Stagecoach Sidewinders by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

15

Hitch slid one foot forward and then the other, as intent as a rattlesnake on prey it was about to strike.

Fargo backed away. With his hurt leg he couldn’t move as quickly as he would like. Hitch, with his strange Japanese style of fighting, had an edge. Hell, even if his leg wasn’t hurt, Hitch still had an edge.

They’d taken his Colt and his knife. But they hadn’t taken his belt. Quickly, he unbuckled it and pulled it free. His gun belt would hold his pants up.

Hitch stopped. “What are you doing?”

Fargo gripped the belt so that the big buckle hung down near his knee and wrapped the other end around his hand several times. Gripping it tightly, he swung the belt over his head and then held it at his side.

“You’re joking.”

Fargo smiled.

“You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

“Prove it,” Fargo said.

Hitch assumed a stance and slid his legs forward, his hands poised to slash or thrust.

Fargo flicked his belt at the killer’s face.

Hitch blocked it. The buckle struck the back of his hand and Hitch winced and stepped back. He looked at the drops of blood, betraying surprise.

“I’ll take out an eye next,” Fargo said.

Hitch dropped into a wide crouch. “You are resourceful, I will give you that. And you have uncommon luck. But your luck has run out and your pitiful excuse for a weapon will not save you.”

“Prove it,” Fargo said again.

Hitch sprang and Fargo swung. The heavy buckle sizzled the air and caught Hitch across the arm. Hitch tried to grab it but Fargo yanked and swung again, this time at Hitch’s leg.

The crack of the buckle striking Hitch’s knee was like the crack of a gunshot. Fargo sidestepped, keeping the belt in motion and not letting Hitch get closer.

Hitch was in pain. He was trying not to show it but the set of his jaw gave him away.

“Pitiful, huh?” Fargo taunted.

Hitch charged and Fargo retreated, swinging as he went. He had to be careful of the oaks. He swung at Hitch’s face and Hitch raised his forearms to protect his eyes.

Fargo swung faster and harder, raining blow after blow. Hitch grabbed at the belt and in doing so exposed a cheek. Fargo lashed and backpedaled.

Hitch touched his cheek and stared at the blood on his fingertips. “I have underestimated you badly.”

Fargo had another trick up his sleeve, and he used it now. He took a step back and gave a low cry and dropped to give the impression his wounded leg had buckled on him. He came down on his good knee and put his left hand on the ground as if to brace himself and dug his fingers into the soil.

“Your body betrays you.”

Fargo pretended to be in too much pain to reply.

“Time to end this,” Hitch said, and flew at him in a long bound.

Fargo was ready. He threw the dirt at Hitch’s face and Hitch instinctively raised his hands and Fargo lashed the belt at Hitch’s legs. It wrapped around Hitch’s ankle. Fargo pulled, sweeping Hitch’s leg out from under him.

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