Texas Tornado Read Online Free PDF Page A

many wrinkles as Miss Emily.
    Fargo slid his fingers between the bars and tapped on the glass.
    All three women gave a start.
    Carmody sat up and looked at the window. Hope lit her face and she slid off the bed and took a step but couldn’t take another because of the chain. She said something, but Fargo couldn’t hear the words.
    A sound from the jail caused Fargo to drop flat. There were voices and the jangle of keys.
    A rectangle of light speared the twenty feet of space between the office and the so-called barracks.
    In a crouch, Fargo cat-footed to the front.
    The marshal’s office was well lit, the back door wide open. A desk was visible, and a lamp. No one appeared to be inside.
    The door to the barracks was open, and inside someone bellowed, “In your beds! Now! You know what to do, you peckerwoods.”
    Fargo went to the first window and peered in.
    Deputy Clyde and another deputy were overseeing a scramble by the prisoners to turn in.
    The new deputy was as big as an ox, with a bushy beard and fists the size of hams. A constant frown creased his craggy face, and he looked ready to tear into anyone who gave him sass.
    Clyde was grinning. “Like a bunch of mice,” he said, and laughed.
    Most of the prisoners couldn’t hide their fear. A few glared in defiance.
    â€œGive me cause,” the big deputy dared them. “Give me any cause at all.”
    â€œYou tell them, Brock,” Clyde said.
    Deputy Brock lumbered down the aisle, a bear spoiling for a fight. “I’d as soon bust your skulls,” he declared, “but dead men can’t do any work.”
    Deputy Clyde cackled. “Ain’t you a hoot, Brock? You truly are.”
    Brock stopped at the foot of a bed. The man in it met his stare with surprising calm. “Something on your mind, Harris?”
    â€œNot mine,” Harris said. “Only six days to go. I won’t do anything to ruin my chances.”
    Bending, Brock clamped a brawny hand on the man’s other leg, midcalf. “Oh?” he said, and his thick fingers tightened.
    Harris grimaced and tried to draw away.
    â€œWant to hit me?” Brock taunted. “Want to take a swing?”
    â€œNo,” Harris got out between clenched teeth. “Never.”
    â€œLiar,” Brock said, and his fingers seemed to disappear into the folds of Harris’s baggy pants. “You know you do. Come on. Just one punch.”
    â€œAnd have to serve another year?” Harris shook his head. “Not on your life.”
    â€œThere are still six days,” Brock said, and let go. Puffing his chest out, he swaggered on to the partition and rapped on the small door. “Knock, knock, ladies,” he said. “Ready or not, here we come.”

5
    Fargo had to see. He made it to the last window and peered in just as Brock and Clyde entered.
    The women were in their beds. The older one shrank against the wall, terrified. The pretty young one with the freckles glared in pure and utter hate, not scared at all.
    Carmody Jones sat up and said loud enough that Fargo heard her, “Get out of here, you two.”
    â€œShut up, bitch,” Deputy Brock said. “We make a bed check every night. You know that.”
    â€œBed check,” Deputy Clyde said, and did more of his usual snickering.
    Brock moved to Carmody’s bunk. He reached out to touch her leg, but she drew it back. “Still got some spunk in you, I see.”
    â€œTry that again and you’ll find out how much,” Carmody said.
    â€œI like ’em feisty.” Deputy Brock leered at her. “It’s more fun.”
    â€œLeave her be,” the young woman with the freckles said, “or I’ll rip out your throat with my teeth.”
    Brock laughed. “I’m supposed to be scared of a little thing like you?”
    â€œI won’t have this chain on forever,” the woman with the freckles said.
    â€œWe’ll break you like a