the Iron Marshall (1979) Read Online Free
Author: Louis L'amour
should be ashamed. It was a swindle. All of them should be ashamed; Ah, if their old mithers but knew of it!"
"But Mr. Lochlin lost money, too!" Shanaghy protested. McCarthy spat. "If you believe that, you're more innocent than I believed. Did you see any of Lochlin's money? Did anybody?"
"Gallagher was holding the bets. He said-"
"Aye, Gallagher! One of the same lot! Believe me, lad, Lochlin was the come-on, he was the pusher. Lochlin talked a good bet but he was in it up to his ears. And as for Morrissey, he was the brains of the lot-and seemed to be out of it all so he'd not be suspected. Old Smoke is a shrewd man, lad, and don't you forget it. Running for the state Senate, he is, and he'll be elected, too. You fight shy of that lot, lad, or you'll end in jail!" Morrissey had given him five hundred dollars for tipping them off to a good thing and riding the horse. It was more money, Shanaghy reflected, than his poor pa had seen in his lifetime. With it, Shanaghy bought some new clothes and a better place to live. He put three hundred of it into a bank McCarthy suggested. He had ridden the Maid in three more races before he grew too heavy for riding. By the time he was sixteen he was five feet nine inches, as tall as he was ever to be, and he weighed an easy hundred and sixty but looked lighter. Sometimes he sparred with Old Smoke himself, but the iron-fisted Irishman was rough, with both height and reach on Shanaghy, who learned to ride and slip punches, to bob and weave and move in and away.
Although a middleweight in size, he had the shoulders and punching power of a heavyweight, and several times they rang him in on unsuspecting country fighters larger than he.
Of Bob Childers or his family he saw nothing more until several months later when, emerging from the Five Points, he came upon a man who looked like Bob Childers's son standing on a corner with two other men. "There's one of them now," one of the men said, pointing at Tom. "He rode the horse."
The burly young man who resembled Childers called out to him. "You! Come here!" Shanaghy paused. He knew he should keep going, but something in the young man's tone irritated him. "You want to see me," he said, "come to where I am." "I'll come, an' be damned to y'!"
Shanaghy was convinced this was Bob Childers's son. He was a powerful young man, yet too heavy. Shanaghy stood waiting, watching the other two men as well. When the young man was almost to him he saw the others start, and he knew it would be not the one but all three he must fight. The first one stepped up on the curb. "You're one o' that pack o' thieves," he said, "and I'm going to teach you!" "Your pa bought himself a horse race and he lost," Shanaghy said to the young man. "That's all. He asked for it with his loud mouth." "Loud mouth, is it?" The young man lifted a ponderous fist threateningly. "I'll teach ... "
If you are going to fight, Shanaghy had learned long since, don't waste time talking. As young Childers stepped up on the curb, Shanaghy went quickly to meet him. He smashed a left to Childers's mouth; then swung a right into his belly. The punch caught Childers moving in and was totally unexpected. A strong young man, Childers knew little of fighting and always had much to say before he swung a fist. This time he never said it. His wind left him with an oof and he staggered and fell back into a sitting position. Shanaghy wheeled and dove into the space between two buildings, ran their length and, turning sharply, mounted the stairs to the upper story.
This was an area he knew well. Emerging on the rooftop, he ran along the roofs, jumping the walls that divided one from the other. Soon he was blocks away. Coming down from the final rooftop, he went to his room. A few days later he saw John Morrissey. "Aye," John said, "we bought ourselves a packet, lad. Bob's a beefhead himself, but some of the money was from his brother, Eben, and that's another thing. Eben Childers is uncommon shrewd, and a
"But Mr. Lochlin lost money, too!" Shanaghy protested. McCarthy spat. "If you believe that, you're more innocent than I believed. Did you see any of Lochlin's money? Did anybody?"
"Gallagher was holding the bets. He said-"
"Aye, Gallagher! One of the same lot! Believe me, lad, Lochlin was the come-on, he was the pusher. Lochlin talked a good bet but he was in it up to his ears. And as for Morrissey, he was the brains of the lot-and seemed to be out of it all so he'd not be suspected. Old Smoke is a shrewd man, lad, and don't you forget it. Running for the state Senate, he is, and he'll be elected, too. You fight shy of that lot, lad, or you'll end in jail!" Morrissey had given him five hundred dollars for tipping them off to a good thing and riding the horse. It was more money, Shanaghy reflected, than his poor pa had seen in his lifetime. With it, Shanaghy bought some new clothes and a better place to live. He put three hundred of it into a bank McCarthy suggested. He had ridden the Maid in three more races before he grew too heavy for riding. By the time he was sixteen he was five feet nine inches, as tall as he was ever to be, and he weighed an easy hundred and sixty but looked lighter. Sometimes he sparred with Old Smoke himself, but the iron-fisted Irishman was rough, with both height and reach on Shanaghy, who learned to ride and slip punches, to bob and weave and move in and away.
Although a middleweight in size, he had the shoulders and punching power of a heavyweight, and several times they rang him in on unsuspecting country fighters larger than he.
Of Bob Childers or his family he saw nothing more until several months later when, emerging from the Five Points, he came upon a man who looked like Bob Childers's son standing on a corner with two other men. "There's one of them now," one of the men said, pointing at Tom. "He rode the horse."
The burly young man who resembled Childers called out to him. "You! Come here!" Shanaghy paused. He knew he should keep going, but something in the young man's tone irritated him. "You want to see me," he said, "come to where I am." "I'll come, an' be damned to y'!"
Shanaghy was convinced this was Bob Childers's son. He was a powerful young man, yet too heavy. Shanaghy stood waiting, watching the other two men as well. When the young man was almost to him he saw the others start, and he knew it would be not the one but all three he must fight. The first one stepped up on the curb. "You're one o' that pack o' thieves," he said, "and I'm going to teach you!" "Your pa bought himself a horse race and he lost," Shanaghy said to the young man. "That's all. He asked for it with his loud mouth." "Loud mouth, is it?" The young man lifted a ponderous fist threateningly. "I'll teach ... "
If you are going to fight, Shanaghy had learned long since, don't waste time talking. As young Childers stepped up on the curb, Shanaghy went quickly to meet him. He smashed a left to Childers's mouth; then swung a right into his belly. The punch caught Childers moving in and was totally unexpected. A strong young man, Childers knew little of fighting and always had much to say before he swung a fist. This time he never said it. His wind left him with an oof and he staggered and fell back into a sitting position. Shanaghy wheeled and dove into the space between two buildings, ran their length and, turning sharply, mounted the stairs to the upper story.
This was an area he knew well. Emerging on the rooftop, he ran along the roofs, jumping the walls that divided one from the other. Soon he was blocks away. Coming down from the final rooftop, he went to his room. A few days later he saw John Morrissey. "Aye," John said, "we bought ourselves a packet, lad. Bob's a beefhead himself, but some of the money was from his brother, Eben, and that's another thing. Eben Childers is uncommon shrewd, and a
Readers choose
Tori Brooks
Carolyn Brown
Jenna Howard
Elizabeth Sinclair
Brandi Kennedy
Eva Gates
Joan Hess
Thomas H. Cook
Vanessa Waltz
Chautona Havig