Utah Deadly Double (9781101558867) Read Online Free Page A

of ’em and we’ll work as a team.”
    â€œI have good ears, sir,” Dorothy Kreeger said.
    â€œBeg pardon, ma’am,” Old Billy said. “I’ll launder my talk.”
    â€œBetter yet,” Fargo told him, “don’t talk at all, you chucklehead.”
    He turned to Ginny, who was leaning on her mother. “Is this the same horse you saw earlier? Take your time and look close.”
    She did, hobbling around the Ovaro for a complete study.
    â€œWell, they sure do look powerful similar,” she finally said. “The color is just right, and so is the saddle. The markings . . . you know how it is with a paint. I can’t swear those are alike.”
    â€œHow ’bout size and shape?” Fargo pressed.
    Ginny looked some more. “The two seem as tall. But this horse seems to have more muscle in its . . .”
    She pointed.
    â€œHaunches?” Fargo supplied.
    â€œYes. And this one seems deeper in its chest.”
    Fargo nodded. “Now, where’s the exact spot where you were attacked, Ginny?”
    She pointed. “I went out the south gate. There’s irrigated fields out there for about a mile. The last two are hayfields divided by the only trail. I was at the edge of the left field when he rode up.”
    â€œWas he coming from camp or toward it?”
    â€œToward it.”
    Fargo thanked both women and forked leather. As the two men headed for the gate, he realized he had jumped over a snake this time: He had a bulletproof alibi in the form of that poker game.
    Next time, Fargo realized, he wouldn’t likely be so lucky. And “justice,” in the lawless Far West, was usually more swift than certain.

3
    Fargo and Old Billy rode the narrow lane side by side through the irrigated fields, Mormon field hands watching them from lidded gazes.
    â€œWord got out fast,” Billy remarked. “Looks like you’re totin’ the no-good label, Fargo.”
    The Trailsman was relaxed in the saddle but vigilant, his sun-slitted gaze missing nothing.
    â€œLooks that way,” he agreed cheerfully. “But if I’m the King Rat, what’s that make you for siding me?”
    â€œWhat I’ve always been. A low-down, whiskey-suckin’, mother-lovin’ son of the sagebrush.”
    â€œYou only suck whiskey when somebody else planks their cash. What do you do with your money, save it for your trousseau?”
    â€œFargo, give over with all these questions about my money. You best put your brain toward this hombre that’s raping and cutting women in your name. Word’s bound to spread, you know. We could both end up with our tits in the wringer. I want to finish this job—the wages is damn good.”
    Fargo conceded all this with a grim nod. “Yeah, that’s the deal, all right. It’s a mite curious, huh?”
    Old Billy popped a horehound candy into his mouth. “Curious ? Fargo, a two-headed cow is curious. This here is downright baffling.”
    Fargo nodded again but said nothing. He held the Ovaro to an easy trot in the wagon-rutted lane. Fort Bridger had been built here to take advantage of a natural plateau suited for cropland. But not far beyond the southern edge of the fields, the rugged Utah landscape took over. Hills, some threatening to become small mountains, were interspersed with wind-scrubbed knolls and lofty mesas. Purple sage formed a moving carpet with waves rolling through it when the wind gusted. The hills dotted with bluebonnets and daisies, the green expanses of buffalo grass, were well behind them now.
    â€œThis looks like the spot,” he said, drawing rein. “See where the hay was beat down? That’s where our mystery man raped Ginny.”
    â€œShe says she was raped,” Billy gainsaid, lighting down and tossing his reins forward. “Wouldn’t be the first gal that gave some fellow the go sign and then got in over her head.”
    â€œCould