Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

3 as <2 , $ a. Vee ee letine = Pa Sos “Briefly,”” Quarles sneered distastefully. “Well then, that’s a pretty story, but you can’t prove it. It so happens that Trask an’ me just got run off the Broken Key by Dave Drings, for askin’ too many ques- ‘tions. Your proof, Mist’ Quarles, lies with Drings, not with us.” A rough murmur of agreement answered that; but the man. Pike continued to grease his riata. Sam considered tipping his hand all the way and disclosing himself as owner of the Broken ‘Key, but quickly rejected it. nephew of the man who had sold horses to the old Confederacy would automatically be condemned of furthering the fortunes of the reborn Confederacy. Quarles looked at the faces for support. “Tf we visit Drings again, all we'll get is the same old lullaby. I say, let’s string these two now as an example to all the others.” Sam Quinby played his last card on a long chance. - “Tf you want to visit Drings, you'll find him at-dawn in a vale about twelve miles north of here, fixin’ to jump a wagon train that’s bedded for the night.” It got the surprise that he wanted. “It’s a Santa Marta Mine train, bound past here for the river, and some Californians are with it. If they ever reach here, they'll settle here.” Even Trask was startled to hear that. Quarles studied his jury again, and knew that he’d lost. The men wanted to ride. But still Quarles delayed with, ‘“‘There’s no proof of what Medary says. He’s prob- ably decoying us into the hills so Drings can hit somewheres else.” - And Sam got angry. “At the risk of my life? Is Drings worth that to me?” He pushed with his elbows and confronted Quarles. “If your proof lies. }?? with Drings, so does mine! The jury was for it. striding out to the racks to take their horses. Quarles suddenly whipped out his gun and held it on Sam. “You'll ride right in front of me, all the The * “aimed at his back. He supposed not. Men were already ee a AE ie ea AR ees ae Aires aie , en FIFTEEN’ WESTERN TALES way.” He waved the muzzle toward Trask. “And you'll ride beside him, all the way.” Trask stared accusingly at Sam and in his expression was written, Now look what you've done... . Sam muttered, ““You know more about Drings’s habits than I do.’’ He was indif- ferent to the accusation, he had more reason for- returning to that wagon train than he had for staying in town. As they filed out of town into the dark- ness, Pike kept flicking the end of his riata at the prisoners, as if to get accus-— tomed to the feel of their skins. He kept doing that until Quarles, surly of mood, commanded him to stop it. The rest of the posse was strung out behind, their horses heaving and straining on the steeper grades, hoofs clicking and girths whispering. Sometime after midnight they came to the place where the man with the Spencer had thrown down on them. Below in the - vale, weak’ moonlight showed the wagon. hoods as gray blobs. “Well,” Quarles whispered, “where’s Drings?”’ He motioned to Pike, who closed up with the rope. “He'll be here before dawn.” .And Sam added silently, J hope. His thoughts went to the dark-haired girl who undoubtedly was sound asleep in a wagon bed, wrapped in a dream fabric of a new home this side of the mountains. He wondered if she had thought of him at all, the young Southerner who’d winked at her when a Spencer was. He told Quarles, “The best thing to do is lay for ’em here an’ then cut ’em off. That way, the gun fire’ll be diverted from the wagons.” He didn’t want that girl to get hurt. Objects were becoming distinct now. Tree boles shone with the dawn dampness ; hides glimmered brownly. Quarles’s fea- tures eroded from the grayness—nose, beard and shoulder, cut there like stone. Then a rasping, “Hsst!” ripped from the further trees. Every man braced himself, “ecomicbooks.com