Texas Tornado by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe [Sharpe, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Westerns
ISBN: 9780451417572
Google: s4rGLgEACAAJ
Amazon: 0451417577
Barnesnoble: 0451417577
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

14

The shot came from off to the east, which puzzled Fargo. He wondered if it was the posse. Maybe signaling. But to whom? Rising, he began to put himself back together.

“Who could that be?” Carmody asked, imitating him.

“Just about anyone.”

They climbed on their mounts and moved to the road. In both directions it was empty.

“I don’t see anyone,” Carmody said. “Let’s keep going. The last thing I want is for Marshal Mako to get his hands on me again.”

Fargo recollected the incident he’d witnessed through the window. “How did he treat you?”

“Most of the time he was decent enough. But now and then I’d catch him looking at me as if . . .” Carmody stopped.

“As if what?”

“I don’t rightly know.” She shrugged. “As if he had something in mind I’d rather not think about.”

“You don’t mean—?”

“I told you. I don’t know. Probably not. One time a male prisoner tried to grope me, and Mako broke both his hands.”

“Tough hombre,” Fargo said.

“Dangerous hombre,” Carmody amended. “You can see it in his eyes. He’s vicious when he wants to be. But he has respect for the law.”

“Horatio Stoddard’s law.”

“I mentioned that to Mako once. I said it’s not right to say who can and can’t make love, and how much people can gamble, and things like that.”

“What did he say?”

“He agreed, if you can believe it. He stood there and flat out said some of the town’s laws are stupid. But it’s his job to enforce them anyway.”

“He’s not out to fleece folks?”

“Not him. The mayor, yes. Stoddard imposes fines that go into his bank account and gets all that free labor to work at his ranch.”

She would have gone on, but just then hooves drummed. They both started and straightened.

Out of the east flew a horse. Riderless, it came at a gallop and would have swept on by if Fargo hadn’t cut it off and grabbed its trailing reins to bring it to a halt.

The horse tossed its mane and stamped but didn’t attempt to break away.

Carmody came up and was the first to notice. “Say, what’s that all over the saddle?”

Fargo bent. It was blood. A lot of it. Larger patches near the saddle horn with smaller drops behind and lower down. “Whoever was on this was gut-shot.”

“How can you tell?”

“The pattern,” Fargo said. “I’ve seen it before.” He’d been in plenty of skirmishes with hostiles and seen a lot of troopers wounded by lead, arrows, and lances. Turning in the saddle, he peered east. “I’m going back.”

“What?” Carmody’s eyes widened. “We’re in the clear. We should push on.”

“I want to know who was shot.”

“Who cares, damn it?” Carmody said. “Besides, what about your precious rifle? We have to go after Alice, remember, and she went west.”

“Did she?” Fargo said. “I wonder.” He scanned the dirt road to the west. Puzzled, he dismounted and searched on foot. “I’ll be damned.”

“What now?”

“There aren’t any fresh tracks. She didn’t go west, after all.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“Not about tracks.” If there was one thing Fargo did better than just about anyone, it was read sign.

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