Trailsman #360 : Texas Lead Slingers (9781101544860) Read Free

come as a surprise to the Deerforths to learn that Ginny was pregnant so late in life. That was fourteen years ago, and now the girl was the apple of their eye. They treated her like a princess yet she didn’t act spoiled. Now she threw her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.
    â€œUncle Skye!”
    â€œWe’re not kin,” Fargo always reminded her when she called him that.
    Roselyn stepped back, grinning. “A good thing, too, or when I’m older it could cause a scandal.”
    â€œThat’s no way for a lady to talk,” the senator said.
    They hugged, the adoration in the father’s eyes shining for all to see.
    Fargo left them and mingled. He talked to a few players and came around a high-backed chair and there was Ginny with a glass in her lap. He was mildly surprised. She hardly ever touched the stuff. “What’s the occasion, ma’am?”
    â€œOld age.”
    â€œYou don’t look a day over forty.”
    Ginny’s mouth crinkled. “Flatterer.” She wagged the glass. “I’m getting into practice. Or haven’t you heard that Marion is retiring?”
    â€œI’ve heard.”
    â€œWith him home all the time, I’ll need it to steady my nerves.”
    â€œHe’s a lucky gent.”
    â€œNo,” Ginny said, “he’s not.” She drained half the glass without batting an eye or coughing.
    â€œDamn, woman,” Fargo said.
    â€œIt’s not as if I never partake,” Ginny confided. “I like a nip now and then.”
    â€œI’m shocked.”
    â€œWe all have our secrets,” Ginny said.
    They happened to be near a window. About to take a swallow, Fargo glanced out of it and saw two men not twenty yards from the mansion.
    It was Ranson and Jules.

4
    In the time it took Fargo to reach the front door, the pair had vanished. He went down the steps three at a bound and paused at the bottom.
    The plantation sprawled for hundreds of acres. Most of the land was devoted to cotton. Besides the mansion, there was a stable and more than a score of outbuildings.
    The stable was lit as brightly as the house. Some of the guests were staying at the hotel in town, and carriages were lined up, the drivers waiting. A few had arrived on horseback and their animals were tied to a hitch rail.
    Fargo went to the first carriage. The driver’s arms were folded and his chin was on his chest; he appeared to be dozing.
    â€œDid you see two men near here a minute ago?”
    The man gave a start and looked up. “What? No, I didn’t, mister.”
    The answer was the same at the next carriage and the one after that.
    Fargo entered the stable. A black man was forking hay. No, no one had come in.
    In a stall partway down stood the Ovaro. Fargo patted it and pondered and went out the back to the corral. Beyond were shacks, their windows aglow, and past them tilled fields.
    Fargo saw no one and turned to go back. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement. His hand on the Colt, he approached the corral. A dozen horses milled. A trough was near the gate. He started around it and a figure reared and was on him in the bat of an eye. He got his hand up as a knife speared at his chest and caught hold of a bony wrist. Fingers clamped onto his arm, preventing him from drawing the Colt.
    â€œGot you now,” Jules said, and kneed him.
    Pain exploded in Fargo’s groin. He tried to backpedal but Jules clung on. The man was strong, and determined. A foot hooked Fargo’s ankle and the next he knew, he was on his back with Jules on his chest and the tip of the knife sinking toward his throat. He held it at bay but it took all his strength.
    â€œDie, damn you.”
    Fargo was worried that Ranson would join in. He’d be easy to finish off, pinned as he was. To remedy that he bucked and rammed his head against Jules’s chin. It was like ramming an anvil. His senses swam and he almost blacked out. He