Free Demon's Pass by Ralph Compton

the side of the wagon with a solid blow to the big man’s jaw.
    With a loud bellow, Fenton sprang back, swinging wildly. Clay was barely able to avoid his punch.
    â€œFight! Fight!” someone in the crowd shouted and instantly, the crowd doubled in size as nearly everyone in town ran down to the front of the wagon yard. They watched as the two combatants circled about, their fists doubled.
    Parker noticed that Clay was holding his fists up in front of him, whereas Fenton was letting his hands dangle much lower, raising them only when the two got close. Fenton swung again, as wildly as before, and Clay countered with a swift left jab that caught Fenton flush in the face. Despite the power of the blow, Fenton just shook it off.
    Surprisingly, Parker was able to observe the fight with an almost detached interest, curious as to how Clay would handle his foe. The youth knew it was a contest of quickness and agility against brute strength, and he hoped to learn by watching.
    After easily evading another of Fenton’s club-like swings, Clay counterpunched with a second quick jab. Again, it caught his opponent square on the jaw, and again Fenton shrugged it off. As the fight went on, it was apparent that Clay could hit Fenton almost at will, but since he was bobbing and weaving, he couldn’t set himself for a telling blow, so his punch didn’t faze Fenton at all.
    Clay hit Fenton in the stomach several times, obviously hoping to find a soft spot, but to no avail. Giving that up, he started throwing punches toward Fenton’s head, but they were just as ineffectual until a quick opening allowed him to slam a left hook squarely into Fenton’s face. Parker saw Fenton’s already flat nose go even flatter under Clay’s fist. From that, Parker knew the man’s nose had been broken. Fenton started bleeding profusely, and the blood ran across the big man’s teeth. It was a gruesome sight, but Fenton continued to grin wickedly, seemingly unperturbed by his injury.
    Clay kept trying to hit his nose again, but Fenton started protecting it. Fenton nonetheless continued to throw great arcing blows toward Clay, who managed to evade any real impact, catching them on his forearms and shoulders. Parker feared that if just one of them connected with his friend’s head, Clay would be finished.
    A moment later, Clay managed to get another sharp, bruising jab through to Fenton’s nose, and for the first time, Fenton let out a bellow of pain. But it was clear that the triumph would be momentary, for the thunderous punches that had repeatedly assailed Clay’s shoulders and forearms were beginning to wear him down. Then Fenton managed to land a straight, short right, and Clay fell to his hands and knees.
    The crowd groaned, for, in numbers, they had found the courage to root for the one they really wanted to win. With a yell of victory, Fenton rushed over and tried to kick Clay, but at the last second Clay rolled to one side. He hopped up again before Fenton could recover for a second kick and, while the big man was still off balance, sent a brutal punch straight into Fenton’s groin.
    When Fenton instinctively dropped both hands to his groin, Clay slugged him in the Adam’s apple. Fenton clutched his neck with both hands and sagged, gagging, to his knees. Clay hit him one final time right on the point of the chin, and Fenton fell facedown, unconscious.
    The crowd was stunned by the sudden change of fortune and for a moment they were silent. Then they gave up a tremendous cheer.
    â€œDid you kill the son of a bitch?” someone shouted.
    â€œNo,” Clay answered, shaking his head and catching his breath.
    â€œWell, you’d better kill him, ’cause if you don’t, he’s goin’ to try an’ kill you when he comes to.”
    â€œYeah, why don’t you step on the son of a bitch’s neck and break it?” one of the others asked. “It’d save us all a