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Chapter 20

           Beabunchaguysdownhere,maybewithpickhandles,ifyouain’tgone.»

           Thecontractorsaid,«ItoldyouIneedmen.Ifyoudon’twanttoworkwell,that’syourbusiness.»Thedeputysmiled.«Iftheydon’twanttowork,theyain’taplacefor’eminthiscounty.We’llfloat’emquick.»

           Floydstoodstifflybesidethedeputy,andFloyd’sthumbswerehookedoverhisbelt.Tomstolealookathim,andthenstaredattheground.

           «That’sall,"thecontractorsaid.«There’smenneededinTulareCounty;plentyofwork.»

           TomlookedslowlyupatFloyd’shands,andhesawthestringsatthewristsstandingoutundertheskin.Tom’sownhandscameup,andhisthumbshookedoverhisbelt.

           «Yeah,that’sall.Idon’twantoneofyouherebytomorramorning.»ThecontractorsteppedintotheChevrolet.

           «Now,you,"thedeputysaidtoFloyd,«yougetinthatcar.»HereachedalargehandupandtookholdofFloyd’sleftarm.Floydspunandswungwithonemovement.Hisfistsplashedintothelargeface,andinthesamemotionhewasaway,dodgingdownthelineoftents.ThedeputystaggeredandTomputouthisfootforhimtotripover.Thedeputyfellheavilyandrolled,reachingforhisgun.Floyddodgedinandoutofsightdowntheline.Thedeputyfiredfromtheground.Awomaninfrontofatentscreamedandthenlookedatahandwhichhadnoknuckles.Thefingershungonstringsagainstherpalm,andthetornfleshwaswhiteandbloodless.FardownthelineFloydcameinsight,sprintingforthewillows.

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