“At the lattice-work door he passed on through without closing it. He had done the same with the cell, the keys hanging in the lock. The sudden rush of adrenaline had cleared the fuzziness from Smoke’s head. He realized that for all of Biggs’s slovenly appearance and illiterate speech, he was at least clever enough to lay the groundwork for it to appear the mob had overwhelmed him and broke into the jail. “You’re not smart enough to fake a forced entry, Ferdie,” Smoke taunted him. “You’re go...ing to get caught.” Biggs gave him a rough shove that propelled Smoke across the room to the sheriff’s desk. The narrow edge of the top dug into his thighs. Bright pinpoints of pain further cleared Smoke’s thinking. He was ready, then, when Biggs barked his next command. “Turn around, I wanna have some fun, bust you up some, before I let the boys in.” Smoke turned and kept swinging his right leg. The toe of his boot connected with the hand that held the six-gun and knocked it flying.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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