10 Short Novels Magazine — page 78: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“=. + ~ oo 76 * *% * Ten Short Novels Magazine See “Nope. I’m lookin’ out for number one —Oscar Ruff.” He eyed her steadily. “I wish you'd believe that.” “T don’t!” He shrugged. “Well, that’s too bad. But it sure don’t alter my intentions none. I’m gonna hold you two prisoners. Then I’m gonna grab old Stan Yonkel an’ his foreman an’ put you all together. Then I’m gonna work on you all until some- body busts loose with the truth about this. There’s an African in the kindlin’, . what I mean!” Huge Titanic Harrison sneered vicious- ly. His big fingers curled and uncurled. He cursed twice, violent oaths that made the girl go scarlet, then began: “You littl—” Wham! Gunshot sound clattered across the brakes. Titanic Harrison clipped his mouth shut tightly. He put fumbling hands to his chest, took an aimless sidewise step. —— he doubled suddenly down on his ace. At the report Ruff leaped backward, slanted his Winchester at the spot from which the bushwhacker had fired and stroked the trigger. He saw nothing to shoot at—just fired blindly in hope of preventing a second shot. “Duck!” he ripped at the girl. “That’s the buzzard who monkeyed with the rope.” The girl dropped to all fours, scuttled down the gully. Flattened, Ruff waited for another shot. None came. When he thought it safe he looked at Titanic Har- rison. The puncture in the giant’s shirt front told him the man had been shot through the heart. Furtively, Ruff wiggled up out of the gully. He speared his hat on the tip of a sage brush. No bullets were drawn, He ~ Jeft the hat there, moved a dozen yards away and tossed a rock to make noise near the heat. That did not draw fire, either. Krom down the gully where the girl had gone came a faint screech and struggle sounds. Ruff leaped recklessly. erect, flung for the spot. Wham! Wham! The bushwhacker had not moved. His bullets made hot — bare inches in front of Ruff’s ace. The undersized ranny pitched down. WISTING as he landed, Ruff ex- ploded the Winchester in the general direction of the unseen marksman. There was no sign he had hit anybody. An open patch of alkali lay between him and where the girl had screeched. He circled it, scuttling on all fours, making — slow progress, but not daring to straight- en and run. Into the gully he tumbled. A moment later he found jumbled bootprints, large ones and small ones. The girl had been seized there. Down the gully he sprinted, trailing. , The gash widened, deepened. From sand the bottom changed to bedrock. Smaller gullies opened into it. Ruff stopped, knowing he had lost the trail. He strained his ears. He began to perspire. “Two of ’em!” he breathed. “Maybe more.” He mopped his forehead with a sleeve. : All about him was heat and silence. Back toward the body of Titanic Har- rison he crept. He made sure the giant was dead. A bit later he found where the bushwhacker had stood, but he found no empty cartridges. “Caught ’em in his hand,” he decided. He circled, cautiously at first, then more carelessly.. Time after time he showed himself without drawing fire. The brakes were so rough as to be almost im- possible for one man to search, To the southward they became the Badlands and the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, prob- ~ ably the most torn-up stretch of country in the world. A quarter of an hour of that and he heard horses galloping. He sought a small pinnacle quickly. Old Stan Yonkel, Silky Ed Crowder and the three Boxed-Y riders came into view. They thundered toward him as swiftly Hess nature of the brakes would per- mit. Ruff swore softly. “That about lets them out! They couldn’t have done it— they was too far away when I first heard their broncs.” — “We heard shootin’!” yelled Stan Yon- kel. “What happened?” Ruff let them come up. “Somebody bushwhacked Titanic Harrison an’ grabbed the girl!” He took them to where Titanic Harri- son lay, told them what had occurred. He showed them where the ambusher had stood, where the girl had been seized. He told how nearly fatal the hanging trick had been. Gathered around the body once more, Silky Ed Crowder whispered something in an aside to Stan Yonkel. The rancher whispered back to the foreman. Ruff scowled at the byplay, started over. Instantly they both drew guns and coy- ered him. “Get the six in his shirt!” grated Stan Yonkel. Gomichboo