Fifteen Western Tales, January 1953 — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

GUN-MEETING AT MIDNIGHT | 95 went up to press down on his shoulders. “T want to be honest, Steve. With you, and with myself—and with Con.” “That’s woman talk,” Steve said quietly. “Tt doesn’t say anything.” He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her stiffen in his arms. “Steve! Please be fair!” She was on the verge of tears, he knew, but something deep inside him goaded him on, something born of his sickness and hunger for her and the nearness of death. “Fair!” He tried to choke back his bit- ter laughter and could not. “Fair, Iris? Is it fair to keep a man waiting two years?” She pushed his arms away from her, stood quite still before him. “Please try to understand, Steve.” “T understand, all right,” he said. “It’s a little late, but I understand. You were just marking time with me while you waited for Con.” “Steve!” “Tt’s true. Admit i.” “No! It’s not true!” “You said you'd never got over Con.” “T didn’t say that! I—” He laughed shortly. “And all the time you knew I was putting damn near every dollar I earned into the old Frazee place. You didn’t figure I aimed to live there alone, did you, Iris?”’. “Steve, you've got to listen to me.” “Sure,” he said. “I'll listen, [ll listen real hard. For about ten minutes. Then I’ve got to go out in the street and play games with Con Pardee. He sent word from the Inferno that he'd meet me in front of there at midnight. I don’t mean to keep him watting.”’ She clasped her hands in front of her so tightly that the knuckles showed white. “Steve, you can’t go through with it. You and Con were friends once. How can you—why must you want to kill each other ?” | | “Why? Because it has to be. Con’s fast- er than I am, Iris. You don’t have to worry much. I'll be the one to die, not Con.” “Oh, Steve! You twist everything I say around to please yourself. I can’t stand the thought of either one of you being hurt!” “You were. going to do some talking, | Iris. I’m listening.” HE was silent a moment. When she spoke her voice was soft, almost tone- less. “With you, Steve, everything has to be either black or white, right or wrong, yes or no. Can’t you understand how it might be different for some people? How it might be with me and the way I feel to- ward you and Con?” | “Go on,” Steve said drily. “Tell me how hard it is for a woman to resist a hand- some, wealthy, smooth-talking gent like Con Pardee. That’s something I can really understand, Iris.”’ Her shoulders seemed to slump beneath the thin material of her dress. She let her breath out slowly. “It’s no use, Steve... I—” Suddenly her hands came up to her face and she wes crying. Her whole body shook. ‘ Almost instinctively, Steve stepped close and took her in his arms. He’d been a fool. A damned, crazy fool! He was seeing the woman he loved for the last time—and yet he'd made it a torture for both of them. Why had he wanted her to suffer? Why hadn’t he been man enough to face the facts,. the way he was man enough to face Par- dee’s guns? Why in hell hadn’t he stayed away from her? He put the tips of his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. He said, “Good-by, Iris...” and kissed her. Her lips were moist and warm—and there was the taste of her tears on them. Her rounded young body was smooth and firm in his arms. He drew her to him, pressing the yielding curves hard against him, almost lifting her from the floor. Slow- ly, her arms came up and fastened around his neck. Her lips moved beneath his own, hesitantly at first, and then with a demand- COMICOOOkKKS. CGO inn