Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

Quick Sixes 79 neared the door, Vestry caught the man’s arm. “Mac, tell Travis I want to see him after Dean has gone! It’s im- portant!” | The deputy nodded, swung the barred door shut, and walked away. It was some time later when ae opened the door of Vestry’s cell. “You wanted t’ talk t’ me, Jim? What’s on your mind?” “This, Tom!” Vestry’s voice was low but it was filled with an eager intensity. ““That Weston jasper was in Dean’s office, like I said! Dean was lyin’! JI didn’t dare talk any more while Dean was listenin’, but here’s the truth: Weston and Dean was fixin’ it up between ’em to stage that holdup! I didn’t see enough to be sure just what it meant, at the time, but I knew somethin’ was in the wind, so I stuck around! Dean planned it himselfy sabe? He must be short on his books and doped out the robbery to clear himself! How ‘much does he claim he lost?” “Close t’ sixty thousand es “Wait, Jim! Dean’s goin’ to meet the holdup men to-night to get his split of the loot! You let me out o here and ride with me where I tell you, and I’]l prove I’m tellin’ you the truth!” Travis stood. up. “Son,” he said, “I was hopin’ I was wrong about your bein’ mixed up in this thing, but this cinches it with me! Accusin’ Dean because he’s accusin’ you is about the weak- est sort o’ tale you could figger out, Jim! I’d ’a’ expected better of you! And if you think I’m goin’ off on a wild-goose chase with you, and give you a tailor-made chance t’ get away from me, you're crazy, that’s all!” “You think I’m lyin’! Travis shrugged. “TI ain’t blamin’ Only you 1°? you for lyin’, Jim. might’ve done a better job of it He turned toward the door. “So long, feller. I wouldn’t tell that story in court, if I was you. It’s too durn thin.” A hurtling weight struck Travis squarely between the _ shoulder blades, and he went down heavily beneath an avalanche of arms and legs. Vestry had leaped straight forward from his crouching posture on the cot as Travis reached the door, and the two straining bodies flung the door wide open as they fell. There was a moment or two of straining effort. Vestry’s right fist came free at last and whipped up to land with a thud on Travis’s jaw. The sheriff relaxed instantly, his head rolling back. Vestry sat on his heels, panting a little. Two heavy Colts lay in the holsters at the sheriff’s hips, and Vestry lifted the weapons, sliding them into the empty leathers where his own guns had been. Travis opened his eyes and stared at him. “You'll never get away with it, Vestry!” he said. “You ought t’ know that!” Vestry grinned. “Don’t bet on it, Tom!” he said. . “I always liked you, but you’re a bull-headed old coot, and I aim to handle you accordin’! If you got any ideas about lettin’ out a yell for help, think again! Next time I hit you, I'll wrap a gun barrel around your ivory dome, sabe?” They slid out into the pitch dark- ness behind the jail, followed the al- ley for a little way until a narrow space between two buildings gave access to the street. There were horses there, and Vestry, chose two; forced his prisoner to mount. They rode out of town together—two vague figures in the darkness, head- ing north. conieooks.conm