High Plains Massacre by Jon Sharpe Page B

fingers, Grevy plucked the knife from its sheath and let it fall to the grass.
    â€œThere. Do you feel safer?”
    Fargo bobbed his chin at the bend. “Walk ahead of me. Any tricks and I’ll put one in your spine.”
    â€œThere are tricks and there are tricks,” Grevy said. “But here and now I will behave.”
    Fargo didn’t know what to make of him. But he wanted Wright and especially the troopers to see him with their own eyes.
    It was Bear River Tom who spotted them first and gave a holler that brought the soldiers on the run.
    â€œWhat do we have here?” Lieutenant Wright said.
    â€œThe spook,” Fargo replied.
    The troopers exchanged glances and Private Davenport said, “He’s behind all the goings-on?”
    â€œHim and his friends,” Fargo guessed.
    Jacques Grevy gave a slight bow. “You are most astute,
monsieur
.”
    â€œYou admit it?” Lieutenant Wright said. Stepping up, he grabbed the front of the small man’s shirt. “Where’s Private Benjamin? What have your people done with him?”
    â€œWhat people, sir?” Private Davenport asked.
    It was Grevy who answered. “Your kind calls us breeds, boy. Or half-breeds. They always say it with a sneer to show they disapprove. If they could, they would do to us as they have done to so many of the Indians who sometimes sire us, and wipe us out.”
    â€œYou don’t look like no breed to me, mister,” Private Arvil said.
    â€œThat is because I take more after my father than my mother, who was Cree. But I assure you my blood is as much red as white.”
    â€œWhere’s Private Benjamin?” Lieutenant Wright again demanded.
    â€œWhere he should be,” Grevy said.
    Wright poked him in the chest. “I’m warning you. You’ll tell us, one way or another.”
    â€œWill you torture me, perhaps?” Grevy asked in amusement.
    â€œI just might,” Lieutenant Wright said.
    Grevy shook his head and laughed. “We both know it is against the rules you live by. You can bluster but you can’t do the deed.”
    â€œHow about me?” Fargo asked. “Can I do the deed?”
    A hint of concern creased Grevy’s scarred face. “You, yes. You have a hardness in you. You are a killer, like me.”
    â€œI’m nothing like you,” Fargo said.
    â€œPermit me to disagree. And grant me the respect I grant you. Yes, you would torture me. But I very much doubt I would say more than you would.”
    Fargo believed him.
    Wright asked, “Where do you want to keep him until we get to the bottom of this?”
    â€œIn a cabin, bound hand and foot,” Fargo said.
    Wright was studying Grevy. “You know, his friends out there might be willing to swap him for Private Benjamin.”
    â€œI am not so important, I am afraid,” Grevy said.
    â€œYou better hope you are, for your sake,” Lieutenant Wright said. He ordered Davenport and Arvil to take the prisoner to a cabin and tie him.
    â€œSend four of them,” Fargo said.
    â€œThat many for one man? And a runt at that?”
    â€œWolverines are smaller than bears,” Fargo said.
    â€œ
Oui
,” Grevy said, and flattered himself by adding, “It is not the size but the fierceness,
vous comprenez
?”
    â€œI don’t speak French,” Lieutenant Wright said, “and you don’t look all that fierce to me.” He turned to two of the troopers. “Private Thomas and Private Reese, go along and cover him while Davenport and Arvil bind him.”
    Jacques Grevy gave a little bow to Fargo. “We will see each other again, you and I. We have unfinished business.”
    â€œDon’t trip over your swelled head,” Fargo said.
    Lieutenant Wright turned to follow them. “Congratulations on catching him.”
    â€œI’m not sure who caught who,” Fargo said. “He’s up to something.”
    Bear River Tom had