Arkansas Assault (16 page)

“We’ll have to be very quiet,” she whispered in his ear.

She began by leading on tiptoes to the east corner of the cabin where he managed to work her jeans down to the middle of her thighs. She faced away from him and was able to spread her legs just enough that Fargo could ease his large and eager rod into the moist and magnificent opening to her womanhood.

He had never before trysted with so many restrictions on him. He couldn’t move too quickly or their shackles would make noise. He couldn’t speak or moan. And she had all the same restrictions.

But he found it very satisfying. He reached up under her blouse and cupped his hand over one of her breasts, both of them surging when contact was made. And the excitement of this moment helped them find the right pace that both of them could share and enjoy.

He quietly worked himself far up inside her, her round buttocks working against his body, only enhancing his desire. She was able to turn her face so that his tongue could slide into her mouth. The increasing urgency pushed even him further up inside her and her muscles there contracted, driving him to the brink of sanity.

They pressed together so tight that when release came he fell against her and continued grinding into her. She didn’t want to stop and he didn’t, either.

Finally they slid to the floor and lay on their backs, a sweaty pile of purely pleased humanity.

 

Fargo was awakened by the violent barking of the dogs. They’d been barking on and off, but from some distance, so he’d been able to pack in three hours of sleep. But this barking was right outside the door of the cabin. He jerked up from deep sleep, momentarily disoriented.

The sisters and Aaron Tillman were just waking up, too.

“I wish I had a gun,” Aaron said grumpily, rubbing sleep from his face. “Right now I’d kill those dogs even before I killed Burgade.”

“I don’t think you
could
kill those dogs,” Nancy yawned. “Even if you had
two
guns. I’m not sure anything could kill them.”

Stephanie laughed. “Except maybe Burgade’s breath.”

“Now there’s a weapon I hadn’t thought of,” Nancy said.

Fargo admired the dialogue. Most prisoners would have long ago—and understandably—sunk into depression and silence. You could only live like this so long before captivity broke you physically and spiritually. But the sisters’ bright chatter spoke of their bravery and determination to survive this experience.

Burgade came in. “Aaron and Stephanie. You’re going out first. Walk over here now.”

“Maybe it’d be easier if you’d just shoot us right here and get it over with,” Aaron said.

“That’d be fine with me. But your brother wouldn’t get his fun if I did that. And one way or another, we all need to keep your brother happy. Now shut your stupid mouth and get your ass over here.”

Fargo watched as the shackled couple made their way to Burgade who stood frowning and impatient, his rifle cradled in his arms as if it were his infant.

When they reached him, Burgade handed Stephanie a key and said, “Take the shackles and cuffs off both of you and then give me the key back.”

“You’re not afraid we might jump you?” Aaron smiled.

“First of all, you haven’t got the guts. Second of all, this rifle would cut you in half at this range. And third of all, even if you got past me, the dogs are right outside.” And right on cue, the dogs started barking again, sounding both vicious and hungry.

Stephanie unlocked the shackles and the cuffs and handed the key to Burgade, who then went to the door and whispered three words in Indian dialect that silenced the dogs instantly. Fargo was impressed. The sonofabitch not only spoke so low it was just about impossible to hear him; he also spoke in what sounded like an Indian tongue Fargo had never heard before.

Burgade waved his rifle at Aaron and Stephanie. “Outside.”

“Those dogs’re settled down now?” Aaron asked, obviously afraid.

Burgade grinned. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

They went outside. The dogs didn’t bark. Nor did they attack. You could hear Burgade laying out the plan for exploring the island.

But Fargo wasn’t paying much attention. He was too busy thinking of ways you could escape dogs whose sole purpose was to kill on command.

 

 

While his deputies circulated among the crowds on this Fourth of July afternoon, Tom Tillman spent his time asking questions. He made them as subtle as he could, as if he really wasn’t asking questions at all but just sort of passing the time. But at least one person must have gotten suspicious about his queries because at around four o’clock a seldom-seen sight appeared like an apparition in the front doorway of the sheriff’s office. Noah Tillman himself.

