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human.”
    The slope they were climbing brought them to a sawtooth ridge. From the crest Fargo could gaze out over a broad valley. At the far end reared the backbone of the Sawatch Range, several of the peaks gleaming white with snow. Down the middle of the valley wound a river, visible here and there through gaps in the trees. It curved close to the bottom of the ridge.
    â€œHow very pretty!” Mabel declared. “We do not have anything nearly as grand back home.”
    â€œDo you see that smoke?” Fargo asked, pointing at gray wisps that rose toward the sky.
    â€œSkagg’s Landing?”
    Fargo nodded.
    â€œAt last!” Mabel excitedly exclaimed. “Soon I will have word of my brother.”
    It took them two hours to get there. Fargo stuck to a well-worn trail that paralleled the river. At one point Mabel inquired, with a nod, “Does this waterway have a name?”
    â€œThe Untilla River.”
    â€œI should have guessed. Is the river named after the tribe or is the tribe named after the river?”
    â€œYou ask the damnedest questions.”
    â€œHere is another. How is it the tribe hasn’t wiped out the people at Skagg’s Landing, or driven them off?”
    â€œSkagg’s Landing is the only trading post for hundreds of miles. Malachi Skagg gives them things they can’t get anywhere else so they let him and his friends stay.”
    â€œYou say his name as if you were talking about the plague.”
    â€œDo I?” Fargo shrugged. Maybe he did. He disliked Skagg. He disliked Skagg a lot. But then, he never thought highly of anyone who lorded it over others. It did not help that Skagg had the temperament of a rabid wolf and no scruples whatsoever.
    â€œI pray he knows where my brother is,” Mabel said. “I can’t wait to see Chester again.”
    Fargo was afraid she was getting her hopes up, only to have them dashed. “Remember,” he cautioned. “It has been three months since you heard from him.”
    â€œI know, I know,” Mabel said. “But when you love someone, what can you do?”
    They came to a bend in the river. Fargo shucked the Henry from the saddle scabbard and levered a round into the chamber.
    â€œIs that necessary?” Mabel asked.
    â€œWhen you poke your head in a grizzly’s den, you should be ready for anything,” Fargo said. Once around the bend, he drew rein and announced, “There it is.”
    Skagg’s Landing consisted of the trading post and a handful of cabins. A few lean-tos and tents had been erected since Fargo was there last. All were on the north side of the Untilla River, close to a long log landing built into the bank. Lashed to the dock were four canoes. Horses were tied to a hitch rail in front of the trading post.
    â€œIt looks harmless enough,” Mabel said. “I don’t see anyone out and about, though.”
    No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a man in buckskins appeared from out of a lean-to and strolled to one of the cabins. He knocked on the door and it was opened by a woman in a red dress. She said something, and he held up a coin. Smiling, she stepped aside and let him enter.
    â€œAre they doing what I think they are doing?” Mabel asked.
    â€œA while back Skagg brought several doves from Denver,” Fargo said. “At a dollar a poke they don’t make much money, and what little they do make they have to split with him.”
    â€œI have never understood women who sell their bodies. I would never sell mine, no matter how destitute I was.”
    Fargo made no reply. But he was thinking that life could be a cruel mistress, and sometimes women, and men, were forced by circumstances to do things they would not do otherwise.
    â€œWhat else can you tell me about this place?”
    â€œSkagg has men working for him,” Fargo disclosed. “The kind you would not want to meet in a dark alley.”
    â€œWill he