Cowboy Short Stories, November 1939 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

SPAWN OF THE GUN-LOBO “Callon’s his hero. He’s the hero of every boy in school. They worship Callon, be- cause he’s wild and irresponsible—every- thing a good man shouldn't be. If some- thing isn’t done soon, every one of those boys will grow up to be like Callon!” “I reckon Jack’s got a plumb good start headed fer the owlhoot!” Frane admitted. He addressed the boy, “So you don’t think much of me?”’ “Naw, I don’t! I’m plumb put out that I didn’t kill you! Callon’d have patted me on the back!” He ignored his sister’s horrified exclamation. “I reckon you're the next who'll be goin’ to boothill. There ain't nobody in the world as good with a gun as Callon!”’ He spat importantly and stalked away. Frane turned to Lois. “You see now why we're so anxious to clean up the town!” she said, her voice quivering. ‘‘It’s bad enough when the des- pertadoes ruin grown-ups, but when they start in on the children—that’s a thousand times worse! And a great many men here admire Callon in the same way. Some of them are in with him. Nobody knows who all of them are, so the honest men are afraid of a vigilante organization—they might include a spy, and Callon and his men would wipe them out like the mur. derets they are! But if Callon and Hardell were retnoved— They've either bought off or killed every man the mayor sent for to do that job!” ‘How about the sheriff ?”’ Frane asked. “We have no sheriff. Nobody will run— and even if they did, Callon would see they didn’t remain a lawman long! desperate, Mr. Frane! If something isn’t done soon, this town will become alto- gether outlaw, and the few decent people here will have to leave! And—my brother Jack—he’ll become an outlaw—” Tombstone Frane’s face was emotionless. Lois looked at him, striving to pierce the squint-slits which concealed all his thoughts and even the color of his eyes. The som- ber hardness of his jaw frightened her a little. “Don’t worry, ma’am!’’ was all he said. He was upon the point of saying more, some other word of comfort, when a horse- man tode up. A red-faced, smooth-shaven man in his middle age; a fighter, Frane divined by the tight line of his jaw. “Tombstone Frane? Welcome to Mon- tana, an’ to Selby. I’m Mayor Thomp- It’s. 79 son!’ He spoke with a soft accent that branded him a Texas man. His look swept from Frane to Lois. ‘What're you doin’ here, cousin? Hadn’t you better be back in the schoolroom ?” “Jack played hookey today, and I was looking for him. He laid for Mr. Frane and tried to shoot him! Callon put him up to it!” Frane saw tage, carefully checked, in the mayor’s face. ‘‘Run along now, cousin,” he directed. “I'll see to Mr. Frane. HE girl left. Halfway through the weed patch she looked back over her shoulder—back at Frane’s face. Even at the distance, Frane could see the flash of her eyes. And a caressing interest that roused his pulses. It was seconds before he caught the thread of Mayor Thompson’s conversation. “, . . . The railroad wants to build through here, but the officials are afraid the roughs might wreck the station an’ do other damage. So we sent down to Arizona for you. Callon an’ Hardell are the main desperadoes here; the rest are toadies, an’ with Callon an’ Hardell out of the way, the town would be all right. It would be safe fer the railroad to build through. As it is, if things ain’t tamed down, they aim to build their line fifty miles north, around Gold Butte. . . . Figger you can handle things?” ‘Always have!’’ Frane returned lacon- ically. “Yore reputation seems that-a-way, Mf. Frane. I understand you've got plenty of outlaw notches in yore gun. Yore life’s been pretty rough, I'd say!” “Too rough! I’m settlin’ down after this job; got a ranch in Arizona I’m payin’ on. I figure with the money I get from this job, T'll be able to put my full time in on thet ranch. Got a mortgage big enough to choke a horse on it, but I can work that off, with any luck an’ a good calf-crop. Nope, I reckon after this job, unless I have bad luck on the ranch, I’m hangin’ up my guns fer good!” “Matryin’, mebby?” suggested the mayor, smiling. ‘We have some nice girls around Selby. Or mebby you're already harnessed ?”’ “Nope. Still rovin’ with the wild bunch. But I aim to get married some time, meb- by!” He added, under his breath, ‘An’ mebby I’ve found the girl!’ “Wall, luck to you. But be mighty cate- CoOnniclooo S Go