Thunderhead Trail Read Free Page B

Grizz’s jaw, avoided an uppercut, and delivered a punch to the gut that would have folded most men in half.
    Grizz grimaced.
    A looping left knocked Fargo’s hat off. Fargo landed good blows to Grizz’s cheek, his side, his ear.
    Red in the face with anger and frustration, Grizz roared, “Stand still!” He lunged with his arms spread wide.
    Fargo sprang aside. Or tried to. He’d forgotten about the overturned tables and chairs and his boot caught on one of the latter. He tried to wrench free but crashed onto his back on the floor.
    Grizz pounced. Grinning, he raised his leg and stomped his big boot down at Fargo’s face. Fargo rolled, twisted, kicked Grizz in the knee and in the shin, and was on his feet before Grizz set himself.
    Grizz bent and went to pick up the chair but stopped when a gun hammer clicked.
    â€œNo,” Rafer Crown said.
    Grizz glared at the bounty hunter but dropped the chair. “After I’m done with this jackrabbit, how about I pound you.”
    â€œI don’t fight with fists,” Crown said. “Only pistols.” He smiled. “And anytime you reckon you’re fast enough, I’ll splatter your brains.”
    â€œYou think you’re somethin’,” Grizz said.
    From over at the window Rance hollered, “Forget about him, damn you, and take care of the scout.”
    Grizz turned. He raised his fists higher and hunched his thick shoulders and advanced.
    Fargo unleashed everything he had. Jabs, uppercuts, rights, lefts, from the sides, from the front. Never still, always hitting. Grizz threw one punch to ten of his. But it was like beating on an adobe wall. It had no effect other than to make Grizz madder.
    Fargo was growing winded. Instead of wearing Grizz down, he was wearing himself down. He backed off to gain a breather and those animal eyes of Grizz’s glittered. Grizz knew.
    â€œYou’re not so much,” Grizz said.
    The hell of it was, so far Fargo hadn’t been. He set himself and for a minute they swapped blows and blocks and then he had to step back again.
    â€œWon’t be long now,” Grizz crowed.
    Fargo had to find a weakness, and quick. He decided to pick one spot and concentrate on that. The ribs wouldn’t do. They were like iron bars. Grizz’s gut wasn’t much softer. Grizz’s legs were redwoods. That left from the neck up.
    Darting in, Fargo threw all he had in a swing to Grizz’s jaw. It didn’t have much more effect than the last one. Ducking, Fargo connected with another and then a third.
    Now it was Grizz who stepped back. He shook his head and moved his jaw back and forth. “What are you tryin’ to do?” he growled. “Break it?”
    â€œYes,” Fargo said. He feinted, and when Grizz brought both hams in front of his face to protect it, Fargo tromped on Grizz’s toes with his boot.
    Grizz bellowed and lowered his hands.
    Instantly, Fargo let loose with an uppercut. It caught Grizz flush under the jaw and rocked his head back. Grizz took an unsteady step back, the first weakness he’d shown.
    Fargo went after him, Grizz’s jaw his target. He was clipped on the shoulder but drove in three jabs to the chin. Despite Grizz’s matting of heavy beard, each one jarred him.
    The saloon was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.
    Fargo glimpsed Rance and Kyler out of the corner of his eye. Rance looked worried.
    The townsfolk were gawking in fascination. Fisticuffs were rare. West of the Mississippi, most disagreements were settled with gun smoke.
    Grizz shook himself again, and now his eyes were pits of rage. With an inarticulate cry, he hurled himself at Fargo, his arms flung as wide as they would go.
    Fargo retreated, collided with a table, and was brought to a stop.
    The next moment Grizz had him.

6
    It was like being caught in a giant vise.
    Steel bands wrapped around Fargo’s arms, pinning them. He struggled as Grizz lifted him