Texas Tornado by Jon Sharpe Page B

whoever else she has in mind?”
    â€œI suppose. Again, what difference does it make? I won’t lose any sleep over it and neither should you.”
    No, Fargo wouldn’t, but he continued to the east.
    â€œWhy are you doing this?” Carmody asked. “If they get hold of you, they’ll slap a leg iron on and you’ll be digging ditches and planting crops from now until doomsday.”
    Fargo didn’t answer.
    â€œDamn it,” Carmody snapped. “I don’t understand, and I’d like to.”
    â€œI already told you.”
    â€œBecause she has your stupid rifle?”
    Fargo grunted.
    â€œWhat kind of reason is that? I refuse—you hear me? I refuse to go back there and be chained like some animal all over again.”
    â€œNo one is forcing you.”
    â€œPlease don’t.”
    â€œHead west if you want. In six or seven days you’ll reach a settlement called Travis.”
    â€œGo all that way by my lonesome? With Comanches and God knows what else out there?” Carmody glared. “I hate this. I pray you know what in hell you’re doing.”
    Fargo didn’t say anything, but so did he.

15
    Half a mile farther they heard more shots. Four blasts in quick cadence—
bam, bam, bam, bam
—which hinted to Fargo that the shooter was sure of his target.
    They spied the bodies from a hundred yards out, four sprawled figures at the side of the road.
    Fargo drew his Colt and they cautiously advanced. He didn’t need to examine the fallen to be sure they were dead. All four had been shot in the head.
    Dismounting, he roved about, reconstructing the sign. Two horses were off in the grass, grazing. The other two had run off.
    Carmody stayed on her mount, her features a mirror of disbelief. “Alice did this?”
    â€œAppears so,” Fargo said.
    â€œSweet, quiet, little Alice?”
    â€œIt’s the posse that man we found earlier was with. He went on ahead while they stopped to rest and waited for him to report back, remember?”
    â€œI don’t see the marshal.”
    â€œMako wasn’t with it.” Fargo rolled one of the bodies over. “This one was.”
    â€œDeputy Clyde!” Carmody exclaimed.
    The weasel had been hit smack between the eyes. In death he was even uglier than in life.
    Fargo noticed something else. “See that watch lying there? And that folding knife? She went through their pockets and pokes.”
    â€œShe robbed them?”
    Fargo came to the last man. A revolver lay next to him, but he wasn’t wearing a gun belt. The revolver was the same caliber as Fargo’s Henry. “She got hold of more ammunition.”
    â€œAnd rode on to town?” Carmody gazed eastward. “Dear God. What does she think she can do?”
    â€œHaven’t you been paying attention? She’s out for revenge.”
    â€œAlice is one woman against a whole town,” Carmody said. “She doesn’t stand a prayer.”
    â€œShe’s killed five men in an hour’s time,” Fargo said. “That’s a damn good start.” Climbing on the Ovaro, he flicked the reins.
    â€œWhy wasn’t the marshal with them?”
    â€œHe’s probably overseeing the search for the rest and sent Clyde and those other four after us.”
    â€œToo bad,” Carmody said. “If he’d been with them, he’d be dead, too, and Alice would have her vengeance.”
    â€œYou’re forgetting the mayor and Gwendolyn and whoever else she’s out to kill.”
    â€œYou don’t think—” Carmody stopped, as if her thought surprised her. “You don’t think she’s out to make the whole town suffer, do you? She wouldn’t do something like poison their water, would she?”
    â€œWhat makes you say that?”
    â€œShe mentioned a few times how much she hated the town and everyone in it. Said as how she’d like it if all of them were