with These Hands (Ss) (2002) (3 page)

"Remember, kid, anytime you see two fighters meet in the center of the ring, and one of them looks at the other one, or tries to look him in the eye, bet on the other guy.

The fellow who looks at his opponent is uncertain."

They wheeled and trotted back to their corners, and then the bell rang.

He went out fast and led with a left. It landed, lightly, and he stepped in and hooked. That landed solidly and he took a left himself before he tied the Soldier up. This preliminary sparring never meant anything. It was just one of those things you had to go through.

Barnaby was hard as nails, he could see that, and fast on his feet. ... A blow exploded on Moran's chin and he felt himself reel, falling back against the ropes.

The Soldier was coming in briskly, and Moran rolled away, straightened up, and then stopped Barnaby's charge with a pistonlike left. He stepped in, took a hard punch, but slipped another and smashed a wicked right to the heart.

He was inside then and he rolled with the punch and hooked his left to the ribs, and then with his head outside the Soldier's right he whipped his own right to Barnaby's head.

It was fast, that first round, and both men were punching.

No matter what happened later, Moran decided, he was still going to soften Barnaby up plenty.

When the bell rang for the second, Flash Moran ran out and missed a left then fell into a clinch. As they broke, he hooked twice to the Soldier's head, but the Soldier got inside with a right. Moran smashed both hands to the body and worked around. The Soldier fought oddly, carried himself in a peculiar manner.

It was midway through the third when Flash figured it out. The Soldier was a natural southpaw who had been taught to fight right-handed. His stance was still not quite what a natural right-hander's would be, but the training had left him a wicked two-handed puncher.

Soldier Barnaby was crowding the fight now and they met in mid-ring and started to swap it out.

Outside the ropes all was a confused roar. With the pounding of that noise in Moran's ears and the taste of blood in his mouth, he felt a wild, unholy exhilaration as they slugged for all they were worth.

The first seven rounds went by like a dream. It was, he knew, a great fight. Those first seven rounds had never given the crowd a chance to sit down, never a chance to stop cheering. It was almost time for the bell, time for the eighth.

He got up eager to be going, and suddenly, out of the ringside seats, beyond the press benches, he saw Blackie Marollo. The gambler was sitting back in his seat, his eyes cold and bitter. Beside him was McKracken, his big face ugly in the dim light.

Before the tenth.

He remembered the Soldier's words. Would Barnaby weaken and take a dive? And if he got a chance, should Moran knock him out?

The bell sounded for the eighth and they both came out slower. Both men were ready, and they knew that this was a critical time in the fight. As Barnaby stepped forward, Flash looked him over coolly. The older fighter had a lump on his cheekbone. Otherwise, he was unmarked. That brown face seemed impervious, seemed granite-hard. How like the old Dempsey, Barnaby looked! The shock of dark curly hair, the swarthy, unshaven face, the cold eyes.

Moran circled warily. He didn't like the look of things.

What if the Soldier stopped him before the tenth? How was Marollo's money bet, anyway? Was it bet on a knockout before the tenth? Or on~Moran to stop Barnaby?

Barnaby came in fast, landed a hard left to the head, then a right. Moran started to sidestep, his foot caught and for an instant he was off balance. He saw the Soldier's left start and tried to duck but caught the blow on the corner of the jaw. It spun him halfway around. Then, as Barnaby, his eyes blasting with eagerness, closed in, he caught a left to the body and a right to the chin. He felt himself hit the ropes and slide along them. Something exploded in his face and he went down on his knees in his own corner.

Through a haze of roaring sound, he stared at the canvas, his head spinning. He got one foot on the floor, shook his head, and the mists cleared a little. At the same instant, his gaze fell upon Marollo. The racketeer's face was white.

He was half out of his chair, screaming.

