sign of fright.
    â€œWell, I never!” Mabel declared. She tugged on her reins and the mare stopped prancing. But it would not take much to send the horse racing off in panicked flight.
    The black bear was tilting its head from side to side, and sniffing. It pawed the ground, its long claws leaving deep furrows.
    â€œPlease shoot it!” Mabel whispered. “Can’t you see it is about to tear into us?”
    Fargo saw no such thing. He was content to sit there until the bear wandered off. “Be still.”
    â€œI will not!” Mabel Landry said. Her hand inched toward the Remington on her hip.
    â€œWhat caliber is your revolver?”
    Mabel’s hand stopped. “Caliber? Oh. The nice man who sold it to me in Denver said it is a thirty-two. He assured me I could kill most anything with it.”
    â€œThe nice man was a liar,” Fargo enlightened her. “It is fit for rabbits and quail and might drop a man if you hit him in his vitals, but anything bigger and you might as well throw it and run.”
    â€œYou are just saying that because you don’t want me to shoot this bear,” Mabel said.
    â€œI am saying it because if you do shoot, all you are liable to do is make him mad,” Fargo cautioned. “Bear skulls are ungodly thick, and the rest is mainly muscle and fat. Even a Sharps doesn’t always penetrate.”
    â€œUnlike you, I am not afraid to try.” Mabel wrapped her slender fingers around the Remington’s grips.
    â€œLeave it be. This bear is harmless.”
    â€œSays you,” Mabel said. “Perhaps this one isn’t all that big but it could still rip my mount’s belly open and then once my horse was done do the same to me, besides.”
    Fargo was tired of her bickering. “You are a fool. I will see to your burial. Whatever is left of you, that is.”
    Mabel scowled, but she did not unlimber her hardware. “You are just trying to scare me, like you did with Mr. Cyst and Mr. Welt. But I am not timid. I do not faint at the sight of blood, nor do I