The Long Trail (The McCabes Book 1) by Brad Dennison (microsoft ebook reader .TXT) 📗

another fist, but Josh raised his arm and intercepted the punch, then swung a right hook catching Whitey at the side of the jaw. Josh’s head was swimming from Whitey’s punch, but he pressed on as he did not want to lose the sudden advantage he was gaining, and drove a left into Whitey’s eye, then a right cross that caught him on the lip.

Reno was again on his feet, coming up quickly behind Josh and wrapping his arms about him and lifting him from the floor. Whitey was still a little too rocked from Josh’s punches to move in, so Josh took advantage of this, raising both feet and planting them on Whitey’s chest, and pushing away. Whitey fell backward, as did Reno, taking Josh down with him.

Josh rolled free of Reno’s grasp, and sprang to his feet while he watched the heavier, less lithe Reno struggle more slowly to rise.

The dizziness from Whitey’s punch had now cleared, and Josh found himself smiling as he readied himself for his opponents to make their next move.

Hunter had always claimed Josh enjoyed this sort of thing. Maybe he was right. Aunt Ginny did not approve, but at the moment, Josh did not really care.

Whitey came to his feet slowly, using the bar to help pull himself up. He then turned to face Josh with a revolver in his hand. Josh reached to his side to find his holster empty – his pistol must have fallen free when he and Reno tumbled on the floor.

“Now who’s the big man?” Whitey asked.

Whitey suddenly felt a cold, thin blade pressed against his throat from behind, and shot his gaze downward to see a strong hand with thick fingers gripped around the handle of a bowie knife.

“Drop that gun,” Hunter said from behind, “or I’ll cut you a new smile from ear-to-ear.”

Whitey let the pistol fall to the floor.

“This is between Josh and Reno,” Hunter said. “Stay out of it.”

“That’s the way I want it,” Reno said to Josh.

Reno unbuckled his gunbelt and dropped it onto the bar. He then retrieved Josh’s pistol and set it beside his own belt.

Reno said, “You might be better with a gun, but it’s how good you are with your fists that shows your mark as a man. You daddy is one of the best I ever seen with his fists. Let’s see how well you stand up.”

Josh unbuckled his own gunbelt, and set it on the bar. “You’re right about Pa, but you’re wrong about being a man. It’s not how good you are with your fists, or with a gun. It’s what you are inside. Your loyalty, and your courage. And your self-respect.”

The two men began circling each other. Any drunkenness from Reno had by now been knocked from him, and he moved like an animal stalking his prey. He was taller, and outweighed Josh by fifty pounds. The muscles of his arms filled out his sleeves, his shoulders made his shirt pull tightly, and he had a barrel chest. But he was more of a wrestler than a puncher, and if he got hold of Josh, the fight would be over.

Josh moved lightly on the balls of his feet, ready should Reno lunge at him, and to move in with his fists should Reno suddenly provide him an opening.

Reno suddenly leaped at him. Josh dove to one side, and Reno landed face first on the beer-stained floorboards. Hunter burst into a hearty laugh, and Josh heard a chuckle from the doorway; apparently others were drifting into town early as well.

Reno was slow getting to his feet. He had landed hard on the floor, and was a little unsteady as he stood, trying to regain his bearings. Josh, meanwhile had rolled to his feet, and now stepped in, and with his feet spread apart, and began planting punches into Reno’s midsection. He turned his torso and rolling his shoulders into each blow, like Pa had taught him to do, like he had during countless hours of practice on the heavy bag hanging in the barn at home.

Reno grunted as each fist connected, but now that he was prepared, Josh found he was hitting a wall of solid muscle. He was not gaining any ground.

After four or five futile punches, Josh then changed tactics, before Reno could decide to ignore the punches entirely and try to tackle him again, and brought a sharp uppercut into Reno’s chin, then drove a left cross into his nose, which started blood streaming down over Reno’s chin.

Reno staggered backward to the bar. Josh moved in to finish the fight, drawing back his right fist for one final punch. Reno suddenly stepped into him, not as badly hurt as he had let on, wrapping his arms around Josh again and lifting him from the floor.

Josh managed to pull his left arm free before Reno could fully tighten his grip, but his right was pinned to his side, and his feet were a few inches from the floor.

Josh fought to keep the air from being squeezed from him. The pressure increased against his ribs, and a couple of kinks he did not realize he had in his back snapped.

He drove his left fist into Reno’s ear out of desperation. Reno winced, but continued to squeeze. However, Josh realized he was pursuing the proper course of action.

With his open hand he began to slap at the Reno’s ear. Once. Twice. Reno’s eyes were clamped shut at the pain. Josh managed a third slap, then Reno loosened his grip and Josh slipped free.

Josh dropped to one knee while Reno clasped a hand to his ear, blood from his nose now rolling down his neck and to his shirt.

Josh rose to his feet. With a roar of rage, Reno charged at him.

Josh ducked as Reno moved to tackle him, and Reno’s momentum carried him over Josh’s back. Josh straightened and Reno tumbled to the floor behind him.

Reno rose to his feet once again, unsteadily,