Pulp Fiction, 1934 · page 89 of 148
Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 89: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: "Fugitive's Return" This page contains story prose from what appears to be a Western pulp fiction tale titled "Fugitive's Return" (page 87). The narrative follows a character named Jade, who has just learned that Ab Ferris—a man Jade believed he killed—is alive and jailed for an unrelated murder. Jade experiences conflicted emotions: relief at his own safety, bitter satisfaction at Ab's predicament, and unexpected loneliness that draws him toward Ellen, daughter of a local squatter named Seams. The text explores Jade's internal conflict and his decision to visit Ellen's home as evening falls.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Fugitive’s Return 87 pushed him off is Knife Edge Trail. There’d been bad blood be- tween the two of ’em for months, threats had passed both ways, and Ab was up on the Knife Edge Trail that night, and there was a bullet missing from his gun. “Not but what this Jade,” the sheriff added, “got his deserts, for I'd bet my last red cent that it was him who helped, at least, to rob the bank, that night. Still, all in all, a life’s a life. Ab’s got to pay, and all these trials he keeps insistin’ on won't help him any. He'll swing I reckon, after this jury sits. The only thing could save him now would be Jade Holloway come back from hell and say Ab never done it. And even if Jade could, and if Ab hadn’t, I’m bettin’ that Jade wouldn’t do it. As I was sayin’, there was plenty hate between-them _ two.” Then Mel broke off to look at Jade and say: “Why, Freed—why, man, what’s up? You’re white as paper. Are you sick?” ~ Jade shook his head, fighting for control. “No, not a bit of it. Just struck me queer, that’s all—me be- in’ sent out here to him, and him locked up. Mebbe I’m §supersti- tious.” Jade held his breath. Had he betrayed himself? It seemed he hadn’t. The sheriff said: “Lupe Smith might help you with your cattle. See him at the Palmer House. Tell him I sent you. Well, guess Pll run along now to my supper. Be seein’ you again.” Jade gained the street, his thoughts awhirl. Ab Ferris, here in jatl, because he’d killed a man who wasn’t dead at all! And Ab might swing! For just a moment, the thought struck horror to Jade’s soul, and then he saw poetic justice in it, after all. Ab was a crook; he should have been in stony lonesome long ago. Ab was responsible, too, for what Jade had done, responsible for all the suffering of these last three years. Or so, at least, Jade told himself. He even laughed, a dry and mirthless chuckle, to think that he was home here sound and safe to spend his whole remaining years, while Ab, who for so long had held the upper hand, was going to swing. T had been a full, exciting day, ] and Jade was weary as he reined his mount into the last short stretch of trail which led him home. And yet for all his joy at being back again; the fine elation that he felt at having passed the acid test for which he had prepared so long, knowing that he was safe in Windy Basin, there was still a little clutch of loneliness at Jade’s heart. It was not compunction, he made sure of that, for in his heart ‘Jade felt that of the two of them, Ab Ferris was the man to die. But somehow, suddenly, Jade longed to hear his mother’s voice, to feel the soft touch of her hand. The notion came that another woman’s voice and touch might serve instead, and interwoven with the thought was the recollection of a girl. Ellen, her name was, daugh- ter of Seams, the old squatter who had taken up a patch of land not far from the Circle Dot. The trail that led to Seams’s mean shack lay near at hand—perhaps the very thing which had fostered Jade’s whole thought of loneliness. At any rate, on sudden resolution, Jade swung his nag into the narrow track. Dark had already come, when he rounded the shoulder of a ridge and, looking down on the small green valley where Seams had filed his claim, saw the distant, steady gleam...