Beartooth Incident by Jon Sharpe Page A

don’t you?”
    “A man never gets a woman to part her legs by being shy.”
    “Is that all it would be to you? A bout of animal lust? Another poke to add to your tally?”
    “For me it would be all there is that counts in this life.” Fargo grinned. “Fine whiskey comes close.”
    Despite herself, Mary returned the grin. “You are a silver-tongued devil, I’ll give you that. But I need you to understand. It won’t be easy for me. I’ve never done anything like this in all my life.”
    “I’m not forcing you.” Fargo wanted that clear.
    “Oh, I know. I’m a fish, and you’re holding out a worm and leaving it to me to decide whether I take the bait or not.”
    “No. You’re a woman who hasn’t been with a man in a year, and I’m a man who likes women.”
    “That’s all there is? Our feelings don’t enter into it?”
    “That’s up to you.”
    Mary didn’t seem to hear him. “I mean, yes, I’m a woman. And to a woman, feelings are important. We don’t just do it. Well, maybe some women do, for money, mostly, but I’ve never done that, and I never will. I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t have it in me.”
    “All you have to say is no.”
    His voice seemed to startle her. She glanced up and then quickly looked away. “I didn’t say that. I’m only making clear how hard something like this is for someone who only ever gave herself to one man her whole life. Can you appreciate that? What it’s like for me?”
    Fargo nodded. “You’re trying to decide whether you want to let down your hair for an hour or keep bottling it up.”
    Mary was spared having to reply by Jayce, who came skipping over to announce that he had beaten his sister at dominoes.
    “That’s nice, son, but you shouldn’t gloat. Be as courteous when you win as you are when you lose.”
    “When I lose I’m grumpy.”
    Mary tousled his hair and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you keep our guest company while I fix supper? And tonight when I tuck you in, I have a special surprise.”
    “What kind of surprise?”
    Mary stood and patted his head and moved toward the counter.
    “Ever notice, Mr. Fargo, how girls talk your ears off except when you want them to say something?”
    “Learned that already, have you?” Fargo chuckled. “It’s one of the three great lessons of life.”
    “What are the other two?”
    “Always fold when the other player asks for one card and then wets himself raising.”
    “I don’t get that. What’s the other lesson?”
    “Never try to talk a dove out of her price. She’ll take it as an insult and only pretend she likes it.”
    Jayce scratched his head. “Gosh. I don’t get that one, either. Where did you learn these lessons?”
    “I learned the one about folding in St. Louis. I stayed in and lost nearly every cent I had to a full house.”
    “I don’t know what that is. And the bird?”
    “The bird?” Fargo repeated, and snorted. “No, not that kind of dove. The doves I’m talking about don’t have feathers.”
    “Naked birds? They have such a thing?”
    “Did your pa ever have a special talk with you?”
    “We had a lot of talks. About farming and hunting and fishing and the stars and how frogs are tadpoles before they’re frogs and why some caterpillars change into butterflies and how come people snore.”
    “The talk I’m thinking of was about where babies come from. Or maybe it was calves and foals.”
    Jayce brightened. “We had that talk, too. Pa sat me down one day and got all serious and said he was going to tell me how Nelly and me came into the world.”
    “What did he say?”
    “The stork brought us.”
    “Go away.”
    “What?”
    “Go play with your sister.”
    “Why? What did I do? Don’t you like storks?”
    “I want to take a nap before we eat.” Fargo was feeling tired from the long ride. He wasn’t quite himself yet.
    “Oh. Sure.” Jayce took a step, then stopped. “I miss my pa. I miss our talks. You remind me of