Ambush Valley by William W. Johnstone

Ambush Valley by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-07-20T05:00:00+00:00

Frank saw a dark hole gaping in the caliche hillside like an open mouth waiting to swallow him.

“I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast,” he protested as they shoved him toward the open door of the Dark Cell.

“Should’ve thought of that before you started a fight and spit in the warden’s face, you stupid bastard,” one of the guards grated.

They practically threw him inside the hole in the hill. He tripped, stumbled, and lost his footing. The cell was only about five feet deep, so he hit his shoulder against the rear wall when he fell. He landed in a huddled heap on the stone floor and twisted around toward the door just in time to see it swinging shut. It closed with a slam of finality, cutting off all light in the windowless cell. Frank wondered how air got in here. There had to be some tiny cracks here and there, enough to let some air in so prisoners wouldn’t suffocate, but not enough to admit any discernible light. Or maybe there was some sort of chimney arrangement in the roof that blocked the light but let air in. He hadn’t had time to get a good look before he was tossed in here.

Not that it mattered. A thick bar dropped across brack ets on either side of the door outside the cell, sealing him in here good and proper. He wouldn’t be going anywhere until someone let him out. That would be forty-eight hours if Warden Townsend stuck to the original punish ment he had decreed. Frank hoped that he would. Townsend couldn’t afford to make it look like he was taking it easy on this troublemaking new prisoner “Fred Morton.” Not if they wanted the plan to work.

The cell was too small for Frank to stretch out. He sat with his back propped against the wall instead and put a hand to his jaw, working it back and forth. The guard’s punch hadn’t done any real damage, but it hurt. That didn’t matter much, either, because he wouldn’t be eating anything for a couple of days. By then some of the bruises would have healed.

“Conrad,” Frank said in a voice so low that only he could hear it, “I sure as hell hope that you appreciate all this.”


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