Read Online Texas Tornado by Jon Sharpe - Free Book Online Page B

star long enough, I can feel it in my bones when someone is trouble. And you’re as much trouble as they come.”
    â€œWhy, you sweet-talking devil, you.”
    Mako let that pass and said, “Which is why I’m taking extra precautions. Those cuffs stay on, so get used to them. And I’ll make it plain to my deputies that if you give them any guff, I won’t mind a bit if they kick your teeth down your throat.”
    â€œSo much for the sweet talk.”
    â€œI don’t like your kind,” Marshal Mako said coldly. “Not even a little bit.”
    â€œWhat kind is that? Scouts?”
    â€œIt’s not what you do. It’s you. You’re one of those who thinks he can do as he damn well pleases, and the rest of the world be damned.”
    â€œLast I heard,” Fargo said, “this is a free country.”
    â€œA country with laws. Laws that you reckon aren’t good enough for you to follow.”
    â€œWhen the law says a man can’t spit without being arrested,” Fargo said, “that’s a pretty damn dumb law.”
    â€œYou just made my point. It’s not what a law says. It’s the fact that it’s a law. I’m paid to make sure folks abide by them, whether they want to abide by them or not.”
    â€œThat mayor and you make a good pair,” Fargo said. “It’s too bad you don’t have your own country to run.”
    â€œThis town will do,” Mako said. “And before I forget, a word to the wise. If you try to escape, we’ll shoot you dead. Army or no army.”
    â€œEscape is the furthest thing from my mind.”
    â€œLike hell.”
    On that note Fargo was shoved back into his cell and the door clanged shut once again.
    Over the next couple of days he paid close attention to their routine.
    Mako was only there during the day. At night the deputies worked shifts. Brock had the first, Gergan the second, Clyde the last. Each morning the prisoners were roused and herded into the prison wagon for another day’s work.
    Twice a day they brought Fargo food. They always slid the plate through a wide slot in the bars rather than open the door.
    All in all, it was a well-run jail.
    But there was a weak spot.
    The third night, Gergan propped his boots on the desk, folded his arms and pulled his hat low, and dozed off.
    Hiking his pant leg, Fargo palmed the Arkansas toothpick. They had made light of his buckskins, but buckskins had one thing city-bought clothes didn’t: whangs. His were six inches long on his shirt. He cut ten of them off, replaced the knife in his boot, and tied the whangs together, end to end.
    Moving to the bars, he crouched. He fashioned a loop and positioned it on the floor directly under the food slot. Drawing the end inside, he tied it to the bottom of a bar.
    Returning to the bunk, he lay with his back to the room.
    Deputy Clyde showed up to relieve Gergan. No sooner was Gergan out the door than Clyde sat down at the desk and propped his boots as Gergan had done.
    Fargo got up and went close to the bars. But not too close. “Deputy,” he called out.
    Clyde raised his head. “What do
you
want?” he asked suspiciously.
    â€œSome water,” Fargo said. “My throat’s dry.”
    â€œTough.”
    â€œOne glass,” Fargo said, “and you can take your usual nap.”
    â€œI’ll take it anyway. And you can wait until breakfast.”
    â€œWould you do it for a dollar?”
    â€œNice try,” Clyde said, “but the marshal took your poke.”
    â€œI had a loose dollar in my pocket,” Fargo said.
    Clyde showed interest. Deputies didn’t make a lot of money. “I give you the glass, you shut the hell up and let me sleep?”
    â€œThat’s the deal.”
    Reluctantly Clyde stood and went to the water pitcher. He filled a glass and brought it over, his other hand on his six-gun. “No tricks.”
    â€œAll I want is a