2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

BUSHWHACKER'S washing. She never knew he left his rocking chair where he was sup- posed to stay. He heard her cross the _ living room; she opened the door and came in. Even now, tired and sick as he was, Morgan felt good just looking at Sally. She was too good for Marty, but she was just right for Morgan. ALLY WAS always clean and bright and vibrant. She was twenty-four, black-eyed and_ black- haired, with a good sense of humor and a laugh that was a pleasure to hear. She had a fine figure with her round breasts, and hips that were not too wide, and trim ankles. Morgan could think of a lot of things he admired in Sally. The way she lifted herself above the trashy family of drifters she came from, The way she stuck with Marty when they were starving to death on his’ greasy-sack spread over on Cedar Creek. The proud way she carried her head as if she’d been born a queen. And now that he was this way, she never by so much as a word or facial expression showed that she re- gretted anything. A woman would have to love a man plenty to put up with what she had. She brought a pan of water, and- a towel was thrown over her shoul- der. She _ said, “Good morning, John. How did you sleep?” “Fine,” he lied. “How. are you?” She gave him her warm smile. He liked her white teeth that seemed whiter than they were be- cause her lips were so red. Some- thing began to swell in Morgan. She belonged to him, not to Marty Daren. He reached out and touched her arm when she sat down on the bed, filled with the pride of pos- session, “I’m fine, too, John,” she said. “Why shouldn’t I be?” He didn’t answer. There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn't be fine, but she didn’t complain. She never complained. It was an- other thing he liked about her. He wondered what she would do when he was gone, but he put the ques- tion out of his mind, wanting nothing to mar the enjoyment which her presence gave him. She washed his face, white and so thin that his cheekbones seemed about to break through his skin. She dried his face and washed his hands, just skin and big knuckles 25 and bone, hands that had done so many things and now were good for nothing. She flung the towel over her shoulder and would have got up if he hadn't reached out and gripped her hand. For a moment their eyes “met and he sensed they were think- ing of the same thing, the afternoons they had spent together when Marty had been out on the range. “I’ve got a surprise for you,’ he said. “It'll come later this morn- ing.” She looked away quickly, strug- gling with her emotions. He had given her many things. She kept most of them in the ranch house in- stead of the cabin where she stayed with Marty. Morgan understood, It was natural enough for Marty to be jealous and furious because he couldn’t buy her the expensive things that Morgan could. “You shouldn’t,” she said. pay us awfully well, John. I now. Her voice trailed off. He what she meant. It would never again be the way it had been three years ago when she and Marty had come here. He wasn’t a man now, just an empty body waiting to die. “I should,’ he said, “because I want to. You understand ‘that, don’t you? Anything I do is a _ small thing after all you’ve done for me.” She drew her hand from his and stood up. “I'll bring your breakfast.” “Let’s not keep on playing a fool- ish game,” he said. “Just the coffee.” She hesitated, obviously not want- ing to admit that he would never “You mean, knew eat a real meal again. Then she smiled and nodded. “All right, John.” HE LEFT the room, Morgan’s eyes on her until she disap- peared. He thought how it had start- ed, that day in Shavano when he had CORMICLOOOKS (C@