15 Western Short Stories — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

98 WESTERN SHORT STORIES — 19th YEAR! with right hand. Has unique trick of flipping guns into air when one goes empty... The flames were dancing crazier than ever now. He was trying to line his sights up on the silhouette that he knew was Masden. He thought he could feel ese gun buck in his hand and Masden jerk, but he couldn’t be sure, because the flames were dancing around crazily, and whirling, and whirling... He woke up with the smell of medi- cine strong in his nostrils, and the cyuxious laxness in his body that comes when hurt and pain begin to subside. Beth was there, and for awhile she kept her cool hand on his forehead. Then presently she left and Sheriff Hawkes was standing beside him. His right arm was bandaged, and his seamed face looked white and drawn. He looked old and tired. “That charge of yours was all I needed,” he said. “I got a couple of them myself—and some of the towns- people pitched in and helped. We got "em all—even Hank.” “Hank?” THE PRONTO KID COMES HOME Kid felt the bullets searching for him as he went forward, a devilish grin on his lips, weaving, dodging, his gun jumping and kicking in his hand. “He heard Big Mitch yell as he cut one of the gunmen’s legs from under him. Mitch, the big, dumb cluck, one arm hanging limp, fighting like a fool! One gunman broke and ran, fol- lowed by another. Belder must have seen the handwriting on the wall. But he had too much at stake to stop now. His face was distorted and there was an insane look in his eyes as he came toward the Kid, his six-shooter blast- ing. The Kid felt lead rip his side, then he fired again and Belder was no longer marching toward him. The man turned around and began walking er- ratically back up the street. But he stopped rather suddenly and his legs ipmmed to rubber, The smoke still swirled, but it was quiet now and the Pronto Kid looked at Big Bitch, at the twisted grin on the big mans bearded face. Mitch said, “Mebbe I evened up a little for The lawman nodded. “I unlocked his cell—when the fire got hot. He tried to fork a bronc during the ex- citement. I yelled at him to stop, but...” He shrugged, and was silent for a moment. ‘“Reckon it’s a good thing you got Masden,’ he said slowly. “He plenty crooked, but the main thing we had on him was the murder of a dep- uty sheriff named Joe Kirby. And when Kirby hisself shows up alive and kicking—well you cain’t make a murder charge stick. I got to go down and clean out my desk—burn a lot of old reward dodgers. Hurry up and get well, Kirby. Me and Tumbleweed City need you.’ He walked away quickly, as Beth came in. “He talked like it was just the town that needed you. There’s someone else, too.” “No,” said the deputy sheriff known as Joe Kirby. “It’s me that needs you.” “We can’t start off with an argu- ment, she said, her eyes shining. So she fixed it so he couldn't argue, by pressing her lips to his. @END (cont’d from page 81) shootin’ off my mouth; mebbe you ain’t sore at me now?” | The Kid put his hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “I ain’t sore, you ornery cuss, and now, you better be ridin’, That marshal is headin’ down this way.” Mitch glanced down the street, then back to the Kid. “You ain’t com- . in’ along?” The Kid shook his head, a strange expression on his face. “I’m callin’ it quits, Mitch. They can’t give a man much time for stickin’ up a couple of gamblin’ joints.” “A few years,’ Mitch said. “Then what?” “After that, I’m comin’ home, Mitch, to stay! And to be that big rancher my pa figured I was!” The big fellow swallowed hard. “Tl miss you, Kid. But I’d go batty makin’ horsehair bridles, so I’m rid- in’ on. So long.” “So long, Mitch,” the Kid said, and walked down the street to meet the marshal. @END cCOMmicbhoooks.c© was |