“Now really mate,” the fist’s target reasoned as he dodged another blow.  “Yore just making this harder on yourself than it has to be.”

Deputy Sheriff Hack Wilson (or as he preferred to be known as, the Kangaroo Kid) was not having a good week.  A transplanted Australian trying to make a name for himself in the wild American west; so far he had managed to lose the leader of the infamous Pike Gang while trying to recover the town of Benton’s money, only to lose that too.  Fortunately, he helped Wild Bill Hickok and Marshal Teaspoon Hunter of Sweet Water recover both and Sheriff Dooley let him keep his job.

Presently the Aussie deputy was engaged in a vicious fistfight with one Barnard Mullens.  Known as Brass-Knuckle Barney, Metal-Fist Mullens or to the more sophisticated, the Gauntlet, he was a former boxer who had earned his moniker by using a pair of custom made bras knuckles during his matches when the referee wasn’t looking.  Mullens’ metal mittens covered the entire back of his hand and curved over his fingers making it a formidable weapon.  Now he used his skills as a boxer and his secret weapon to do other peoples dirty work.  Like now.

Mullens had been sent to drive off Ned Rowan and his family off their farm.  It was rumored the Gauntlet was in the employ of an unknown land grabber known only as the Spider.  The Spider was suspected to be spinning an intricate web of control throughout the county.  Most of the Spider’s dealings seemed to be legitimate, if somewhat shady.  But now and then, some schemes tended to take a violent turn.  No one had a clue who the Spider was and so far none of his suspected agents had lived to talk.  Sheriff Dooley hoped if one of the land grabber’s hired thugs could be taken alive, he would tell them his identity.  This was why Hack hadn’t tried to use his gun … that and he’d lost it.

When Hack had first arrived at the Rowan place, Ned was already been laid out on the ground with a bloody splatter where his nose had once been.  Brass-Knuckle Barney had been standing over Ned, ready to smash in his skull with his patented steel fist.

Hack spurred his horse faster then leapt from his mount onto the big man’s broad back.  Mullens staggered forward a couple of steps, but didn’t fall.  Instead, once he’d regained his balance, he tried to shake the deputy off like a bull.  Hack found himself clinging for dear life.  Roaring with rage and frustration, Mullens reached back, grabbed Hack by the back of his coat and hurled him through the barn doors.  Unfortunately for Deputy Wilson, the barn doors happened to be closed at the time.

The deputy sheriff crashed through the heavy wooden doors and landed hard on the barn floor. Hack struggled to his feet groping for his pistol, only to find his holster empty.  It must have slipped out while I was in flight, he thought frustratedly.  Sadly he didn’t have time to look for it, Mullens charged him swinging wildly.

Avoiding the ex-boxer’s blows, he tried to talk his way out of this mess.  Realizing talk wasn’t working, Hack decided to go on the offensive.  Ducking under one of Mullens’ swings, Hack tackled his opponent around the waist.  The Kangaroo Kid managed to lift Metal-fist Mullens off one foot before he brought both of his fists down across Wilson’s back.

Wilson dropped to his knees, crying out in pain.  Mullens reached down, wrapping his arms around Hack’s waist, hoisted him up and drove him through the nearest stall.  Catching his breath, Mullens snarled.  “I’m gonna pound you into cow pies, limey!”

Limey, Hack thought indignantly. Who the hell was he calling a limey!  Enraged at the thought of being mistaken for a tea-toting Brit, the Kangaroo Kid received a second wind.  Jumping to his feet, Hack grabbed the top of the stall entrance and lashed out with both legs at the hired bruiser.

Wilson’s feet connected with Mullens’ nose with a sickening crunch.  Brass-Knuckle Barney’s head snapped back, his nose a bloody mess.  He staggered backwards but wouldn’t go done.

Landing cat-like on his feet, Hack rushed Mullens driving fist after fist into his gut.  “Who-you-callin’-a-limey-you-thick-headed-thug! -I’m-an-Aussie-born-and-bred. -Get-that-through-your-empty-skull!”  Wilson accentuated each syllable with another blow.

