The Wettest County in the World by Matt Bondurant Read Free Book Online

the one to watch for. It was in the sizing up of a man, when you could tell how it would go—that foreknowledge was what made Forrest’s ears crack and his knuckles go white. Forrest saw in his head the anger in a triangle of fire floating in a field of night sky. He focused on it and put a dark box around it, making it smaller until a cold blankness ran over him like water and he wanted to fling himself onto the back of the world with both fists crashing down. When he looked at these two men they were like animals standing on their hind legs.
    Forrest stepped away from the bar to give himself some space. Hal stood behind him holding the cavalry pistol but Forrest knew they would charge and the old man wouldn’t fire. The four of them stood there for a moment and then the sweaty-faced man came at Forrest with both fists, howling, and Forrest sidestepped him and pushed him into a table and the man crashed to the ground. Jefferson rushed out of the kitchen in his apron and sat on the man’s kicking legs and Hal put the pistol to the man’s temple and told him to lie still.
    When Forrest turned around the man in the coveralls was driving at his face and Forrest twisted and caught the blow on the ear, moving with the momentum, covering up with his elbows, and then the man was on him. The man got both arms around Forrest’s midsection and was trying to pick him up, grunting, his lips curled and his mouth open, his breath foul and hot and Forrest felt himself come off his feet and then he knew that this was real trouble. The man lifted him and staggered into the bar and when his grip loosened for a moment Forrest got a hand free and brought the heel of his hand up sharply under the man’s chin, into the soft pouch of the goiter. The man’s teeth clacked hard and he let go of Forrest and stumbled back, his eyes wild. A fleshy sliver of tongue dribbled over his bottom lip followed by a sheet of blood that ran down his chin and neck. He caught the piece of tongue in his palm and groaned. In a fluid motion Forrest slipped on the iron knuckles he had in his pocket, jerked him around by his collar and caught him with a crunching overhand right between the eyes, laying his forehead wide open to the bone and dropping him to the floor.
    They dragged him out by his ankles and threw him into the ditch beside the road and when he hit the muddy snow he moaned and clutched at his bloody head. Then Forrest and Jefferson threw the sweaty-faced man out into the parking lot and he rolled about cursing and crying as Forrest kicked him with his heavy boots for a while. He waited for the man to turn or move his arms to get a kick in at his ribs or head, walking around his body and winding into him with a few steps for momentum, his boots slipping in the snow. It was a cold night, clouds building from the east range of mountains and the pines across the hard road standing tall in the darkness. When Forrest’s boot found a soft part the man grunted and wheezed. Forrest felt tired and irritated by the whole thing, though he was not surprised. The word was out about the money and desperate men would always show up to take a chance. Forrest rubbed his split earlobe with his fingers as he aimed a short hard kick to the man’s kidneys. Goddammit, Howard, he thought, why bother even say you’re gonna do something?
    Maggie was sweeping up the glass from the mirror and the jars when Forrest came back in. The radio was still playing and there wasn’t another sound for miles. Forrest felt a bit ashamed suddenly and he thought of saying something or apologizing but instead turned away and went into the back with Hal and Jefferson to finish up in the kitchen. She’s no child, Forrest thought, and she’d seen worse it was certain.
    In the kitchen Jefferson was washing his hands in the sink again and Hal was smoking as he paced the floor, mumbling to himself, still keyed up. Forrest took out his money clip and peeled off two fives and stepping in front of