Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

PA Ta WAR AT SPANISH WELLS party of hostiles. We cannot outrun them with the horses tired as they are.”’ “Damn you, Dennehy! You question me? I'll rip those stripes from your arms!”’ “Tt is your privilege, sir,” answered the veteran quietly. “Boots and saddles.” “Yes, sir!’ Dennehy turned on a heel. His face was tense with restrained rage. Dane took his pipe from his mouth. “Stuart,”’ he said. Clifton ignored Dane and turned to Marion. “You'd better mount, Marion.” Dane walked forward. “A word with you, Stuart,” he said quietly. Clifton turned. “What do you want?” “A few words—no more.” Clifton smiled thinly. “All right. But not here. I have my position to keep.” He walked quickly around the rock shoul-. der beyond the rock tank. Ten pairs of eyes swiveled toward Dane as he followed the tall officer. A hundred yards from the tank and out of sight of those beside it, Stuart Clifton turned. “Well?” “You'd best listen to Hank, Stuart. He knows the Mohaves as. few men do.” “Probably had a Mohave _ squaw,” sneered Stuart. 3 “T wouldn’t know. He was paid double for his services against the Mohaves three years ago and received a letter of commen- dation from the department commander himself. He knows his business.”’ togt | “Stay here for the night and rest your men and horses.. Push on several hours before dawn and hope to God you don’t get ambushed.” _ Clifton rubbed his jaw. “So you can talk to Marion, is that it?” Dane flushed.. “I have no axes to grind, Stuart.”’ , “Marion is to catch a steamer at Fort Yuma for passage down to Port Ysabel to pick up ship for New York. They won’t wait for her at Ysabel.”’ | » * ee Tp by > : = oe ae ae ¥ a PS = a ee ee ee, a i a © en ‘ “oY LAS YOU r t wee a 73 “Tt would be better if she did have to wait rather than fall into the hands of the. ~ Mohaves. That’s plain, isn’t it?” Clifton laughed. “Get out of my way, you thief.” Dane gripped the tall officer by the front ° of his shell jacket. “T’ve killed many men in the laa: ten years, Stuart. Don’t push me too far.” Stuart's right hand slapped across Dane’s face in a quick one-two. Dane shoved him back. Stuart fumbled with the flap of his holster. Dane drove in a left to the gut and followed with a jolting right cross that sat Clifton down hard on the ground. Dane Placed his hand on the butt of his Colt. “Don’t try to draw, Stuart,” he said quietly. “I have nothing more to lose in this life. Killing you would mean little.” He turned on a heel and walked back to the tank. The troopers eyed him. Clifton appeared a moment later. His face was white and set. “On the way, Dennehy!” he shouted. . “Mount!” Butt’s smashed against saddle leather. The men eyed their commanding officer enigmatically. Marion Lake stood by her mare. Hany Mooney squatted in the shade ten feet from her, stolidly chewing his cud. “Marion?” asked Stuart as he stood by his horse. “T’m not going on, Stuart. Those men are worn thin. I’m tired. Don’t you think we'd better wait until tomorrow ?” “You, too?” Stuart shot a bitter look at Mooney. “I suppose you shot off your big mouth, Mooney ?”’ y ‘ae “T've_a good mind to straighten you out.” Hank shifted his cud. “Now ain’t that nice? What with? Fists? Rifles? Pistols? Broken bottles? Knives? Or maybe a shot in the back?” Stuart Clifton’s hands shook. He looked back at his men. There was not one friendly look among them. Dennehy wiped a grin | y <SiiEO s 2. 4 Com cbook —— |S Fe <> ne a Ps ‘ . ~~ eet hot » — >. ro - <j a, eae a Le ae ee we ee = ee et ee eS oe