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of his he used on you.” Doucet glanced down. “ Mon Dieu . That I should be so endowed.”
    Fargo had stayed silent long enough. To keep the Cajun’s tongue wagging he revealed, “The gent who sent for me is called Namo Heuse. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”
    Doucet’s brow puckered. “Namo? Oui . I know him well. But what would he want with an outsider?”
    “He sent me a letter by way of the army. I work for them at times. I scout. I track. The letter doesn’t say exactly why he wanted me to come. Only that he needs my help to avenge the death of someone he loved.”
    Liana sat up on the bed. “ Je comprends . You know about Namo’s wife, Doucet. I think Namo wants him to track the thing that killed Emmeline.”
    Doucet glared at her. “I told you to be quiet, remember?” To Fargo he said, “Namo is a good man but he’s a fool. This isn’t the prairie. The swamp and bayous are mostly water and nothing leaves tracks in water.”
    Fargo shrugged. “I reckon he figures I can help him.”
    “He will be disappointed, then, that I had to kill you for the sake of my honor.”
    “No!” Liana cried. “Think, Doucet. For once in your life don’t let your temper get the better of you. Think of how many people have gone missing. Think of how many the monster has killed. And it will go on killing unless it’s stopped.” She slid to the edge of the bed. “Perhaps you are right and this man can’t help us. But what if he can? What if he can put a stop to the killings? Think of all the lives that will be saved. Cajun lives.”
    Doucet didn’t say anything.
    “You speak of your honor. But it was you who started this. No one will think highly of you for murdering him. But they will think highly of you if you spare him. You have him at your mercy. But let him live for the good of our people. Show that you have true honor.”
    Lowering the Colt, Doucet gnawed on his lower lip.
    “Spare him, and I won’t hold this against you,” Liana went on trying to persuade him. “You and I will still be friends. You will still be welcome here.”
    “I don’t know,” Doucet said uncertainly. “You might forgive me but he certainly won’t.”
    “How about that, Skye?” Liana asked. “He hasn’t harmed you. Are you willing to let bygones be bygones?”
    Fargo didn’t see where he had much of a choice. “How do I know I won’t end up with his blade in my back?”
    “Doucet isn’t a coward,” Liana said. “When he kills you, he will be facing you.”
    Doucet looked at her and the suggestion of a smile curled his lips. “I thank you for that. And I have given it thought. You are right. Our people must come first.” He backed to the doorway and when he reached it he set the Colt on the floor. “I spare you, outsider. But hear this. Watch what you say and what you do. Insult me or my people again and I will not forgive. Comprenez-vous? ” He didn’t wait for an answer but wheeled and was gone.
    “Well,” Fargo said, lowering his arms. “That didn’t end like I thought it would.”
    Liana sank back in relief on the pillows. “You don’t know how close you came.”
    “Oh, I think I do,” Fargo said. Hiking his pants so he could walk, he sat next to her. “I have you to thank.”
    A playful twinkle came into her eyes. “And how will you go about thanking me, monsieur?”
    Fargo grinned and reached for her.

5
    Fargo never did like being stared at, and by five o’clock the next day he’d had a bellyful.
    The tavern filled up by noon. So many Cajuns, they were shoulder to shoulder and wall to wall. So many men, they were three and four deep at the bar and every table was filled. All there because of him.
    Word had spread rapidly. The swamp grapevine, Liana called it. News that an outsider had arrived at the tavern, and that he was there to meet one of their own. The outsider was a famous scout, the rumor went, a tracker whose skills were often called on by the army. And he had come to the Atchafalaya Swamp