Outlaw Trackdown (20 page)

“I'm desperate,” Marcella admitted.

“How 'bout it, Dub?” Fargo asked the sheriff. “Will you spring us?”

Gillycuddy pushed to his feet and snatched the cell key from a wall peg. “This time you get the breaks, Fargo. I'll even drop the fine. These gals could use your help, all right. 'Sides, I'm glad to get shut of this stinking savage. But
don't
go killing every living thing you see. I can only ignore so much, and if the hotheads around here get too riled up, all three of us could end up doing a dance on nothing.”

He clanged the door open, then looked at Marcella. “Why are you ladies here, anyhow? Just to aggravate my ulcers?”

Marcella's pretty face turned grim. “I saved that for last. Please come outside.”

All three men trooped out behind the women. Marcella pulled out the pin to drop the tailgate of the buckboard.

The sheriff's face turned fish-belly white. “K. T. Christ!”

The dead man lying inside, glazed eyes staring wide open at nothing, was missing at least a fifth of his head.