Tom was manning the front desk so he could help folks who stopped in looking for help. Kids got lost, old people got sick from the heat, honest folks inevitably got cheated by various small-time confidence men who always worked crowds like this. And on and on. Tom wanted people to have a good impression of the town so he was as hospitable and patient as he could be.

When Noah saw him there he said, “You shouldn’t be sitting out here, Tom.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

The coldness of the exchange said a lot about their feelings toward each other. They hadn’t liked each other for a long time. And each deeply distrusted the other. They spoke like rivals who had to work together rather than like father and adopted son.

“Now you should be smart enough to figure that out, Tom.”

“Go ahead and tell me, Noah. I guess I’m too stupid to understand things most of the time.”

Noah sighed. “I didn’t come here to argue, son.” He always called him son when he wanted to cut the tension. “And all I meant was that since you’re the high sheriff, you shouldn’t be doing a deputy’s work. It doesn’t look right for the sheriff to be sitting right out front.”

Tom had to smile. Noah’s pride was so excessive it was comical. He was always aware of everybody’s status. And he sure didn’t want his son, even his adopted son, to be doing the lowly work of a deputy.

“What can I do for you, Dad?” Tom didn’t try to disguise the ironic tone of “Dad.” Noah had never been a father. He’d just never quite taken to the lad and the lad in turn, after several years of trying, decided that he would never take to his adoptive father, either.

Noah took a seat. He took off the fancy straw hat he was wearing and fanned himself. “It’s a hot one.”

“It sure is.”

“The town sure looks nice. Be sure and tell the mayor I think he outdid himself this year.”

“You ever going to get around to telling me why you’re really here?” He hesitated and then added, “Dad.”

“You’ve got a tongue on you like your mother’s. She was always tryin’ to cut me down, too.”

“Maybe she was just trying to make you tell the truth for once.”

Noah stared at him. “You’re an ungrateful bastard, you know that? All I’ve done for you. All that my name got you.”

Tom rolled himself a cigarette while Noah threw out some more accusations and grief. After he lit his cigarette, Tom said, “Somebody told you I’ve been asking questions today about Skeleton Key. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“What the hell right do you have to go around snooping into my private business?”

“There’s a rumor that some people have disappeared. Skeleton Key always comes up. There are a lot of rumors about it.”

“Rumors? Hell, Tom, haven’t you figured it out by now? When you’re rich and powerful the way I am, everybody resents you. And so they start rumors. I once heard that I used to have carnal knowledge of sheep. And don’t smile, boy. That was a very serious rumor for a while.” He shook his head. “Skeleton Key is a perfectly innocent place. If you want to know, I go there to relax. Nobody gets to pester me there. Including all our relatives who’re always asking me for financial help.”

“If it’s so innocent, why all the secrecy?”

“No secrecy, Tom. No secrecy. The island’s there. I’m there. Everybody knows that. That’s no secret.”

“If it’s that innocent, how about letting me look it over?”

Noah scowled. “Hell, no. Why should I? Aren’t I entitled to a little privacy?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. “Damned right I am. And I intend to keep it, too.”

“Then the gossips’ll keep on whispering.”

“Let ’em whisper.”

“Then you’re saying you don’t know anything about these disappearances?”

Noah frowned. “You may hate me—and I suspect you do—but do you really believe I’d have something to do with people disappearing? Some kind of white slavery ring or something? Is that what you’ve got in mind?”

“It was a fair question.”

“And I gave you a fair answer.”

Noah stood up. Winced. “Damned arthritis.” He glared at Tom. “I’ve got spies everywhere, Tom. People may not like me much but they protect me. Because when they protect me, they protect themselves, their jobs, and this peaceable town and the future for their children. So they don’t appreciate anybody, including my own adopted son, tryin’ to snoop into the little privacy I have in life.”

“So you wouldn’t like it if I asked some more questions?”

Noah jabbed a finger at him. “I got you this job. You don’t remember that. But I did. And you know why I did? Because I figured you’d be good at it. And you are. You’re the smartest lawman we’ve ever had here. And from what I hear, you’re also fair. Even the people who don’t care for you say that. Say that you don’t play favorites. They also say you’re not mean, the way some lawmen are.”