At the count of nine, something happened to his legs and they straightened him up. As the Soldier charged, Moran ducked a driving right and clinched desperately. The referee fought to get them free. When they broke, Moran stabbed the Soldier with a stiff left to the mouth that started a trickle of blood down his face, then crossed hard right to the chin and the startled Soldier took a step back.

But he slipped the next left and came in, slamming both hands to Moran's body. Smiling grimly, Moran stabbed three times to Barnaby's split lip, stepped in, and hooked high and low with the left.

Barnaby's eyes were wild now. He charged with a volley of hooks, swings, and uppercuts that drove Flash Moran back and back. Moran got on his bicycle, fled along the ropes, and circled into the center of the ring, where he feinted with a right. As Barnaby came in, Flash Moran crossed his right to the chin.

The blow caught the Soldier coming forward and knocked him back on his heels. Moran followed it up fast and staggered Barnaby with a left, then stabbed another left to the mouth and crossed a hard right which caught the Soldier high on the head. Barnaby staggered and almost went down. Clinching, the Soldier hung on. At last he broke and tried a wild swing to the head. It missed, but the next caught Moran on the chin.

He went down-hard!

The bell sounded as Moran was getting up. Flash turned and walked back to his corner. He was dead tired, tired and mad clear through. Two knockdowns! It was the first time he had ever been off his feet!

"How's it, kid? Hurt?"

"No. Just mad."

Kelly grinned. "Don't worry. This round coming up will be yours. Lots of left hands now, and watch that left of his."

The gong sounded. They both came out fast and the Soldier bored in. Flash Moran needled Barnaby's mouth with a left jab, then put a left to the body and one to the head. He sidestepped quickly to the right and missed with a right hand.

Now Flash Moran got up on his toes and began to box.

He boxed neatly and fast. He piled up points. He kept the Soldier off balance and rocked him with a couple of stiff right hands.

For two and a half minutes of the ninth round, he outboxed the Soldier and piled up points. Barnaby had taken the eighth by a clear margin. The two knockdowns had seen to that.

As for himself, Moran knew he had won the first round and the seventh, while the Soldier had taken the second, third, and fourth. The fifth and sixth were even. It left the Soldier with a margin toward the decision; those knockdowns would stick in the judges' minds.

Moran stabbed in with a left, crossed a right, and then suddenly spotted a beautiful shot for the chin.

He let it go-right down the groove!

And then something smashed against his jaw like the concussion of a six-inch shell. Again he went down, hard.

X jf The first thing he heard was five. Someone was saying "i \ "five." No, it was six ... seven ... eight...

Moran did a push-up with his hands and lunged for; ward like the starter in a hundred-yard dash.

| The Soldier was ready He set himself, and Flash could |; see the fist coming. It had to miss, had to miss, had to--

I | miss!

\ He brought up hard against the Soldier's body, tied him |: up, and smashed two solid rights to Barnaby's midsection [-; as the round ended.

- He wheeled, ran to his corner, and sat down. As he sat he saw a small, wiry man sitting next to McKracken get up and slip out along the aisle.

A moment later the little man was in the Soldier's corner.

Flash Moran sat up. He shook his head, felt the blast of the smelling salts under his nose and the coolness of the water on the back of his neck. Dan Kelly wasn't talking.

He was looking at Moran. Then he spoke.

"All right, kid? Got enough?"

Moran grinned suddenly.

"I'm just getting started! I'm going to stop this lug!"

He went out fast at the bell, feinted a left and crossed a solid right to the head. He hooked a left, and the Soldier clinched.

"To the devil with it, kid!" Barnaby said in his ear. "I'm going into the tank. Marollo will kill me if I don't!"

Flash Moran fought bitterly, swapping punches in the clinch with the Soldier, then the referee broke them apart.

Suddenly, Flash Moran knew what Barnaby had said couldn't be true. The Soldier was too good a man. What if Barnaby had tried to double-cross him? What if-he stabbed a left to the Soldier's mouth, smashed both hands to the body, and then went inside and clinched.

"You dive and I squeal the whole thing!" he muttered.