Mullens lashed out blindly, his fist glancing off the back of Hack’s head.  Fortunately for Mullens, a glancing blow was just as effective as a solid one.  Hack spun around and collided with a stall divider.  Mullens grabbed him and sent him through it.  Wilson landed face down in a pile of something in the next stall.

Spitting up cow pies, Hack rolled to his feet.  His hands brushed against something hard.  Looking down, he saw it was a shovel.  Wilson swung the shovel like a club, connecting solidly with a loud clang upside Mullens’ head.  Mullens collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor.  Panting heavily, the kid from Australia saw that the spade of the shovel was bent in half.  Hearing an angry growl, Hack looked back to see Mullens pull himself up and take two menacing steps toward the battered Aussie.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hack whined.

Wilson tossed the shovel aside and waited for Mullens’ next move.  The Kangaroo Kid was spent.  He was exhausted from, sore from hitting, being hit and trying to avoid being hit.  He didn’t even have enough energy for bluster.  It was all he could do just to stay upright.

The metal fisted mauler glowered sightlessly at Hack.  He took a couple of more steps before suddenly stopping.  He teetered for a moment then, with one long groan, he collapsed forward.

Hack stood there for a moment, stunned.  Then it finally hit him, oh it was over.  Taking a step toward the body, he kicked something metallic across the floor.  It was his gun.  Rolling his eyes, Hack re-holstered his wayward firearm.  The first Deputy Wilson did was to take off Mullens’ metal mittens and pocket them.  These might come in handy.  He replaced them with a pair of handcuffs, then dragged Mullens by his feet outside.

Upon exiting the barn, Hack was attacked by the exaggerated gratitude of Rowan’s pretty twin daughters.  Heart-shaped faces with pouty red lips framed with raven black hair, both Vanessa and Veronica Rowan were very desirable women.

“Oh, thank you deputy.”

“You were so wonderful.”

“It was magnificent.”

“How did you -”

“Ladies please,” Hack raised his hands to silence the babbling girls.  “I need to secure my prisoner and get him back to the Benton jail.”

Vanessa’s mouth dropped open in surprise.  “You can’t go now!”

“No, of course not,” Veronica put in.  “It’ll be dark soon.”

“Exactly.  Why don’t you stay for supper?”

“Yes.  It’s the least we can do.”

“Well I don’t know,” Hack rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully.  “What does your father think?”

The exchanged looks.  “Daddy’s asleep.”

“But he wouldn’t mind.”

“When he wakes up, the only thing he’ll care about is a bottle of his home brew.”

“And we left him a jug beside the bed where he’ll find easily.”

“Well,” Hack drawled, his mind already made up.  It wasn’t often he got to spend time with such lovely looking company.

“Please,” the twins begged.

Hack smiled rakishly.  “Alright.  Just let me secure my prisoner.”

With help from the Rowan twins, Hack managed to throw the three hundred-pound pugilist over his horse and tied him to his saddle.  Then, with each sister taking an arm of the Kangaroo Kid, they both offered him a dazzling smile and led him back to the farmhouse.  It looked like it was going a very interesting night.

The next morning had that statement proven true.  After a hearty meal, Hack had been offered a bed for the night.  The only problem had been deciding which bed to take: Vanessa or Veronica’s.  The Rowan farm was so far away from anywhere, it had been a long time since the girls had enjoyed the company of a man.  After some hard thinking, the Aussie decided to see exactly how identical they were.  Vanessa proved seemed to possess almost limitless energy, but Veronica proved to be the more imaginative.  Between the two of them it was a miracle he’d gotten any sleep at all.

The girls bid him good-bye clad only in the bed sheets.  Hack kissed them both and climbed onto his horse.  With an over the shoulder wave he set off towards town at a soft trot.

Looking down at the unconscious Mullens, Hack wondered if Dooley would be able to get him to talk but he doubted it.  Mullens was too much of a professional to inform on a client.  Besides it was unlikely he’d ever met the Spider.  This, however, was all Dooley’s problem.  Right now all Hack could think about was how he was going to get to spend more time with the lusty Rowan sisters.