Death Devil (9781101559666) by Jon Sharpe Page B

nails raked his cheek.
    â€œDamn it,” Fargo said again. The longer they struggled, the more the risk of his being bitten. He had to end it. He cocked his fist but he couldn’t bring himself to hit her.
    It was stupid but there it was.
    Abigail twisted violently. She craned her neck and slashed with her teeth.
    Fargo felt a sting. She’d broken the skin on a knuckle and it was bleeding. She went to bite him again and he threw her to the ground. He didn’t mean to hurt her, not severely, and was surprised when she went limp.
    â€œAbigail?” Fargo said, suspecting a trick. He nudged her with his boot but she didn’t react. Bending, he gripped her by the arm and pulled. Again, nothing. With great care he gripped her shoulders and raised her partway, and saw the rock. It was melon sized, the part he could see that wasn’t buried. When he flung her, she’d hit her head, and the rock was spattered with scarlet.
    â€œHell.” Fargo bent to examine her, and caught himself. Going to the Ovaro, he got his rope. It took some doing to cut some off even though his Arkansas toothpick was razor sharp. He tied her wrists behind her back and then tied her ankles. He also removed his bandanna and gagged her. Only then did he examine the wound. She had a gash but it didn’t appear to be life threatening. Satisfied, he tied her belly down over his saddle and climbed on.
    The farm was quiet when he arrived.
    Belinda Jackson was seated on the porch steps, drinking coffee from a china cup. The instant she saw him she was on her feet and hurried over.
    â€œYou did it!”
    Fargo showed her his knuckle. “She bit me.”
    Belinda took his hand. “It’s not deep. Did you bleed much? No? Then I wouldn’t worry.”
    â€œWhere is everyone?”
    â€œEdna and Harold are up in their bedroom. She hasn’t come around and I insisted he stay in bed for the time being and rest. But damn, he’s a difficult patient.”
    â€œThe others?”
    â€œThey’re still here . . .”
    She got no further. The front door opened and out strode Orville, Abner, and Clyde. They came down the steps and Orville gently lifted Abigail from the saddle.
    â€œJesus, mister,” Abner said. “What in hell did you do to her?”
    â€œShe hit her head on a rock,” Fargo explained.
    â€œGet her inside,” Belinda directed. “We’ll put her in her own bed.”
    Orville turned, then looked at Fargo. “For what it’s worth, I’m obliged. You didn’t have to do this. She ain’t your kin.”
    Fargo nodded. They all went in and he wearily climbed down and tied the reins off. He could use some coffee himself. He ambled to the kitchen and was delighted to find a half-full pot, plenty hot. He filled a cup to the brim and sat at the table with his back to the wall so he could see the hallway and the back door, both. He’d taken several grateful swallows when the doorway filled with a man-mountain.
    â€œI meant what I said even though I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you. My wife has been naggin’ me all night to stomp you for hittin’ her.”
    â€œAre you turning over a new leaf?”
    Orville pulled out the chair across from him. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
    â€œNot usually, no,” Fargo admitted.
    â€œWell, I’m bein’ honest with you. My kin mean a lot to me. But I guess you noticed.”
    Fargo grunted.
    â€œSo when someone does us a favor, I remember it.”
    â€œDo me a favor, then,” Fargo said.
    â€œName it.”
    â€œQuit being an ass about Jackson. She’s a damn good sawbones, whether you like her or not.”
    Orville’s jaw twitched. “You push and you push. The best I can say is that I’ll ponder on it some.”
    â€œIt’s a start,” Fargo said, then stated, “I just don’t savvy why you’re so fond of