2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

BUT ONE MAN ALONE MIGHT.... against the fumbled tobacco sack and papers from a shirt pocket, and began building a fresh cigarette. Por FOUR mornings, Lanwell rode away from home before daylight and returned about noon. He told nobody where he went or what he did, not even Ella. On the fifth morning, after he had spent a couple of hours with Perez in the gulch near the mouth of Mad Dog Canyon, Perez said: “I have done all I can for you, senor.” “Thanks, Perez. I can’t wait any longer. Now, I’m goin’ after Wolf Clade.” “I ask one thing, senor. If it is possible bring in Clade alive. I would like to look upon his dead body—si! But I would rather see him strangling at the end of a rope.” “T’ll get him alive if I can,” Lan- well promised. Lanwell loped back home. Ella watched him as he ate. When he had finished, he said, “I’m startin’ to trail Wolf Clade tomorrow, Ella.” “With a posse, Jim?” “I’m trailin’ alone.” “Jim! He got Dad...and there's the baby coming...and if you—” “Ella! Your Dad taught you all about sheriffin’. You bein’ the daugh- ter of a sheriff, and the wife of a deputy—well, it’s like bein’ the daughter and wife of army officers, I s’\pose—somethin’ like that.” “I know, Jim. You’ve got your duty. But be careful. If you’d take only two or three men—” “I’ve got to go alone. We'll talk more about it this evenin’ after sup- per. I’ve got to go to the office now,” He found most of the townsmen gathered around the sheriff’s office and the jail. As Lanwell approached, Ed Swall advanced to meet him. “Seems like you ain’t trusted much by your superiors, Lanwell,’ Swall said. “There’s a deputy United States Marshal waitin’ in your office to see you.” “Be glad to meet him,” Lanwell said, without stopping. door casement again, — 19 “Maybe he’s been sent here to han- dle things. “Bout time somebody did somethin’.” Lanwell entered the office and closed the door. The marshal was a middle-aged man huge in body, his face bronzed by sun and weather. “I was driftin’ in this direction, and was asked to look in on you, Lanwell,” the marshal said. “The authorities are some riled by Wolf Clade and his doin’s.” “Are you takin’ over?” Lanwell asked. “Don’t get steamed up. Just thought I might give you some ad- vice, if you happen to need any.” “I’ve been makin’ plans,” Lanwell said. “Just completed them, and aim to start after Clade in the mornin’. I’m goin’ after him alone. Folks here are yellin’ for a posse, but that’d be useless.” “Waste of horseflesh and men’s time,” the marshal agreed. “What else? You’ve made plans, you said.” “T’ll tell them to you alone.” He looked at the office deputy. “You go out and tell Swall and his friends what I said—that I’m startin’ after 9 99 Clade in the mornin’. f Es OFFICE deputy went out. Through the window, Lanwell watched men crowd around him. He sat at the desk across from the mar- shal and began talking in low tones. The marshal looked skeptical at first. Then his eyes gleamed, and he bent forward with his elbows on the desk and revealed enthusiastic inter- est. When Lanwell had finished talk- ing, the marshal said: “IT like it! I believe you can work it. But you’re runnin’ a good chance of stoppin’ gun slugs.” “Any man who wears a law badge takes that chance in this part of the country.” “Where are you goin’ to start— and how?” the marshal asked. “I know that after he shot the sheriff, Clade rode through Mad Dog Canyon, so he’s prob’ly got a hideaway in the hills on the other side of the range. All I can do is ride into the canyon and keep goin’, not tryin’ to hide my whereabouts. I don’t know how to get to him, so COPMICLOOOKS (C@