10 Short Novels Magazine — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

the Devil’s Ear. We'll Ruff gave the man who approached a glare that stopped the fellow in his tracks. “What kinda horseplay is this?” Stan Yonkel looked him up and down wrathfully. “I guess we savvy this whole thing, now!” “Yeah, ” leered Silky Ed Crowder. “It musta been you who grabbed old Zeke Mc- Cann to learn where the Devil’s Ear is, and laid the blame onto the Broken-Stir- rup outfit. Dunno how you learned about d that out later. If you’re Zeke’s grandson that'll explain it. Anyhow, you killed Harrison before we ever found you!” “We're takin’ you to the sheriff for kill- in’ Titanic Harrison,” growled Stan Yon- kel. “Titanic must’ve learned your game.” “You’re locoed!” Ruff protested angri- ly. “T tell you somebody salivated Titanic arrison an’ grabbed the girl!” “Girl probably wasn’t around at all,” sneered Silky Ed Crowder. “You heist your dewclaws!” CHAPTER IV BLASTING DEATH Wi they had him disarmed Ruff tried again. “You jugheads! That girl is in trouble! She was here. I’ll show you her bootprints!” “T saw them bootprints!” Silky Ed Crowder growled. “They looked to me like your own!” “Let’s measure ’em,” suggested Stan Yonkel. They went down the gully. Coming in view of the spot where Dawn Lorde had been captured, Ruff stopped. His face purpled. He cursed his captors loudly, bitterly. “T’m seein’ some things now!” he snarled. “Some of you walked on them rints, blotted ’em out! You’re trying to rame this whole mess onto me. You’ve got some men in your outfit I ain’t seen. You had ’em plug Titanic Harrison an’ grab the girl.” “That’s a lie!” roared Stan Yonkel. Ruff glared at him. “You got more men in your outfit, ain’t you?” “Two,” the old rancher snapped. “But they’re at home.” Ruff gave a shrug that shook his en- tire head and shoulders. “All right! All right! You’ve got this mess hogtied onto me.’ “C’mon,” Stan Yonkel ordered. “We'll take ’im to the sheriff.” Ruff began, “That girl—” “Shut up about that ot ust yelled Silky Ed Crowder. “She wasn’t here.” “Wait a minute,” interposed Yonkel him tery Ronge * * 77 “We'll make sure the aa is safe before | we take this feller to the law.” Silky Ed Crowder scowled, then bright- ened. “Sure. We'll hold this jasper at the Boxed-Y while some of us rides over to the Broken-Stirrup to see if she’s there.” Ruff ran a rowdy gaze over the group. He wasn’t so sure now this gang was framing him. If they were going to make sure pretty Dawn Lorde was safe before they took him to the sheriff .... “In case the girl is missin’, this gink probably put her outa the way,” said Silky Ed Crowder. So that was it! Ruff crushed his teeth together so hard the enamel squeaked. He Jet them push him through the sage with Winchester barrels to his buckskin bronc. “How about my saddle?” he protested. - They escorted him to the waterhole for — -his saddle, Not certain it would do much good, he displayed the slashed cinch. “Hm-m-m!” said old Stan Yonkel. He looked at unmistakable evidences of a fight in the waterhole. “Looks like you maybe did tell part of the truth.” Silky Ed Crowder finished repairing the slashed latigo strap, swung the rig on the buckskin. “We’ll leave him at the Boxed-Y¥ an’ some of us’ll go see about the girl!” Ruff scowled as he settled into the kak. This talk about going to see if the girl was safe had him puzzled. There was something back of it. Or maybe these Boxed-Y hombres were not framing him. It was bafiling. He mulled over the thing as they rode southwest. The Boxed-Y was a horse outfit. Ruff learned that when he came in sight o the corrals and saw the chutes fitted with squeezers. The buildings squatted on the south side of a butte, baking in the aft- ernoon sun, basted with the gray dust of the brakes. Two punchers came out of the low bunkhouse door as the group rode up. Stan. Yonkel squinted at Ruff, spat. “These are my other two hands. If that girl was kidnapped as you claim, they couldn’t have had a hand in it.” Ruff surveyed the pair. One had his shirt off. The other was carrying a finished horsehair hatband he had been braiding. “Listen, old-timer!” Ruff eyed old Stan Yonkel steadily. “You’re either tryin’ to kid me, or you’re kiddin’ yourself. If you’re on the up and up, you sure better fog over to the Broken-Stirrup an’ see about that girl. Somebody grabbed her, I tell you.” Silky Ed Crowder shot a pointing arm at the sod-roofed log ranchhouse. ‘You hold ’im in there, Stan. Me an’ the boys’ll VOOLKS COMMUG (C@)