Fifteen Western Tales, January 1953 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

46 | FIFTEEN WESTERN TALES Valverde seemed to read Clinton’s mind. When they had dismounted, he waved a hand towards the ramshackle buildings and corrals and smiled. “Tt ain’t much,” he admitted, “but I got business that keeps me away a lot. I need a man to fix up those corrals and to look after the stock.” A frigid interest seemed to enter those expressionless eyes. “You'll earn your keep, son.’ Young Clinton said nothing. He’d just wait and see. If the job was bona fide, he’d - stay on. If it was charity and pity, he’d pick up his saddle and start walking. ... i na ae had a partner, name of Duke Bedford. He came out of the house, yawning and stretching as if he’d just roused from a deep sleep. He listened while Val- verde said that he’d hired a hand. Then Bedford said: “We don’t need no hand!” | Ernie Clinton pulled up short. He was carrying his saddle to the saddle shed and Bedford’s statement halted Clinton in his tracks. Valverde said something soft itch, Clin- ton could not understand. Then Bedford spoke again. He had a high, twanging voice that carried afar and he was making no effort to keep it toned down. “Vou gone soft, Val? Give the kid a meal and then tell him to move on. We got no need for no hired hand.” Wrath and resentment ran through Clin- ton. Carrying his saddle, he walked over to the two men. He felt. Valverde’s eyes flick at him with something more than im- personal in them but young Clinton was not interested in that. He knew only the swift coursing of the anger in him. Bedford looked at Clinton with uncon- cealed contempt. Something of a dandy, his high-peaked stetson was cream-colored and he was wearing a flashy red plaid shirt under a brown and white calfskin vest. A blue silk scarf was tied around his neck. His trousers were pearl gray in hue and the legs were tucked into the tops of ornate, white- stitched boots. The gunbelt slanting across his waist also had a lot of white-stitching and the .45 in the holster had an, ivory handle. However, despite this fanciness of appear- ance, Bedford’s clothes all carried a layer of dirt. It was stuck on like grease, on his hat and vest and shirt and trousers and on the skin of his face and hands. It was as if Duke Bedford had never heard of washing. Young Clinton directed his words at Bed- ford. “I wouldn’t take a hand-out from you if I was starving,” and, as if in mockery, Clinton’s stomach gave a twinge. He shoul- dered his saddle and started away. “Hold on, son,” said Valverde. “I thought you were soing to give the job a try. Now you’re walking off without so much as seeing what it’s like.” Clinton’s stride broke; he stopped. But he kept his back to them. Valverde said quietly, “You re not being fair to me, son. If you hadn’t told me you were taking the job, I'd have gone on to town and hired myself a man. Now I’ve got to make that trip all over again.” Clinton turned and lowered his kak to the ground. His eyes were defiant as he stared at Bedford. “I won’t stand for no shoving around,” Clinton said stiffly. “Vou won’t be shoved around,” said Val- verde. “I rod this place.” A small, ugly smile played with Bedford’s lips. “Don’t be a fool, Val. What do you know about the kid? What’s he like? How do you know you can trust him? Besides, we don’t need no help.” For the first time, a bit of emotion showed on Valverde’s face. The line of his jaw tightened and his voice came quietly but with a deadliness to it that was like a knife- point jabbing against a rib. “I’m rodding this outfit, Duke. Any time you don’ t like it, you know what you can do... Binie Clinton never saw too much of Val- verde and his partner. They were gone al- most every night, returning at dawn and sleeping most of the day. It was in the eve- nings before he rode off that Valverde gave Clinton his instructions for the next day. The job seemed genuine enough to young Clinton. The ranch apparently had been neglected for some time and he never idled for lack of something to do. He repaired the sheds and the corrals. He kept an eye on the stock. The place really needed a hand and Valverde and Bedford seemed to have no time for it. Still, Ernie Clinton could see no point to it. The times were bad and beef on the hoof was practically worthless. It certainly did not pay any one to keep a hand on at an outfit like the double V. Wages had not oO COMmichooks.c©