Thunderhead Trail Read Free Page A

window. “Will this do, you—” He caught himself before he finished.
    Rafer Crown twirled the Remington into his holster as slick as could be. “Stay over there and behave.” He looked at Fargo. “The dumb one is all yours.”
    Dirk Peters pointed at a couple of townsmen. “You two, scoot over and put their weapons on the bar.”
    â€œWhy us?” one of them replied.
    â€œBecause I said so.”
    Reluctantly, the pair edged forward. They were scared to death of Grizz, and when they snatched his revolver and bowie, moved quickly to one side to get out of his reach.
    Fargo stepped around a table and a chair and planted himself. “You hit that girl for not sitting in your lap?”
    Grizz still seemed confused. He was slow to digest what was going on, and he made no move to defend himself. “That was part of it.”
    â€œWhat was the other part?”
    â€œI hankered after a kiss and she wouldn’t give me one.”
    â€œSo you beat her and ripped her clothes off?”
    â€œI only hit her once,” Grizz said. “That’s all it ever takes.” He bunched his huge fists. “You’re thinkin’ you should punish me, is that it? That if you hurt me it’ll teach me to be nicer?”
    â€œI doubt you know what nice is.”
    â€œMy pa used to think like you. When I was little, he’d take me out to the woodshed when I acted up. And I acted up a lot. But do you know what?”
    Fargo didn’t respond.
    â€œIt didn’t change me none. And when I was big enough, I took that stick from him and broke it in half and beat him with it.”
    Fargo began to suspect that the hulking brute wasn’t quite as dumb as he appeared.
    â€œMy ma used to say they had a word for me. Vicious, it was. She called me the most vicious boy who was ever born.”
    Grizz chuckled. “I broke her nose the last time she called me that.”
    â€œYour own parents,” Dirk Peters said.
    Grizz ignored him and glowered at Fargo. “What I did to that bitch in the street is nothin’ to what I’m goin’ to do to you. I’ll break your bones and have you spittin’ teeth.”
    In the back of Fargo’s mind a tiny voice asked why he was doing this. They were right. He didn’t know the girl. He had no personal stake, as Rafer Crown put it. But he never had been able to look the other way when an innocent was mistreated. It always stirred an anger in him.
    That, and he had a vicious streak of his own. There were few things he liked more than to dose out a taste of their own medicine to sons of bitches like this Grizz.
    â€œNothin’ to say? Cat got your tongue? Or is it you’re afraid?”
    â€œOf you?” Fargo snorted.
    â€œAny last words?” Grizz asked.
    â€œIs there a sawbones in this town?”
    â€œNot that I know of,” Grizz said. “Why?”
    â€œYou’re going to need one.”

5
    Grizz lumbered toward Fargo, saying, “Do you know why they call me Grizz?”
    â€œIt’s a common name for lumps of stupid,” Fargo said.
    And then there was no more talking.
    Grizz waded in, his knobby fists raised in an awkward boxing stance. He flung an overhand that Fargo easily ducked. Quickly, Fargo retaliated with two jolts to the ribs that would have knocked other men onto their toes. All Grizz did was grunt.
    Fargo sideslipped a jab and rammed a solid right to Grizz’s jaw. Grizz’s head barely moved an inch. A huge fist drove at Fargo’s face and he got his left up to block it. Even so, the force of the blow sent him back on his bootheels and sent pain flaring down his arm to his toes.
    Fargo realized this wasn’t going to be a short fight.
    Grizz was as strong as the proverbial ox. So what if Grizz possessed little skill. His enormous strength made up for it.
    The wisest tactic for Fargo to adopt was to wear Grizz down. He slammed a straight-arm to