2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

16 with her and tell Ella what's hap- pened. I’d hurry there myself, but I have duties here.” “Tl ’tend to it, Jim.” The man moved away. Ancther townsman spoke: “You've plenty to do, Lanwell. Wolf Clade has killed four men—two witnesses, and the sheriff and his chief deputy. That leaves you in charge. Clade has boasted he'll kill others. You—little more’n a button—how’ll you handle Clade? You wouldn't be holdin’ down a deputy’s job if you hadn’t married the sheriff's daughter. Well, don’t just stand there! What are you aimin’ to do about this?” Lanwell looked at the speaker— Ed Swall, an uncouth middle-aged man who had wanted a deputy’s job and been denied. “I’m not needin’ any talk from you, Swall,” Lanwell said. “The sheriff said to get Clade. I'll carry out orders.” “You'll go after Wolf Clade? That's enough to make a man laugh. ~You ain't got guts enough to run down a chicken-stealin’ coyote.” Some man yelled: “Let’s get a posse together! Let’s stuff our pockets with gun shells, and hit our saddles and run down that mur- derin’ madman!” Lanwell raised his voice. “That’s not the way. Wolf Clade would spot a posse miles off. He knows this country—every hill, canyon = and arroyo. I aim to go after him alone.” “When?” Ed Swall taunted. Without replying, Lanwell turned to consult the doctor. The sheriff’s body would be taken to the room behind the doctor’s office, which was used as a mortuary, the young deputy was assured. The coffin- maker would do his work. Every- thing would be ready for the funeral the following day. “IT must go home and Ella,” Lanwell said. Men stepped aside pass. He strode alohg the sidewalk in front of the business establishments. His heels thumped the boards in un- broken rhythm. Streaks of lamp- light came through the windows of the saloon and revealed him as he passed. He went on into the moon- comfort him plank town's boot- to let 2-GUN WESTERN lit night, toward his little house on the slope behind the street.... E KF HAD BEEN at home with - " #Ma when it happened. He had becr: wiping dishes for her, manner tender because the couple expected their first-born in three months or so. They had heard two shots, wild yells, then the pounding of a horse’s hoofs. “Trouble down Ella had said. Jim had wiped his hands on a towel quickly, and was buckling on his gunbelt when a man came run- ning to the door, “Shootin’ scrape! Jim!” he had called. Lanwell had kissed Ella swift- ly, and started running down the slope with the man who had come for him. “What’s happened?” he had asked. “Didn’t want to tell you in front of your wife. It’s the sheriff. Wolf Clade—” That had been enough; it had ex- plained everything to Jim Lanwell. Five years before, Clade had been sent to prison for stock theft. Like many criminals, he had threatened to square accounts when released. That had happened before Jim Lan- well had come to town to work for the blacksmith, to meet and marry Ella Borson and become a sheriff's deputy. Two months before, Clade had been released. He must have had stolen money hidden somewhere for he had bought a horse and gear, a couple of guns and ammunition and groceries, and had taken to the hills. From another town, he had mailed the sheriff a letter. In it, he threat- ened to kill the sheriff and chief deputy, who had gathered evidence against him, two witnesses, and all the surviving members of the jury. It had been more than a wild threat. Clade had killed the two wit- nesses within a week, Then he had killed the chief deputy. Now, he had killed the sheriff. And he would hunt down and kill the others if not stopped. All the killings had followed a in the _ street,” You're needed, Gomichbooks his © (E(@)