15 Western Short Stories — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

60 WESTERN SHORT STORIES mounting, almost savage joy in hold- ing his pipe there against all-comers. Heat came in blistering gusts from the warehouse. Between times Sam could make out the men around him. Just once Pete MHurrell’s intense, sweaty face swam close and then fad- ed off in the struggling mass. Rooted there at the cistern with both hands gripped to the pipe, Sam experienced a sudden, oppressive sense of danger. He knew the pipe would lash high and away if he re- leased his hold for a second. To hang on—anything might happen in a me- lee so wild that no man could know who was responsible. Sam was well trapped. Lucifer— Nora—the crew—none would under- stand if he released the pipe. He had no reason to, except for the flash of naked hatred he’d seen in the eyes of Pete. And Pete was lurking now in the swelling crowd at the cistern. eases came first; a mighty clap of crumbling joists as the warehouse roof collapsed in an in- ferno of timber and merchandise. Hosemen and shingle-eaters were driven far back and a wave of intense heat washed over the men at the cis- tern. Sam felt as if his face were bursting, peeling away. He caught a glimpse of the big Ten Engine blun- derbuss breaking free from the cis- tern and hurling its pipe man into the retreating crowd. Lucifer formed a new line, mar- shaled volunteers for another assault on the building. His “blood” was in the job at hand. His force carried strength and truth to men who were on the thin edge of panic: if they stood fast now, the holocaust couldn’t spread. Sam saw and understood and held the pipe with his last ounce of strength. His water coursed up through blunderbuss and hose to where Lucifer had made his stand. He glimpsed Pete Hurrell . only briefly before he heard his words. In the scorched and jamming crowd swirling once more around the cis- tern, Pete was suddenly beside him. “This is for Nora, Mr. Buckskin,” he said clearly. There was a swift lick of steel as the knife darted. Sam sucked in his belly and twisted half away. Then Pete was gone. The blade caught lay- er flesh on Sam’s thigh and held. Sam felt the pipe leap upward in his weak- ened grasp. He threw his weight against it once more and his cry brought Lucifer charging toward him, grabbing powerfully at the pipe.... HEN SAM awoke at the fire- house he saw. the Foxtail tied proudly to Halloran’s hand engine. He also heard the celebration that others for blocks around were hearing. He was stretched out on a cot. It was somehow a familiar and sweet awakening for Samuel Morrey. He knew before he saw the girl that she would be somewhere close. She always was. And then she spoke. “It’s past time to wake up, Sam. There’s a party running.” Sam shifted to look at her and winced at the deep, sharp ache in his side. The girl moved around into his line of vision. She slipped a hand into his. “You get into terrible troubles, mis- ter,’ she said. “Because I like it so fine when I wake up,” Sam grinned. Lucifer Halloran appeared over him. “The fire is out,’ he announced, “The Foxtail is where it rightly be- longs and how is the scratch you got?” “Dr. Haley said the scratch was inches from killing him,” said Nora indignantly. Lucifer’s eyes had a merry gleam in them. “My daughter, the man would not dare to die, with you hanging on to him like that.” “Where is Pete?” Sam said quietly. Lucifer sobered. “Nowhere about since the fire and it’s not like him.” But the flicker in his eye told Sam that he knew, and that he knew too that Pete would not be “about” any more. After Lucifer had gone, Nora said, “They’re taking you to the house af- ter the celebration. Father ordered it, just till you get well.” “Tll likely languish,” said Sam, “for some years.” “A man who takes the Foxtail has certain prerogatives,” said Nora Hal- loran with a wide, warm smile. COmiclbooks.€©