2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

13 . “l’ll be up before daybreak,” he told her that evening. “You sleep late, honey.” “Where are you going? What are you going to do?” She showed alarm. “Have to meet a man. You bear up, Ella.” : He met Perez at the appointed place, and followed him along a nar- row trail which ran into a rocky gorge. ‘We dismount here, senor,” Perez said, finally.... HREE HOURS later, Lanwell loped back to town alone. He stopped at the house to eat, then hur- ried to the sheriff’s office. “There’s been a committee lookin’ for you, Jim,” the new office deputy reported. “Ed Swall and some of his cronies.” “What'd they want?” “Swall has been proddin’ folks to rile you. Sayin’ you should go right after Wolf Clade, and hintin’ maybe you're feared to do it. Says he should be named sheriff. He sent off a let- ter to the state capital “bout it.” | “Until I hear different from the capital, I’m actin’ sheriff. Tell *em that, if they come pesterin’ around here again,” Lanwell instructed. The office deputy’s voice lowered: “They’re comin’ down the -street now, with Ed Swall at their head.” Lanwell unbuckled his gunbelt and put it on the desk, He went to the open door and stood in it, leaning against the casement, calmly build- ing a cigarette. Swall and his half dozen close friends stopped in front of him as Lanwell thumbed a match and lit his smoke. “Where’ve you been?” Swall de- manded. “°’Tendin’ to official business, which is no business of yours.” “Prob’ly hidin’ so you can dodge that official business. We want ac- tion, Lanwell, and we're demandin’ it. A wild killer ridin’ the hills, and you standin’ here propped up in your office doorway!” “I’m comfortable this way,” Lan- well remarked. “You’ve got to swear in a posse and go into the hills for Wolf Clade! 2-GUN WESTERN I’ll round up some good men.” “No posse! Ride if you feel like it, but you won’t be sworn in. You'll be citizens, not officers, and if you meet up with Clade and kill him you can be tried for murder.” “What are you tryin’ to do, pro- tect Clade?” Swall raged. “A fine way for a deputy sheriff to talk!” “I’m settin’ you right by tellin’ you the law. A posse can’t do the work. One man alone might. I’m handlin’ this alone.” “When?” Swall taunted. “When I’m ready. Maybe five or six days from now.” “Why wait five or six days? What’ll you be doin’ all that time?” Swall asked. “Maybe searchin’ for trail, and maybe waitin’ for some information from certain sources.” “You're stallin’,’ Swall accused. “You'd be scared to take Clade’s trail if .you found it.” “Are you meanin’ to call me a coward?” Lanwell asked, his voice low and quiet and almost expres- sionless. “I am, and you'd better resign your job ’fore you're kicked out of it in disgrace.” Lanwell took a deep drag on his cigarette, dropped it, crushed it with the sole of his foot. He went for- ward slowly as Swall’s_ friends stepped aside. Swall set himself in a crouch. Lanwell rushed suddenly, his fists coming up. Swall bored in with a distin of wild rage and brute force. Lanwell sidestepped and rocked Swall’s head. By clever footwork, he avoid- ed Swall’s rushes, occasionally got in a punishing blow, led Swall into continuing the wild rushes which soon tired him. Finally, Lanwell started battering his foe, driving him back, at the finish sending him down into the dust to sprawl in semiconsciousness, Breathing heavily, Lanwell reeled aside, picked his hat up off the ground, knocked dust from it and put it upon his head. “Carry him to the blacksmith’s water trough and douse his head,” he told Swall’s friends. He leaned COPMICLOOOKS co