Cowboy Short Stories, November 1939 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

ee FIGHTING COWARD 55 Leeann eee eee eee ere errr reer troublin’ you—it ain’t as bad as you're imaginin’ it! .. . You're jokin’, Dan!” “I’m serious, Pop.” A second peal of thunder rolled toward them swiftly and burst, just overhead, and Dan glanced up at seething, churning, jet- black clouds. Rain spattered blackly on the dusty walk and a horse snorted loudly as the cold drops stung him, Dan said, ““My mind’s made up. You want the spread?” | Pop shrugged. ‘‘Well, now... O' course I want it, Dan. But—lord! I'd have to think it over some...” Southward along the street a screen door slammed and a girl in a pongee shirt and tan whipcord riding breeches came briskly past the corner of a store, her high-heeled boots making a quick rhythm on the plank walk. It was June. Pop Turner saw her past Dan Coward’s shoulder and felt a thrill of pride in her. Dan had not turned. “O’ course, if you're sellin’, the logical thing is fo’ me t’ buy; I see that. Wouldn’t want just any Tom-Dick-or-Harry borderin’ my range ... But—hell.. .!” June’s footsteps, nearer, filled the pause, Turner's face froze. “Good god-a’mighty, Dan—look there!’’ Dan wheeled. June, turning toward the hotel steps, smiled up at him. And back of her a great black dog came loping straight across the dusty street, head swinging low, jaws slavering ... The collie dozing under the buckboard yonder stood up to make a friendly overture and the black one slashed at him viciously, without a sound. The collie’s yelp had the ring of deadly terror in it. His hackles rose. He turned, and ran. ‘‘Mad dog!” Pop Turnet’s yell followed the instant knowledge in Dan’s own mind. He’d never seen a dog gone mad before, but—this was it! Spade Malone’s dog—big, surly devil— mad! He’d heard somewhere that mad dogs fear water. Perhaps it was true; perhaps the dog was running from the rain. June reached the steps and Turner yelled at her. But it was Dan who leaped and caught her arms and flung her into Turner’s hands. And, as he leaped, he swept his Stetson off his head, making a glove of it. The hat, with Dan’s left fist behind it, drove out straight into foam-flecked jaws; for the dog had leaped without a pause, growling. The slaver from his jaws stained June’s short skirt. Dan’s blow went to the throat, hurling the beast aside and down. As he fell, the dog snapped sideways, like a wolf, his poison teeth ripping the felt of Coward's hat. A gun barked heavily and Turner found time to wonder how Dan had man- aged to draw so swiftly. One shot—the red flame licking down into a tawny chest—and that was all. Dan turned slowly, wiping the slaver from his hand ... And Turner saw that that hand was clean; unmarked. The dog had missed! Pop gulped, seeking for words. Dan sheathed his gun. The hotel door burst outward suddenly under the impact of a hard-driven shoulder and Dan’s eyes lifted instantly, traveling past Turner. Pop saw Dan’s lips draw thin and tight. Malone stood just outside that door, crouched low, his elbows bent. He wasn't handsome now, at all. His face was flushed and oddly twisted; and his eyes were red— like the dog’s eyes had been when he leaped... “You killed him!’ Malone’s voice was low, rasping, as if the words choked him. “Killed him t’ get even with me for last night! Afraid t’ tackle me—you killed my dog!’ “It wasn’t that. The dog was mad!” “You lie!” It was insane of course; yet it was real. Malone’s right hand struck down, jerking his gun. Dan saw the deadly purpose in Malone’s red eyes. Pop Turner yelled. Dan lunged straight out, shooting his fist to Spade’s jaw. His left shot home. The quick spat-spat of fists on flesh was sharp and clear. Malone went back a pace, head rolling under jolting blows. He fell... and Dan stood over him. Pop Turner knelt and snatched Spade’s gun... It struck Dan suddenly that he was not afraid! Waiting for Spade to rise again, he knew a poignant hunger for more battle! He hoped desperately that Spade would rise! All fear was lost, this time, in the wild savage thrill of fighting; of solid blows well-targeted. He thought, “Maybe I've never been this mad before!’ And was amused ... Malone stayed where he fell. He’d had enough. Boots thudded heavily along the walk and Dan turned to face a growing crowd. A dozen men had materialized out of nowhere CoOnniclooo S Go