Lone Star 03 Read Free Page B

of the prisoner’s horse. The horse leaped forward and the lariat hummed as it tightened.
    Ki whipped out the surushin, whirled it twice around his head, and launched it at Snag. The rope sang through the air, pulled taut by the lead weights at either end, and wrapped itself around Snag, securing his gun hand to his body. In one fluid movement that was a continuation of throwing the surushin, Ki reached into one of the many pockets of his leather vest, then extended his arm in a rapid whiplash motion. A razor-edged shuriken throwing-star left his hand and spun, glittering, through the air. The small, star-shaped disc sank itself into the mesquite limb where the hanging rope was drawn tight over it, severing the lariat cleanly. The prisoner dropped to the ground.
    For a moment the angry cowhands did not grasp what had happened. Then they identified Ki as the one who had thwarted them, and, as one man, spurred toward him.
    Ki covered most of the distance that separated him from Pete and Fletch while the two Lazy G hands were still gaping at the sight of their prisoner’s horse galloping away.
    Pete’s hand was sliding up to the butt of his revolver as Ki closed in. Before he had the gun started from its holster, Ki linked his own arm through the crook of Pete’s elbow. While his horse was carrying him past his adversary, Ki locked his sinewy hand on the Lazy G man’s wrist.
    Using his biceps and Pete’s own ribcage as lever and fulcrum, he brought Pete’s right arm up and away from his body, then twisted the arm up and back until, with a sharp, popping snap, the bone of Pete’s upper arm came out of its socket at the shoulder.
    Screaming with pain, Pete dropped off his horse and lay writhing on the ground. His dislocated right arm flopped in response to the jerking of his body, the arm itself now beyond any of the man’s efforts to control its movements.
    Ki’s rush had carried him beyond Fletch, who now had to turn his mount in order to bring his gun to bear. Ki yanked at the reins of his combat-wise horse. The animal planted its hooves and spun in its own length, leaving Fletch still pointing his pistol at the empty space where the Lazy G man thought Ki’s horse would have taken him.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Ki saw that Miller and Ossie had now drawn their revolvers. A quick glance behind him confirmed that he’d put himself between them and Fletch. Neither Miller nor Ossie could fire at Ki without the risk of hitting Fletch. For the moment they were forced to sit and watch, holding their useless guns.
    Ki’s mount completed its turn and he kicked the animal ahead toward Fletch. He reached his objective just as Fletch’s horse, turning in response to its rider’s frantic tugs on the reins, brought Fletch’s body squarely in line with Ki. Ki was now less than an arm’s length away. Fletch started bringing up his gun.
    Ki thrust his forearm out to stop Fletch’s arm from rising. His stiffened fingers slid along Fletch’s arm and stabbed into the Lazy G man’s diaphragm. Ki’s stone-hard fingertips smashed into Fletch’s solar plexus. The shock of the thrust carried with paralyzing force through the shallow wall of flesh between the ribs and stomach muscles, and into the complex of nerves that lay just below the breastbone.
    Fletch’s face twisted into an agonized grimace as the paralysis sped from the nerve-center and stopped him from breathing. His shoulders tensed as they arched backward, and his revolver dropped from nerveless fingers. For a moment Fletch poised in his saddle, unnaturally erect, then slumped and slid slowly to the ground, one booted foot caught in his stirrup.
    As Fletch fell, Ki rolled out of his own saddle, knowing that Ossie and Miller would have a clear shot at him, and that they would not hesitate to use their guns. They were already spurring toward the jammed-up animals when Ki left his saddle. He waited,