15 Western Short Stories — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

oN RAW-RED LAW OF man, you don’t have to fight a war with women.” “A woman makes a better spy for a job like this than a man. She isn’t in any danger if you don’t give the thing away. Go in like you were drunk. Make a bet or two and let the woman know why your're there. She'll find some way to pass her in- formation along. We've got to know before morning, Dan. When they hit, they'll hit hard, and if we don’t stall them, we’re gone.” “Where’ll you be?” “T’ll stay here,’ Masters said. “Get word back to me as soon as you can.” Casey nodded. “I’ve got a little matter to settle with Ricker.” “He’s a crook and a killer,’ Masters said savagely. “Captain Tilton is hon- est. He believes in what he’s dome, but I think Ricker would double- cross Tilton or anybody else if it paid him to go over to the other side.” ASHY SHOVED his way out of ‘the barroom and moved with the crowd toward the Alamo. As always, Denver was aboil this time of night, the streets thronged with miners in from the camps, prospectors, freight- ers, gamblers, invalids from the East searching for health, and knife-and- gun men on the lookout for a green- horn victim. But tonight, more than other nights, it seemed to Casey, an unusual ten- sioned tightened men’s nerve. An aftermath, he thought, from the news of Fort Sumter and the flying of the rebel flag over the warehouse on Lari- mer street. Elbowing and battering his way, Casey reached the Alamo and went in, lurching a little as if he were drunk. He saw Captain Tilton stand- ing at the bar, a slim gray-eyed man with a drooping mustache, a brace of guns on his hips and probably a pair of loaded cylinders in his pockets, dipped in beeswax and ready to in- sert. An honest man, Red Masters had said, and certainly a dangerous one. Casey ran into a drunk, pawed him aside and lurched on toward the three-card monte game. “Here you are, gentlemen,” the ex- pert was cajoling. “Ace of hearts is the winner. Keep your eyes on it THE REBEL LEGION 63 while I shuffle. Gentlemen, I’m bet- ting that my hand is quicker than your eye. Who is game enough to risk fifty?” Casey made a bet and lost and lurched on to a faro layout. Zane Ricker was dealing, a slim-fingered handsome man with a killer’s pale blue eyes. He saw Casey and flashed a grin, white teeth gleaming. “You busting the bank tonight, bucko?” he asked. “T ain’t lucky,” Casey said thickly, and reeled on. Red Masters had been right. Neither Tilton nor Zane Ricker would suspect that Dan Casey was doing a job for Gilpin’s volunteers. He was just another miner in from camp to buck the tiger. If he played his cards right, he’d get out of here before they guessed the truth. The roulette wheel was in the back. Casey glimpsed the girl, but he could not see her clearly, nor could he hear her above the orchestra playing “Yeliow Rose of Texas.” He worked his way through the crowd until he was within a few feet of the wheel. | He saw the girl clearly now, and even though her back was to him, he knew who she was, and the knowl- edge of her identity struck him like a slamming fist, blasting wind from him and paralyzing his belly muscles. She was Rose O’Hearn! | “Red on fourteen,’ Rose was call- ing. “Keep the ball rolling, gentle- men. Black on two.” For a moment Dan Casey was as drunk as he was pretending to be, but not from liquor. First it was re- lief that he had found Rose. He’d make her talk. Find out why she’d left Central City. Then fury roared through him. What was the use of asking her any- thing? Shed pulled out, left him without saying a word, left him to come to Denver to run John Tilton’s wheel. All right, darn her. She couid go on running it. He’d finish the job Masters had sent him to do, get word back, and light out for California like he'd intended to, Casey lurched up to the girl, mum- bling through thick lips that he was going to beat the wheel. She saw him, and color blazed in her cheeks, Red COMmiclbooks.€© inn