Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 11 of 101
15 Western Short Stories — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is story prose from a Western pulp fiction magazine. The narrative follows a character named Bob who confronts Luke and Pete, suspected cattle rustlers, in a hidden canyon corral. Bob discovers McLeod's stolen cattle but is caught in the act by the two men, who are armed and have him at a disadvantage. The scene depicts an tense confrontation where Bob attempts to claim the cattle as McLeod's property, while Luke and Pete maintain they legitimately raised the animals. The text appears mid-story, showing escalating tension as the armed rustlers question Bob's purpose and whereabouts of their employer, McLeod.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
TOUGH, HE SAID HE WAS dens sneaked and stole cattle, and no one dared call them thieves to their face. Henry Mueller would steal Mc- Leod’s ranch, and no one would call him a thief, either. He couldn't do anything about Henry, but he could sure get back his own from the Glid- dens. On the ridge overlooking the val-— ley where the Gliddens had their cab- in he paused to consider. The rage had burned out, he was shaky and sick-feeling now. He was remember- ing the flat, expressionless eyes of the Gliddens. If they spotted him snooping around, they might shoot before asking questions, and nobody would be the smarter for it, everybody would think he’d ridden out of the country. Maybe Luke and Pete weren't there, they might have started to the mines by now. He wondered why they didn’t go directly, and decided they were afraid McLeod would catch them from behind when they were driving the cattle. It occurred to him Luke and Pete must be pretty simple-mind- ed; they’d tried once before to get away with McLeod’s stock, and now they were trying again, but leaving tracks all over the place. But being simple-minded wouldn’t keep them from being dangerous. Ta WAS no sign of life from the cabin, and no stock at all in the valley. They must have the cattle in their hidden corral in the side canyon. He cut into the timber below the crest of the hill, his spine stiffened against the imagined shock of a bul- let. He kept telling himself that the Gliddens were human, they wouldn’t cut him out of the saddle without warning, and sometimes he believed it for a few seconds. The scuffling of his horses’ hooves through the pine needles seemed to echo from the op- posite canyon wall. When he reached the rim of the draw where the Gliddens had their hidden corral, he dismounted and, ri- fle in hand, went forward Indian- fashion, dodging from tree to tree. Finally he dropped and crawled to a spot where he could see down into the corral. The cattle were there all vight. ii Three cows and one calf. The carcass of another calf was hung from the limb of a pine. The Gliddens had done a little butchering for themselves. “Looking for something, Sonny?” a voice drawled. Bob, shocked speech- less, twisted to look over his shoul- der. Luke and Pete, their jaws rhy- thmically working tobacco, were sit- ting their horses up-slope, thirty paces away. Each had a rifle across his sad- dle-bow. Bob scrambled to his feet, leaving his rifle. He was so scared he could feel sweat break cold along his shoul- der-blades. He was cold turkey, no matter what he said or did, the Glid- dens had the play their way. He won- dered if McLeod would have craw- fished here. His throat was dry and his voice squeaked. “I was looking for McLeod cattle. Seems like I found them. In that corral down there.” Luke grinned and looked sidewise at Pete. “Pete, where did you get those cattle?” “Why, Luke, you know doggone well we raised them from calves. Durned near broke my heart when we had to butcher the spotted cne.” Luke shook his head at Bob. “Seems like you got the wrong idea.” “All I know is,” Bob said stubborn- ly, “I trailed these cows off the Wish- bone. They’re the same cattle I helped put up there last spring.” Luke looked sorrowfully at Pete. “See here, Pete, the boy thinks we’re rustlers. Are you a cow-thief, Pete?” He turned suddenly toward Bob, his rifle barrel arcing forward. “Where’s McLeod?” “Why—McLeod was busy, He sent me instead.” “That so. Well, you go back and tell Mister Big John McLeod that there ain’t any cattle over here except the ones that belong to us.” Here was his out. He could get on his horse and ride, forgetting about the cattle. It was a lot better than be- ing dumped here for the coyotes. He took a step to one side. “Maybe I’m mistaken,” he said. “But those look like my cows to me.” He whirled and jumped down the slope, hit and cCOMmicbooks (CO