Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

“Well?” he whispered to the sick “man. “This is Tyson, son of the man you killed,” Jerry put in. The habit of defiance was firmly fixed on that man. It maintained itself even in this moment. He turned his too-bright eyes on Tyson and kept them there. “Tt was all fair enough,” he de- clared in a light voice. “Your father tol’ he to stick up my hands. Nobody but a—a Well, he made-a mistake in tellin’ me to do that when he didn’t have no gun. Long ago I promised myself I wouldn’t be took alive, red-handed. I turned an’ plugged him.” For a space, Tyson seemed unable to find words. The dying man’s proud, cruel assertions angered Jerry. a little. “You was took red-handed up at the mountains,” Jerry said. “Oh, I didn’t think that mattered. Cow stealin’ ain’t nothin’.” “Little you know about it,” said Parks bitterly. “Them fellas that you was with found it was some- thin’.” “Did you string them fellas up, jus’ for the sake of a few cows?” the man asked. “Ain’t you a puncher?” Parks inquired. “Naw. I ain’t never worked since I can remember. I’m a rider. I’ve rode in ev ry State where a man can ride free an’ easy.” “Why did you go to the post office?” Tyson demanded. | “T was lookin’ for a letter. Virlee wanted me to get it for him.” “Then you know Virlee.” “Fella, I was short o’ money an’ sick, so I joined up with this outfit. I had knowed Red Horner——” “Fella that calls hisself Blackman here?” | “Yeah. That was Horner’s little Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine joke, account his black horse an’ his black clo’es. Horner was the name I knowed him by in Montana. Well, Horner said I couldn’t work alone, cept as an odd job come up. When the post-office job come up, he tol’ me to do it. I said I would when I met the man I was workin’ for. Red’s a pretty good fella, an’ he sent me right in to see Virlee. I guess he wanted to show Virlee that he could be independent, if he hadda. “Virlee tol’ me that he was ex- pectin’ a letter to come to the post office for Parks. He wanted to get the letter. I went to the post office five times in the night but found no letter. Las’ time Virlee said mebbe it was in the safe. He said no Barking Dog rider had been re- ported to him as bein’ in town for a long time.” “T see how that was,” Parks said. “Somebody seen me mail my letter to your father, Jerry. Then Virlee wanted to get the answer, to find out what I was up to.” “Virlee gen’ally had a man hangin’ around the post office, especially when the mail come in,” said Tyson. “You remember, Hawley, a watcher was on the job first time I met you.” “What else do you know?r”’ Jerry put in. “Do you know who killed Treece or King?” “Don’t know a thing about the King business. I s’pose Virlee had King killed. They was pardners. Virlee ain’t the kind of man that likes to spht profits. His profits was growin’ but so was his expenses. I guess he figgered there wasn’t enough comin’ in for two.” “What else?” Jerry asked. SUDDEN change came over -the man. His __ strength seemed to merease. He raised himself on an elbow and stared at Jerry with eyes that now