Cowboy Short Stories, November 1939 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

66 COWBOY SHORT STORIES thing to you, not even to save Lauty from a hang-noose. So I told ‘Uncle Crow’ and he dusted out to the Leaning G to try to head you off.” ‘Soon as I got wind of all this,” cut in old Moss, ‘‘I smelled me some skunk close to home and went lookin’ for Grizzly Po- cock. When I couldn’t locate hide nor hair of him, we all started hell-bent for Bullpine Meadows. That's how we come to be cross- in’ the coulee when the fireworks started.” “Little Jeff McLeod was the best friend | ever had, Mary,” Gil said quietly. ‘“Laury didn’t kill him, That lump of buzzard bait lying there bushwhacked Little Jeff. He boasted of it.” Mary gave a glad little cry, then instant- ly sobered. “Gil,” she whispered brokenly, ““did—did— ?” “You all stand hitched a minute,” told them. He wobbled across the coulee and knelt down in the shadow of a sumach bush. Laury Randall looked up at him with fev- ered eyes. “You Gil Norcross: 2” he asked weakly. “Yes, amigo,’ Gil said. ‘Sis rode out to the hideout this eve- ning,” the youngster went on, “trying to get me away and wanting the riding habit and side saddle I stole from her when Padway craved a good disguise and cut off my whis- key money till I kicked in.” He choked then went on. | Gil ‘Sis said you were her man. I laughed that off with my face—but not in my heart. That’s how come I tied your wrists so loose. When the shooting started, I figured it must be you, so I done what I was able.” His head fell back limply over Gil’s arm. “Norcross,” he whispered. “You be kind to Marty!” “Depend on that, amigo,’”’ Gil told him hoarsely. Norcross climbed the slope and made sure Grizzly Pocock and “Patch” were dead. Then he rejoined the others and laid young Larry Randall’s body gently on the ground. ‘‘Mebbyso it’s better this way,” he mut- tered. “But if Laury hadn’t sided me in this fight tonight, I'd be where he is.” ARY was gazing down wide-eyed on her brother. Gil swung on Crowley. “One thing’s puzzling me some, Crowley,” he said. ““Mocho Speet’s dying words was— ‘He was chain lightnin’, Crowley.’ How do you account for that?” Duke Crowley’s jowls quivered. “I was forever guying that tramp,” he admitted, “telling him that on the draw he was slowet’n a cow pulling her foot out of a bog. Reckon it preyed on his mind.” But Mary Randall had had enough. She reeled against big Gil Norcross’s shoulder. He picked her up, stepped into the saddle, and with Mary cradled gently in his arms headed at a walk for the Leaning G. I TALKED WITH GOD fyes, | did—actually and literally) and, as a result of that little talk with God some ten years ago, a strange new Power came into my life. After 48 years of horrible, sickening, dismal failure, this strange Power brought to me a sense of over- whelming victory, and I have been overcoming every undesirable condition of my life ever since. What a change it was. Now—lI have credit at more than one bank, I own a beautiful home, drive a lovely car, own a newspaper and a large office building, and my wife and family are amply provided for after I leave for shores unknown. In addition to these material benefits, I have a sweet peace in my life. I am happy as happy can be. No circumstance ever upsets me, for I have learned how to draw upon the invisible God-Law, under any and all circumstances. Advt. You too may find and use the same staggering Power of the God-Law that I use. It can bring to you too, whatever things are right and proper for you to have. Do you believe this? It won’t cost much to find out—just a penny post-card or a letter, addressed to Dr. Frank B. Robinson, Dept. 720-11, Moscow, Idaho, will bring you the story of the most fascinat- ing success of the century. And the same Power I use js here for your use too. I'll be glad to tell you about it. All information about this experience will be sent you. free, of course. The address again—Dr. Frank B. Robinson, Dept. 720-11, Moscow, Idaho. Copyright 1989 Frank B. Robinson. CONMIGC 0)(0)) S (C@