15 Western Short Stories — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

ONE AGAINST THE BLOOD-BOUNTY HUNTERS 75 him into Turk Brule’s power. Unrea- soning hate and rage were hammering at him. He wasn’t paying any atten- tion to what Brule and Rayder were saying now. He’d heard enough to fill him with an insane desire to kill them both. Powder Mace reared up, thrust head and shoulders through the open win- dow, the gun jutting before him. He said harshly, “You damn’ stink- in’ buzzards! The longer you stay still, the longer you’ll live. It makes no difference to me!” He had them cold. Jaws slack with ludicrous surprise, Judd Rayder and Turk Brule stared at the hot-eyed youngster. “Yella, huh?” Powder Mace sneered. He flung a leg over the low windowsill, and with a quick move- ment stepped into the room. Judd Rayder stammered, “How— where’s Torgin? Mace—you gotta lis- ten—I didn’t have nothin’ to do—” Powder Mace’s smoky eyes were welded on Turk Brule. He said, very softly, “Brule, get on yore feet.” Turk Brule licked his lips nervous- ly. “Don’t be a fool, Mace. We can straighten this out. Torgin musta mis- understood me—” “Torgin didn’t misunderstand you,” Powder intoned. “Get up, Brule!” Braced on powerful legs, Turk Brule got slowly to his feet. He said, “All right, Mace—if you want it that way...” Brule’s words chopped off, and he whirled away from the table, grabbing for the pearl-handled gun he wore. Startled, Judd Rayder squalled out a curse and reared straight up, dragging at his holstered gun. Momentarily, that saved Brule’s life. For the bullet that crashed from Powder Mace’s gun smashed into Judd Rayder’s chest as he reared up, driving him back against Brule. Brule cursed hysterically, bringing up his gun with one hand, while with the other he clutched at Rayder’s limp body. He swung Rayder’s body in front of him, using it as a shield. His gun blasted, and Powder Mace felt the fiery sting of the bullet on his cheek. He crouched, side-stepped, trying to get in a shot at Brule. But Brule turned with him. His gun snaked around Rayder’s body again, and flame lashed out like a red snake at Powder. Deliberately, Powder jerked trig- ger. Turk Brule cursed again, pain in his voice, and blood jetted out from the arm that held Rayder. Rayder wilted to the floor as Brule released him. Stripped of his shield, Brule stumbled back against the wall. Fear played over his dark face. The hyste- ria that was in Brule seemed to show in the erratic thunder of his gun, pewner fired—just once—and in the deep-throated bellow there was something final. Then Brule broke in the middle and wilted to the floor. Powder Mace stood there, gray gun- smoke coiling about his lean figure, his fierce passions already ebbing away. A voice screamed, “Look out, Pow- der—beiind you!” Powder Mace whirled, and from the tail of his eye he saw Nancy Rolfe in the open doorway. Nancy had a gun in her hand, and her dark eyes were wide with terror as she stared over Powder’s shoulder. Then, as his gaze found the window, an icy hand seemed to clutch Powder Mace’s heart. Jutting through the opening were the head and shoulders of Ike Torgin. Torgin’s bloody, grin- ning face was a gargoyle mask of hate and fury, and the gun in his hand was trained on Powder Mace. Powder didn’t have time to wonder how Torgin had regained conscious- ness and gotten back to the ranch so quickly, where he’d gotten the gun. He didn’t have time for anything. He jerked his own gun-muzzle toward the window, knowing that before he could fire Torgin’s lead would smash into him. He heard a gun blast, saw flame Spew across the room. He saw Ike Torgin fall back through the window and vanish. Unbelievingly, he looked at Nancy Rolfe. Smoke was curling from tne muzzle of the gun in her hand, and her eyes were riveted on Powder. Then she came quickly toward Pow- der Mace, and all at once she was in COMmiclbooks.€O©