| "MR.
FARGO! BEHIND YOU!"
Fargo spun. The sheriff was ten feet away and had him dead to rights. Both
guns drawn, hammers back, pudgy fingers squeezing the triggers. He smirked,
relishing the moment.
That was when a pistol cracked--a single shot barely heard above the
pandemonium. The fat lawman recoiled as if slapped, his brow knitting as a red
rivulet trickled from a neat little hole above his heart. His pistols sagged, as did
he, his mouth working soundlessly. His body collapsed heavily into the dust.
Fargo peered through the gunsmoke to see the small form of Wes holding his
derringer. The boy had just killed a man, but his calm made him seem frighteningly
old. He looked at Fargo, speaking with almost no emotion.
"My first lawman." |
SOMETHING WAS
OUT THERE A
tremendous blow shook the door to the cabin, accompanied by a gigantic roar that sent
shivers up Fargo's spine. Another blow sent slivers flying, cracking the jamb.
"What the hell?" Lester and Jack were clutching their
rifles.
Fargo flew to the table and picked up his Henry lever-action then spun with
a grim face toward the door. Striding purposefully, he fired into the center of the
door, pumped the lever and fired again...and again...and again. On the eighth slot
the creature let out a screech of pain and the rain of blows on the door stopped.
Fargo halted.
Lester and Jack materialized at his side. Jack crackled.
"You did it! You killed 'im!"
He stopped laughing when the door flew off its hinges, accompanied by a howl
of rage--and revealed the monster they had feared for so long.
"I don't think so," Fargo said, raising his sights and
fired. |
