The Austin Job Read Online Free

The failure to produce even a salvageable crop of truck vegetables for the autumn would leave many of them starving while land owners threatened to remove tenants who couldn’t pull their weight. The young, including Starr’s little brother, joined the war effort in Europe, leaving the countryside to whither. Now Rodchenko seemed determined to provide the final spark, but he was going to get people hurt.
    Two blocks from the Grandview building and the office where Starr worked, the crowd compressed, jolting him more violently. Tensions rose in direct relation to the opulence of their surroundings as cheers morphed into angry chants. Rodchenko’s grip tightened, refusing to release his trophy and dupe, until with crushing violence a blow from behind severed them.
    Starr staggered sideways. A familiar voice joined the chanting masses as Sheriff Benjamin Lickter’s hand clutched him, helping him regain his balance. “A man should work the land he owns. A man should own the land he works!” Lickter clasped both Starr and Oleg in a bear hug, laying it on thick while whispering something into Oleg’s ear. By the time a half dozen students pried the professor free of the burly sheriff’s embrace, Lickter and Starr had distanced themselves from the heart of the mob.
    “What the hell are you thinking?” Lickter moved the two of them toward the edge of the crowd via elbow jabs and ugly looks.
    “He set me up. I fell for it.”
    “I’ll say. Damn boy, I thought politicians were supposed to do the shucking.”
    “Let’s just get out of here.” Starr said.
    “Easier said than done, boy. We got trouble.” Chanting dissolved into mayhem as the wave of protesters crashed into the bases of the nine-story Grandview and Scarborough buildings and turned violent. Lickter ducked, covering the two of them as a store window shattered. “There ain’t enough lawmen in town to settle this.”
    “What about the Rangers?”
    “They’re off chasing the Motorcycle Mexican and dealing with the border.” Of course, Starr nodded and brushed glass from his hair. He’d followed the fugitive’s status over the last week—a goat herder turned icon for the rural worker.
    “Maybe we can just ride it out.” Starr winced as gunfire punctuated his remark, a nervous deputy firing shots into the air. “Oh crap.”
    After a pregnant pause, a volley of angry yells burst from the mob, followed by a scattering of rifles and shotguns returning fire. Like a mess of cockroaches disturbed by sudden movement, the crowd spilled into every alley, door and window. Whether the majority sought refuge or revenge, it made little difference. “We gotta do something!” Starr insisted as they crouched behind a Model T parked in front of the venerable Antler Hotel.
    “ You gotta do something.” The windshield shattered, spraying them again with glass. “They’re your crowd now.” Lickter held his pistol ready.
    “Hey down there!” A woman’s voice rang out from above. “It looks like you two could use a line.”
    “Dammit, Daisy.” Lickter cursed. “Can’t you stay out of harm’s way for half a day?”
    “Not when I’m with you apparently.” The sheriff’s daughter tied the Antler Hotel’s plush, blackout curtains to the balcony railing. Lickter tripped a farmer racing past with a shotgun and snatched the weapon as the man skidded into the street. He fired the shotgun into the air while waiving his badge and gesturing upward toward the balcony.
    A nearby deputy caught his drift and worked his way toward them. Starr lunged up the curtain hand over hand as Lickter emptied the shotgun over the heads of anyone showing threat. Tossing the gun, Lickter heaved himself up the curtain ladder next. No sooner than Starr’s boots had landed on the balcony he started hoisting the curtain upward, pulling the massive sheriff with it. From his elevated vantage he saw a clump of protestors standing like statues in the middle of the street, a bemused Oleg