Comstock Cross Fire by Gary Franklin Read Free Book Online Page B

killed that old bastard when I was twelve.”
    Holt glanced at Joe and actually smiled. “I’m sure you would have tried. But then you got more guts than anyone I ever knew and you’re about half crazy when it comes to killing. The truth is that you wouldn’t have had a chance against my old man at twelve years old any more than I did. So I waited and got him killed at sixteen.”
    â€œWhat about the little woman he had that night?” Fiona asked.
    â€œI killed that little whore, too.”
    â€œWhy’d you do that?” Joe asked.
    â€œBecause when my mother had to take off her dress, the little whore pointed at Mother’s fat, sagging body and started to giggle. You see, she was making fun of my mother’s body and I just couldn’t abide that.”
    â€œDid you also hack her to death?” Fiona asked.
    â€œNaw,” Holt said, taking a drink. “I dragged her out to the barn and fucked her, then I beat her brains out with a singletree.”
    Fiona shuddered.
    â€œAnd then you know what I did?” Holt asked the fire.
    â€œWhat?” Joe asked.
    â€œI killed my mother because she was so miserable. But I killed her quick and easy and she asked me to do it. I didn’t want to at first because I loved her, but she begged me to kill her, so I finally did. I buried Mother, but I lit the barn on fire with my father and the whore inside.”
    â€œAnd then?” Fiona asked quietly.
    â€œThen I ran away and never looked back. I started bare-knuckle fighting for prize money. I’m so big that there were few foolish enough to get into a ring with me, so I’d take on two or three at a time just like my father had done. And I’d always win. Always.”
    Holt took another drink. “I did that until I beat a man to death in the ring in Chicago. They tried to arrest me, and I decided I had better get out of town and keep movin’ or I might get hanged. You see, the young fella that I beat to death was well connected to some dangerous people.”
    Holt laughed to himself and shook his head. “I didn’t even get to collect the purse I’d won that night in Chicago, but it didn’t matter. I have always been able to get work killing someone for money, or else protecting some rich sonofabitch from his enemies.”
    â€œSo you learned to shoot and use a knife?” Joe asked, knowing this information would be very important to him in the future.
    â€œOh, yeah,” Holt said, looking at Joe. “I learned how to use a gun, a rifle, a knife, and everything else that kills. However, I never learned how to use a tomahawk to kill and scalp men like you do, Joe.”
    â€œI could teach you,” Joe offered. “Take off these shackles and we’ll give it a few practice throws right now.”
    Holt laughed without mirth. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you’d like to do that. Yeah, you sure as hell would! And I’d wind up with your tomahawk stuck in my forehead.”
    Holt stopped laughing and took another pull on the bottle. He glanced over at Joe and Fiona and said, “I’ll tell you both a little secret.”
    â€œMaybe we don’t want to hear it,” Joe told the big man.
    â€œSure you do,” Holt assured them. “Because the secret is that I admire you, Joe. I admire how tough you are and how many of the informants I’ve paid to keep looking for you are dead by your hand.”
    â€œHow much did you pay ’em for watchin’ out for me all these months?”
    â€œNot much. Ten dollars, but they stood to make a hundred if they saw you and got word to me fast enough to find you.”
    â€œTen dollars, huh,” Joe mused. “Not much to die for.”
    â€œMen have died for a lot less,” Holt said. “So how many of ’em did you kill, Joe?”
    Joe thought about that. “Four or five.”
    â€œAnd you took their scalps?”
    â€œI