Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

>, ae ey ot ns Pe eae ea = a “102 _ FIFTEEN WESTERN TALES mother to point a long, bony forefinger at Nat. : “You!” he shouted. “Witness the result of your sinning! Behold the handiwork of your erring ways! Aye, the sins of youth are suffered by those poor, unfortunate parents who brought them into the world. Behold your mother, shameless hussy; I say to VO. Dan’s face went white as he understood ‘he preacher’s harsh words were directed at Nat. -He leaped forward and would have laid rough hands on the man had not his sister thrown her arms around him and held him back. " “It’s Uncle Luther, Dan!” she said tense- ly. “Don’t fight him!” But Natalie had another champion. A wounded man on a home-made litter strug- gled to a sitting posture. He and the preach- er had been brought here in the Bar R bed- wagon, refugees from the Mormon wagon train. “Hold your long tongue, you blackleg shikepoke. And thank that girl for savin’ your life. Only for her, your lousy scalp would be hangin’ from a Comanche belt. She found you unconscious and risked her life to get you to the Bar R camp! “This girl you are accusin’ warned our train that the Comanches were comin’ a week ago. Gave us the chance to get our women and children safe to Trinidad. Say another word against her and I’ll shoot you.” Luther Gregory’s long arm in its rusty black cloth dropped slowly. The fire went out of his bloodshot eyes. His long frame seemed to wilt like some gaunt reed gone limp. He sat down weakly on the wagon tongue, as Beaver Smith, half drunk, came pushing through the crowd. A stifled cry came from Natalie as she shrank behind the wagon, pulling Dan with her. “That man in buckskin, Dan,” she whispered. ‘“What’s he doing here?” “He’s the captain of the wagon train— Beaver Smith. What ails you, Nat? Did Uncle Luther res Nat shook her head. was smeared with war paint, but I knew he was no Indian. I’d swear it.” “Red Riley told me how to read his brand,” said Dan. “Think Smith will rec- cognize you?” | “J don’t know. The raid was at night. He wasn’t the only renegade white among the Indians. I fought for my baby. Your Beaver Smith was the leader.” “He’s due for his dose of strong medicine - when Red Riley and his cowhands git here.” “Red Riley is coming here now?” “Sure thing, Nat. He’s fetchin’ the Bar R herd up the trail. Didn’t you see him at their camp? Didn’t anybody tell you who was ramroddin’ the Bar R outfit?” “No. We were all too busy to talk, Dan. You don’t have much time for introductions during an Indian fight.” She smiled ‘faintly. The color had come back into her face again. ‘ “You ever meet Red Riley, Nat?” “I’ve met him, Dan. ... If there’s going to be fighting, I need a rifle and some car- tridges for my six-shooter.” Dan wanted to ask Nat more about Red Riley, but he sensed that his sister didn’t want to talk about the red-headed trail boss and he wondered why. And now the unpleasant nasal voice of | Beaver Smith could be heard. “Git the wagons drawed up in a tight circle. All stock corraled inside. Gita hump | on you, and quit millin’ around like scared sheep. I’ll go in amongst you with a bull whip, if you don’t rattle your hocks faster., Grab hold of them wagon tongues and pull. the wagons by hand. Close up the gaps in_ between with rocks and brush and stuff from. “your wagons. Use everything that’ll stop a bullet or arrow. You, you, an’ you, stand guard. No more ‘stock inside the circle ex- ceptin’ our own.’ “Yonder comes the Bar R remuda; Beaver. | COMM ELOOOLK<S “Dan, that buck- skin man was with the Indians who raided _ a wagon train I was with, a year ago, when © my baby was tomahawked and scalped. He | €o = = : x ¢ . z > o > » é 7" 3 ey mM or a