Fifteen Western Tales, January 1953 — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

“Since when do you coyotes do my fighting for me?” Clayburn asked. BUSHWHACK BARGAIN Fie. oe. —— ww “. srg tes eal af Se By RICHARD FERBER A killer-for-hire and in need of a job could hardly turn down that easy offer to make himself a hundred dollars .... merely by shooting an unarmed lawman right where his suspenders cross! ESSE HARDER tied the sorrel pony to the rail and took two long steps across the walk to the swinging doors of the saloon. Inside, he paused briefly, his tall, angular body relaxed, his eyes moving lei- surely about the almost empty saloon. Be- hind the long, wooden bar, the barkeep watched him indifferently; the two other cus- tomers, storekeepers by their dress, turning momentarily to scrutinize him. Harder moved up to the bar, nodded his head at the barkeep and dug in the pocket of his jeang for a coin. He found one and felt it tenta- tively. Except for a few smaller coins, it seemed singularly alone. This would have to be a fast job. . ‘“Where do I find the sheriff of this town?” he asked casually. The two storekeepers turned to eye him again, “Tf you mean old man Clayburn, -stran- ger,” one of them said, “he’d rightly be sleep- ing this time of day.” A good idea,” Jesse said. ‘You a friend of Mark’s, son?” the store- keeper said. Jesse laughed a little. Despite his forty years there was always some old man to call 35 COMmMiCOoOokkSs.CO inn