"I won't let you dive! I'll talk right here, from the ring. If you go out during the round, I'll spill it right here."

"Marollo would kill you, too!" Barnaby snarled. They broke, sparred at long range, and Flash Moran let go with a right. Even as the punch started, he knew the Soldier was going to take it. The punch was partially blocked, and Barnaby began to wilt.

Like a streak Moran closed in and clinched, heaving him back against the ropes.

"I told you!" Moran muttered. "Fight, you yellow skunk!

Real fighters don't dive!"

Barnaby broke loose, his eyes cold. He stabbed a left to the mouth, crossed a right, and Flash went inside with both hands to the body. He staggered Barnaby with a left, and knocked him into the ropes. As they rolled along the ropes, the Soldier tried to fall again, but Flash brought him up with a left just as the bell sounded. At this moment, Moran looked over the Soldier's shoulder right into Marollo's eyes.

Blackie Marollo was looking like a very sick man.

McKracken, his big, swarthy face yellow, was also sagging.

Instantly, Moran knew what had happened. They had overbet and they wouldn't be able to pay up!

The bell clanged again, and the referee broke the two fighters and they went to their corners.

The eleventh was quieter. Flash knew nothing would happen in the eleventh. Marollo had frightened the Soldier into trying to dive in the tenth, but the Soldier's money was bet on a dive in the twelfth round.

Flash Moran walked in and feinted to the head, then uppercut hard with a left to the liver. He stepped in a bit more and brought up his right under the Soldier's heart.

He landed two more punches to the body in a clinch and they broke. Moran was body punching now. He slipped a left and rapped a right over Barnaby's heart, then hooked a left. He landed twice more to the body as the bell rang.

The twelfth opened fast. Both men walked to the center of the ring and Moran got in the first punch, a left that started the blood from the Soldier's mouth. As he slipped a left, they began to slug, fighting hard. They battered each other from corner to corner of the ring for two solid minutes. There was no letup. This was hard, bitter, slambang fighting. Suddenly, Barnaby caught a high right and started to fall.

Moran rushed him into the ropes before he could hit the canvas and smashed a right to the head. Angry, Barnaby jerked his head away from a second punch, and slugged Flash Moran in the wind. Moran's mouth fell open as he gasped for breath. As he staggered back, all the fighter in Barnaby came back with a rush. This was victory! He could win!

Seeing a big title fight just ahead of him, Barnaby came in slugging!

Half covered, Moran reeled under the storm of blows and went down. He staggered up at ten, and went down again. Just before the bell rang, he straightened up. They clinched.

"You played 'possum, blast you!" Barnaby snarled.

"Sure! I always liked a fight!" Moran said and let go with a left that narrowly missed the Soldier and slid by him, almost landing on the face of the referee. The referee jerked back like he'd been shot at, and glared at Moran.

"Naughty, naughty!" Barnaby said with a grin.

The bell rang.

When they came out for the thirteenth, they came out fast.

"All right!" Barnaby snapped. "You wanted a fight. Well you're gonna get one!"

He ducked a left and slammed a wicked right to Moran's middle. Moran gasped with pain and Barnaby crowded on in, driving Moran back into the ropes with a flurry of wicked punches. A steaming right caught Flash on the chin, but he set himself and smashed a right to the body, a left to the head, and a right to the body.

Slugging like a couple of madmen, they circled the ring.

Flash hung the Soldier on the ropes and smashed a left to the chin. The Soldier came off the ropes, ran into a stiff left, and went to his knees. He came up slugging and, toe-totoe, the two men slugged it out for a full thirty seconds.

Then Moran threw a left to the Soldier's mouth and the blood started again.

Barnaby broke away from a clinch, hooked a high right to the head, and followed it up with a stiff left to the wind.

They battered each other across the ring and Barnaby split Moran's lip with a left. The Soldier moved in and knocked Moran reeling with another left. Following it up, he dropped Moran to his knees.