Death Devil (9781101559666) Read Online Free Page B

orchard at a trot. One was huge and wore overalls and a floppy hat. The other was rail thin.
    â€œWhy, look who it is,” Dogood said. “Providence has intervened in your behalf, Harold.”
    The farmer’s face mirrored delight. “Now we’ll see who tells who what, by God.”
    Fargo didn’t like the sound of that. He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and shifted to one side so he could watch the approaching riders and keep an eye on McWhertle and Dogood.
    â€œIf I were you, mister,” Harold said, “I’d climb on that pinto and light a shuck.”
    â€œAnd quickly,” Dogood encouraged him.
    â€œI’ll leave when the doc does.”
    The riders were almost there. The huge one had a moon face, a sloping forehead, and beetling brows. The thin rail had a nose that hooked like a bird’s beak and a chin that curled up at the end. They came to a stop in puffs of dust and the huge man leaned on his saddle horn.
    â€œHowdy, cousin Harold. I came to borrow those shears we talked about last Sunday at church.”
    â€œCousin Orville,” Harold replied. “Cousin Artemis,” he said to the skinny one. “Am I glad to see you two.” He gestured at Fargo. “This gent, here, pulled his gun on me.”
    Orville sat up. “He did what, now, cousin?”
    â€œMy Abigail is sick and my wife sent for that female sawbones. I forbade her to step foot in my house but this feller skinned his smoke wagon and made me step aside.”
    â€œDid he, now?” Orville dismounted and strode up to Fargo, towering a good foot and a half over him. “Mister, you just bought yourself a heap of trouble.”

4
    Artemis had alighted, too. He sidled to the left with a hand behind his back.
    â€œI’d be obliged if you’d make him scat,” Harold said to Orville.
    â€œWhat is kin for?” Orville rumbled, and poked Fargo in the chest with a finger as thick as a railroad spike. “You heard him, mister. You got two choices. Skedaddle, or be pounded to a pulp.”
    â€œYou call that a choice?” Fargo said, and hit him. He slammed a solid uppercut to the jaw that would have toppled most men or at least set them back on their heels but all Orville did was sway and grin.
    â€œNot bad. I ain’t been hit that hard in a coon’s age. But I have a jaw like an anvil.”
    â€œHell,” Fargo said.
    â€œMy turn,” Orville said, and swung.
    Fargo ducked, slammed a fist into the farmer’s ribs, and winced. It was like hitting metal bars. Sidestepping, he dodged a jab, slipped in close, and let fly with three quick punches to Orville’s gut. All Orville did was grunt.
    â€œPound on him fierce, cousin!” Harold hollered. “He has it comin’!”
    Orville raised both fists and waded in.
    Fargo retreated. He couldn’t match the man, brute strength against brute strength, but he was quicker with his hands and on his feet. He hoped to avoid the other’s blows long enough to tire him.
    â€œFight, consarn you,” Orville said.
    Fargo skipped away to gain space to move.
    â€œYou are commencin’ to annoy me.”
    â€œWant me to help?” Artemis offered. “I’ll hold him while you beat on him.”
    â€œIt’s mine to do,” Orville said without taking his eyes off Fargo.
    Fargo thought about resorting to the Colt but as near as he could tell the farmer wasn’t armed. Iron-hard knuckles clipped his shoulder and spun him half around. Once more he backpedaled.
    â€œYou’ve got him on the run, cousin!” Harold whooped. “Give him what for.”
    Lumbering in, Orville did something Fargo didn’t expect—he kicked him. The boot caught Fargo in the thigh and he stumbled and tripped and fell on his back.
    â€œFinish him!” Harold squealed.
    Orville grinned and spread his hands. “I’m about to bust you good, mister.”
    Not if Fargo had