Fifteen Western Tales, January 1953 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

30 FIFTEEN WESTERN TALES | tattoo on the plank sidewalk that ran around the square. She rushed blindly, not knowing where she was going. Then she wheeled suddenly, held up her skirts above the dust of the littered street, . dodged between two teams, and started across the street toward the courthouse. In crossing she met Mr. Stapleton, the T & P stationmaster, who bowed and tipped his hat politely but she hurried past him. Zack Burnside, Andrew’s only deputy, also jailer, was alone in the sheriff’s office. Tilted back in his chair, with his feet on the desk, he was reading an E] Paso newspaper. She saw him gulp and hastily remove his booted feet from the desk. “Why, howdy, Miz Cameron. This here’s » a unexpected pleasure.” Zack said uncom- fortably. He lurched to his feet, removed his battered hat to expose a damp fringe of. mouse-colored hair around a bald pate of startling whiteness. “Ts Mr. Cameron around anywhere?” she asked, trying to smile. She never referred to Andrew by his first name in public and sel- dom came to the office. “Why, no ma’am. I’m afraid he ain’t.” Zack answered slowly. “‘Seems like he said he was goin’ over to Sam Sawyer’s liver’ stable. Somebody stole a set of harness off Sam th’ other night.” Something told her Zack was lying. An- drew was somewhere else, keeping an eye on Bob Dell, watching to see if Dell left town or not, making sure no trouble broke out. She came to the point with a swiftness that left Zack no defense. “How long did he give Bob Dell to get out of town?” Her voice was hard and-brittle. “One o’clock.” Zack looked distressed and fingered his bald spot nervously. Then he unconsciously hitched up the heavy pistol that sagged at his belt. He frowned and stared at the worn toes of his dusty boots. “What time is it now, Zack?” she asked. Zack tugged out a thick silver cased watch. _He sprung open the cover and deliberately studied the dial.” One minute before ten,” he said. Not many men had watches in Painted Rock but Zack was one who did. Clocks were scarce, too, in this frontier coun- try. Such things were expensive luxuries. An idea began to form in Mattie’s mind. “Do you think Dell will leave?” she asked quickly. “No ma’am. I don’t. ” Zack’s tone was blunt, his voice rough with some deep emo- tion. He continued to stare at his boots. “Then there’s no way to stop it?” she said hopelessly. Zack shook his head. “Not unless Bob leaves town before one there ain’t. Andy Cameron never changes his mind or loses his nerve. If Bob ain’t gone at one, he'll be right out there by them South steps, lookin’ for ’im, like he told Bob this mornin’.” He lifted his head and she looked into his eyes, eyes that held that faded, bleak look she saw in the eyes of so many Western men .. . and hated every time she saw it. 1 She tried another possibility. “Is Judge Musgrove upstairs?” She indicated the dis- trict court room on the second floor over their heads. The old judge, with his calm good sense, might know how to prevent the battle. “No, ma’am. Court ain’t in session. this week an’ I guess he’s out at his ranch lookin’ after things.” Zack took a deep breath. He went on. “I reckon I know how you feel, Miz Cameron. But they ain’t anything any- body can do t’ stop it. Andy told ’im t’ leave an’ if he don’t pull freight outa here by one —well—there’ll be trouble. But I'll be around t’ make certain everything’s fair.” He paused and looked away. There it was. The Western code. N obedy could interfere to stop a. gunfight once it was fated. All anyone could do was “be around to make certain everything was fair.” But there wasn’t anything fair about this. She knew it and Zack knew it .. . and Bob Dell * knew it. Wearily she turned away. ‘Thank you, Zack. It’s nice to know you'll be around . she swallowed . “To be sure everything’ S fair.” She went out, aimlessly and halted in the barren emptiness of the deserted corri- dor. Down the corridor, she could hear voices in the county clerk’s office but she knew no one there she wanted to see. One o’clock. The fateful words rocketed through her mind. One o’clock. One o’clock! One o’clock! Clock! Clock! HEN the idea came to her. A plan so desperate she hardly dared believe it might succeed. She darted a quick glance back into the sheriff’s office to see if Zack were watching her but he had already re- seated himself and was staring at the El Paso paper again with a troubled expression COmiclboo (Cc S