15 Western Short Stories — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

ONE AGAINST Torgin backed warily away, a gun in his hand now. “You come with me,” “Where?” Torgin gestured vaguely. “Out there. Rayder and Brule say untie you. They say for me to ride apiece with you, to see you don’t start trou- bie,” Amazement hammered at Powder Mace. “You mean—they’re turnin’ me loose?” “Ain't that what I said?” Torgin asked impatiently. “Sounds crazy as hell to me, but Brule said do it. He say tell you mebby he’s been a little hard on you. But he say tell you to ride outa the country and never come back, or he’ll kill you next time.” he growled. OWDER MACE got to his. feet. He was bewildered by what was happening. It was crazy; it didn’t make sense--Turk Brule and Rayder turning him loose. Then wariness seeped into his mind. It was some kifla @f @ trick. They didnt aim te turn him loose. But this was no time to hesitate. This way, he might have a chance; bound hand and foot, he had none. He walked in front of Ike Torgin out of the room, along the corridor, and out- side. Two saddled horses stood there, one of them his own. Powder climbed into the saddle, watched as Torgin mounted the other horse. Torgin was grinning again in the moonlight. He gestured with the gun in his hand. “You go first,” he said. Powder Mace reined out onto the wagon trail. He could hear the clump of. Torgin’s horse behind him. He could feel the hot bore of Torgin’s dull eyes into his back. He knew that the gun was still in the squat man’s hand. His flesh crawled with the ex- pectation of lead in his back, but there was nothing he could do about it. Once, he looked back. The ranch house-was without sign of life except for the glow of light in a window. Powder frowned puzzledly. Even if _ Ike Torgin did aim to gun him in the back, this still didn’t make sense. They rode in silence. Death was close. Powder Mace knew that. A mile fell away- behind them—two miles.... THE BLOOD-BOUNTY HUNTERS ever since Ike Torgin..had_jcut hie 73 They came to a spot where the trail wound along a narrow, steep-walled canyon. Here, Powder Mace reasoned, it would happen. He darted a glance back over his shoulder. were hunched forward, the gun-muz- zle outthrust. In the squat man’s mud- dy eves there was a triumphant, feral light. Powder stopped his horse sudden- ly, and Torgin came alongside. Tor- gin grunted with surprise. “Why you stoppin’?” he growled. Powder Mace braced his whipcord body in the saddle. “You got the mak- in’s?” he asked. Torgin laughed, a venomous, wolf- ish sound that whipped a chill along Powder’s spine. “You won't need the makin’'s,”’ Tor- gin said. “Brule said to....” Powder Mace saw the gun jab for- ward, saw Torgin’s blunt finger tight- en on the trigger. Like a catapult, the Texan shot from the saddle. He heard the blasting roar of Torgin’s gun, felt the sear of powderflame on his neck. He saw the surprise on Torgin’s flat, snarling face. Then his shoulder smashed into the big killer’s stomach and drove him from the saddle as if a battering ram had hit him. His fall to the ground cushioned by Torgin’s body, Powder Mace rolled over, clawed to his feet and dove for the gun that Torgin had dropped; swooped it up, and whirled. But Ike Torgin lay motionless on the ground. Torgin’s head had smashed against a jagged boulder beside the trail, and blood was stream- ing down over his moon-splashed face. Torgin was unconscious, maybe dead. Powder Mace didn’t wait to see. Quickly, he stripped the cartridge- belt from about Torgin’s waist, flung it about his own flat hips. Fierce tri- umph was singing through him. Now he was free and had a gun; now he wasn't helpless. The freedom and safety of the rugged hills, looming over there in the moonlight, beckoned. He went to his horse. Bur FOOT in stirrup, he paused. Doubt was gouging at his mind. Something was whispering, as it had Torgin’s heavy shoulders | CO