Noah started walking to the door. “But you know what? Quick as you got that badge of yours, I could take it away. I could go over to a town council meeting and ask for a private session and then I’d lay out some charges against you—tell them that I hated to do this, you being my stepson and all—and you know what? You’d be out of a job within an hour. They’d find some law on the books that made you ineligible to be sheriff anymore. And you’d be out on your ass.”

“I take it that’s a threat?”

A look of frustration twisted Noah’s face. “All I’m saying, boy, is that you’re doing a good job. Most people like you. You could have a great future. But just let this island thing go. Forget about it. There’s sure a hell of a lot of other work to do, isn’t there? You can just quit wasting your time on rumors. Because there’s nothing to them.” He opened the door. It seemed impossible. The office got even hotter in the few seconds the scorching, dusty wind blew in. A look of reason on his face now. “There’s not one damned thing to those rumors, son. Not one damned thing.”

Noah left.

And now Tom knew for sure that something terrible was going on out there on Skeleton Key. Otherwise the old man wouldn’t have made such a fuss about it.

 

Liz took down the dagger that had been her husband’s pride. The blade was five inches long, the hilt burnished cooper with a cross carved on the handle. They’d bought it in St. Louis soon after they were married. It was said to have been blessed by the Pope in Italy, where it was crafted. Because of the blessing, the shopkeeper explained, no harm would come to anybody who carried it.

Richard always took it along when he knew that a situation was going to be risky. It had kept him safe. But the night he’d been killed, he’d had no reason to take it along. While he was looking into Skeleton Key, at that particular time he was just doing his regular work. No reason to think he’d be ambushed.

She pressed the dagger to her breast now, in sweet memory of her husband. Tom was so much like him. She was blessed that she’d found two such men in her life.

Now that she was home for the day, she began preparing for tonight. She’d wear brown butternuts and a black shirt. She’d cinch her hair back so that it wouldn’t get in the way. And she’d carry a handgun—and the dagger with the special blessing.

Even on Skeleton Key, the dagger would keep her alive. She was sure of it.

 

 

Fargo said, “Any caves on this island?”

“Two or three,” Nancy said. “But they aren’t very big. We thought of that, too. But the dogs would find us right away and kill us.”

Fargo smoked his cigarette. Aiming the smoke in a narrow stream at the rough hewn roof of the log cabin. “You ever notice any place in the forest where water backed up in a real small area?”

“Can’t think of any place offhand. Why?”

“Sometimes islands have underground passages that lead to the water. I got trapped in a place like this once before. This Apache I was with got us free that way.”

“I wish I could think of something like that.”

“And you never heard of any way of tricking those dogs?”

“Are you kidding? They couldn’t be tricked by anybody. They want to kill people. That’s all they think about. Even when they’re sort of lazing in their dog runs, the way they watch you—” She shook her head. “They’re the scariest things I’ve ever run up against, Fargo.”

Fargo was quiet for a time. She was probably right. Even if the dogs weren’t invincible, a man couldn’t outrun them. About all he could do was shoot them, which was hard to do if you didn’t have a gun.

The underground stream had been one idea. What were others? He wondered. He closed his eyes. Tried to picture the glimpse of the forest he’d gotten on his way in here.

He studied the mental picture carefully. The dock was out. So was any shoreline. And Nancy had ruled out caves as a place to hole up and avoid getting killed. If a man got lucky, he might be able to find the right kind of rock to crush a dog’s head with. The trouble with that was, even if you managed to ultimately kill the dog, the toll on the man would be considerable. Might lose an arm or a leg. He might kill the dog—and get himself killed in the process.

That left one possibility: the trees. There might be a way that you could find trees strong enough that you could cross them, one to another, at their very tops. It would take time, skill, and most of all luck. But right away you’d eliminate the danger of the dogs. And Noah and Burgade would have a hell of a time shooting you if you were up high enough and constantly moving among heavily leafed branches.