Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

FIFTEEN WETRN TAL showed clearly in his bloodshot green eyes. A bearded man in a red shirt stepped from the crowd. He had a saddle rope in his hand. A couple of strides and he was along- side Beaver Smith. The noose dropped over the head of the terrified man. The crowd surged around. “Not that, men!” called Prsiesace Con- way. Slight of build, he was the last man among them you would expect to display leadership. And perhaps it was that very shock of surprise that checked the lynch mob. “You're forgetting, men,” he said calmly, “that there are women and children watch- ing from the wagons. If such a thing must be done, let it. occur after nightfall in the darkness. I’d suggest jailing him in his precious Whiskey Wagon—after destroying the barrels of whiskey, saving only what might be needed as medicine.” “Damned if the doc ain’t right!” said one of fhe older, saner men. “No use in scarin’ our wives and younguns. They’ll see enough hell without that. “Yonder comes the Bar.R remuda. Let ‘em in. And hooray for Dan Wyeth and the sorrel-haired gal in the buckskin dress. Dunno who she is, but she stands higher than a deck full of aces. My hat’s off to you, lady.” And he pulled off a battered hat with a sweeping gesture. A shout went up from the crowd. As Beaver Smith was being hauled away and his flea-pickers roughly disarmed, the crowd cheered Natalie Wyeth. But Beaver Smith, something of his first fright gone, was not done yet. giant strength he shook off the men who were holding his arms. Waving his long arms, he raised his rasping voice in a loud cry of blustering indignation. 3 “VYou’re condemnin’ me without a hearing. You're takin’ the word of a young killer, Dan Wyeth, who was run out of Texas. And the woman with him is a wanton—a woman of the streets, a robber-of drunken men. She’s called the Six-Shooter Queen of With his Abilene. If you don’t believe me, ask the long-geared preacher that come from the Mormon wagon train! He’ll give you her proper name and—” | The roar of a gun cut short Beaver Smith’s words. He gave a wild scream of pain and blood gushed from his mouth. He plunged backward, screamed again, and then lay still. , The badly-wounded Mormon who had struggled from his improvised litter was standing on wobbly legs, a smoking six- shooter in his hand, a queer smile on his bearded, half bandaged face. Then the gun that had shot Beaver Smith slid from his hand, as he swayed and fell to the ground. Nat Wyeth, who had been standing near, white-lipped under Beaver Smith’s loud ac- cusation, ran to the Mormon and eased him back on his litter. “It was a pleasure—to stop his mouth— . with a bullet, ma’am. I got a wife and two younguns. Safe in Trinidad—thankin’ your courage—God bless yeu—lady.” And he was dead. ED RILEY and three of his men were ~ driving the Bar R remuda inside the circle of wagons. The red-haired trail boss rode up. ; “What are you standing around for, men? You have work to do before the Injuns at- tack. Flour and sugar is good to eat but in the sack they make good breastworks to stop bullets. Fill the gaps between the wagons with the stuff. Where’s Dan Wyeth? . Where’s that greasy thing that calls him- self. Beaver Smith? What’s wrong here?” Little Professor Conway acted as spokes- man. Briefly he told of the exposure of the wagon train guide. And Beaver Smith’s ugly accusations against the girl in buckskin. How the dying Mormon had shot Beaver Smith. “Dan Wyeth took the girl into his tepee,” finished Professor Conway. “The girl Beaver ‘Smith called the Six-Shooter. Queen of Abi- (6(0) JOOKS ANIC ° (E@)