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flying.
    Nearly all of them gave a start. Only Roland, the hunter, who was accustomed to guns going off, and Samantha, didn’t jump or flinch.
    All eyes swung toward Fargo and the smoke curling from the end of the Colt’s barrel. “Now that I’ve got your attention,” he said, and twirled the six-shooter into his holster, “someone better tell me why in hell I’m here or I’m fanning the breeze.”
    “You have your nerve,” Tom Junior said.
    “How dare you.” From Charles.
    “I didn’t come all this way to listen to you idiots bicker.” Fargo hefted the Henry and turned toward the hall. “For some of us the sun doesn’t rise and set with you Clyborns.” He took a couple of steps and Samantha’s hand enfolded his arm.
    “Wait. Please. I’m the one who sent for you and I would like nothing better than to explain why but first I need to have words with my brothers and my sister.”
    “So long as you’re not all day at it.”
    “It will take far less time than that.” Samantha smiled and turned and her smile evaporated. “I want all of you to go to your rooms and wait for me to send for you.”
    “Who do you think you are, our mother?” Tom snapped. “We can do as we damn well please.”
    “I agree,” Charles said. “We’re adults, dear sister, not children anymore.”
    “Then act like adults. Mr. Fargo has come a long way to see me. After I’ve concluded my business with him, we’ll all get together.”
    “I don’t know why you sent for a man like him anyway,” Charles said.
    “I do,” Tom angrily declared. “Our older sister wants to trim the odds so she has a better chance.” He wheeled on a shoe heel. “Fine. Let’s humor her. By Monday morning all this will be over and none of us need ever listen to her again.”
    “Unless she wins,” Charlotte said.
    Tom swore. “Over my dead body.”
    Charles and Emmett followed them out. Roland lingered to ask, “I’m curious, Sam. What will you do if you win?”
    “Not now.”
    “Father left it up to each of us. I know what Charlotte will do. She’s too sweet to be selfish. Emmett will probably share, too. Charles, I’m not so sure. As for Tom.” Roland stopped and frowned.
    “You’ll learn my sentiments if and when I claim the prize,” Samantha informed him.
    Roland nodded at Fargo. “Bringing him in might not help you all that much. You could spend a lot of money for nothing.”
    “We’ll see, won’t we?”
    Roland left, and Samantha indicated a divan. “Have a seat, why don’t you, and I’ll explain what this is all about?”
    Fargo sank down, draped his arm across the back, and leaned the Henry against his leg. “I could use a drink.”
    Samantha turned to a pull cord in the corner and gave it a hard yank. Within seconds a maid in a long purple dress appeared and gave another of those bows.
    “Yes, ma’am?”
    “A glass of whiskey for my guest.”
    “A bottle,” Fargo amended.
    “Which brand? We have Early Times, Monumental, and Sour Mash Copper Whiskey, as I recall.”
    Fargo wasn’t particular so long as it went down smooth, but he was fond of Early Times.
    “A bottle of Early Times,” Samantha told the maid. “You may dispense with a glass.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Samantha sat opposite him and folded her hands in her lap, her posture as perfect as posture could be. “Now, then. Suppose we get down to brass tacks. Are there any questions I can answer right off?”
    Fargo was honest. He had been thinking of one thing and one thing only since he set eyes on her. “What does it take to get you under the sheets?”
    Samantha blinked and her red lips parted. “Mercy me. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. What do you take me for, sir? A common trollop?”
    “There’s nothing common about you. You’d be the queen of any bawdy house you worked at.”
    Her cheeks blazed red.
    “That body of yours is enough to give a man fits,” Fargo pressed on. “You must have a list of lovers as long as