2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

14 tling charge. The hope was gone now. “You don’t miss any bets, Jack,” he said bitterly. “Eli could have blown your whole range-grabbing scheme sky-high if he’d talked, so you had to shut him up for keeps.” Sawdey’s face darkened. “Don’t try to shove your killin’s off onto me! My opinion is, you're loco, cuttin’ loose like you done just to help a busted-down old rustler like Tatum.” He lifted his voice. “Come in an’ get ‘em, boys! We’re makin’ another trip to the Golden Lady—an’ this time Rocklin won't be bustin’ up the play!” Men tramped into the shack. Jed paid no attention to them. He was looking at the dead puncher, star- ing woodenly at the bluish-gray mud that clung to Stratton’s boots, trying to grasp the meaning of it.... HE GROUP of riders climbed the tailings dump in the warm sun- shine. Jed was in the middle of it, his hands tied behind his back. Saw- dey had his remaining puncher, Matt Kelley, with him. Cline Wymer was in the group, thoughtfully silent. Sam Farlew was along too, pulling often from a bottle and not at all silent. “Gives you a final lesson,” Farlew said, “about what it buys you to go helpin’ cow-thieves. Soon’s we string you up we'll go after Tatum.” “Sam,” Wymer said irritably, “shut that mouth of yours.” The group dismounted. Kelly shook out his rope and looked up at the headrig, muttering that he’d have to climb up and make a secure tie. Sweat beaded the puncher’s face. “Hell, let’s get this over—’’ But a grizzled head lifted into view, in the manway at one side of the shaft. Old Jump Tatum rested a sixgun on the planks of the shaft collar and shouted, “Reach ’em, boys, high as you can! Happens the sign’s right for a hangin’ this time, but you got the wrong man!” In a flat silence the group faced the oldster. Wymer made a small sigh that might have. been an expression of relief. Sawdey’s throat muscles worked, but fury had robbed him of his voice. ‘“That’s the ticket,” Tatum crowed. 2-GUN WESTERN “Take it. right careful—I’ve clumb six hundred feet on those ladders an’ I’m tuckered, an’ my finger’s shaky on the trigger. Jed, I thought your head was busted, so I drug you to that bunk an’ lit out for town, where I hired a man to ride for the doctor down in Tres Orejas. ’Fore I left that line cabin I noticed some- thin’, though—blue clay on Stratton’s boots! Come to me all at once, that the only place where there was clay like that was in the seam of it that we hit on the lowest level of the Golden Lady. “When I went into the mine to sée what Stratton had been doin’ here I found Lucy on the first level, tied up again. What she had to say was plenty. Stratton wasn’t workin’ just for you, Jack—him an’ Denn was takin’ pay from another party. The three of ’em grabbed Lucy an’ put her in the mine. Then Stratton was told to knock a shoe from his horse an” leave a plain trail that would lead you to a place where you could be killed, Jed. That went wrong, though—I got Stratton with your rifle, just after he downed you.” Black Jack snapped, “Who’s this other party you're prattlin’ about? Why would he—’” “Gold,” old Jump said, “has bought a lot of murder in this here world. He’d had Farlew workin’ in the mine on the sly, an’ his dynamitin’ made what Jed thought was thunder, be- cause he was atthe end of a tunnel that reaches plumb under Jed’s place. Struck it in there, he did! Jed owned it, so he had to be got out of the way. I owned the mine entrance, so that wrote out my ticket. The man you want, Jack—” There was a sudden movement in the group under the headrig. Cline Wymer’s gun came almost clear of its holster—but then his body was jolted back, first by lead from Jump’s gun, then by Sawdey’s bullet. Wymer twisted, a look of despair on his face, and sprawled on the weathered planks. Sam Farlew, thoroughly sober now, stretched his hands higher. “I ain’t armed!” he cried. “All I done was (please turn to page 30) COPMICLOOOKS (E@)