Cowboy Short Stories, November 1939 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

FIGHTING music and laughter and the rhythmic shuffle of dancing feet. Pop Turner had hated the idea of turning his outfit into a dude ranch; swore hed never give up cows to “ride wet-nurse on a bunch 0’ city slickers!’’ But June had per- suaded him, and the profits of the experi- ment were lifting the Ninety-seven out of dangerous proximity to red ink. A girl in a short white coat and a man in black came past the corner of the main house and strolled toward the horse corral, and Dan’s right hand, poised to strike the match for his smoke, halted. The girl was June Turner. ! He couldn’t see her face against the light, but he recognized her wrap. . . . And the man—was Spade Malone. There was no question about that. Spade’s left knee was slightly stiff from a bullet wound acquired in a gambling brawl. And Dan could see that this man limped. June Turner and Spade Malone! It was generally known that the man who gave Spade his limp would have been justi- fied if he had more nearly centered his target. Spade was that kind of a gambler. .. . And there was talk, too, of woman- trouble back of the gambling quarrel. Some- thing about the loser’s wife. . . . He was the loser, too; more ways than one. Spade was a finished gambler in a school where the .45 was better than Hoyle, and the man who knicked him was dying with Spade’s slug in his chest when he drove his own bullet into Spade’s knee. And June! Strange that she'd fall for such a man! Malone was handsome, yes; but he was mean. Cruel. Given to sudden, insane rage. Angered, the man was dan- gerous; as dangerous as the ugly wolfish dog he had for a pet.... The couple halted at the corner of the horse oral and Dan could hear their voices in a low intermingling murmur. He stood in the shadow, unconscious of his eaves- dropping until it was too late. ... The gitl’s white coat stood out with painful clarity against the dark, so that every move she made was clear. She leaned toward the man, lifting a face that was a ghostly blur in the moonlight, her white sleeves raised, circling Malone, pulling him down to take her kiss. . . . Dan turned, tip-toeing silently toward the barns. It was an hour later when Dan Coward joined the crowd in the main house and he was still sick and strangely numb. He knew what he had seen, and he knew what COWARD 53 it meant. June was not a girl who gave her favors lightly. ... And she had given them. She had gone into Spade’s arms willingly, and more than willingly. ... Pop Turner spoke to him as he entered the house and Dan nodded without actually hearing Turner’s words. He said, “I’m leavin’, Pop. Feel sort of—whipped. Ridin’ this afternoon, and all. ... Tell June—” “Why not speak for yourself, John Alden?” Dan turned slowly, unwillingly, to meet June Turner’s level eyes.. There was laugh- ter there, and open friendliness. But Dan said woodenly, “I’ve got to go. Sorry...” “But Dan! You haven’t danced with me! You can’t go without dancing with your hostess! .. .” She stopped, looking beyond him at the crowd. Dan was suddenly aware of silence. He was turning even as Malone spoke to him. Malone stood facing him, his hands hidden behind him, grinning. Back of Ma- Ione the crowd stood motionless, all eyes upon the group there in the doorway. “Fve got a little present for you, Cow- ard,’ Malone said softly. “I’ve been tellin’ the folks about your nickname—the one we called you back in school. ‘Kitty’ Cow- atd. They wondered why we called you that. I’m—showin’ ’em!”’ His hands came forward suddenly, swing- ing a cat. He tossed it straight at Coward’s face. . Dan heard a voice—his own—jagged and horrible. The cat brushed past his face and dropped to his shoulder, its claws digging. He struck at it—flung it aside. It fell, hiss- ing, back arched, its hair on end. He kicked at it. A wave of laughter hit him like an icy wave. He turned blindly, head bowed, and lurched outside. Behind him, he heard Ma- lone’s voice lifting above the crowd’s laugh- ter. “ ‘Kitty’ Coward! You see, folks? It fits! Kitty—Coward!”’ In the deep shadow beside the bunkhouse wall Dan found a bench and sank down on it, shivering with a reaction that was like a chill. He knew, tonight, what hell was like! Seeing June Turner in Spade Malone’s arms ... and now—this! Before them all! Before June, and June’s friends! And his friends, too; his neighbors. .. . They'd laugh at him; despise him. They couldn’t understand a thing like this; they couldn’t know the awfulness of a sick, mad fear you couldn't fight, couldn’t control. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to control GOMIGIOO S Go