2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

26 seen her for the first time. No wom- an had ever struck him like that. He’d found out who she was and that she and her husband had moved onto the Triangle R. It was hardscratble range, the kind of spread that only a poor man would tackle. Two men had failed, and Marty Daren was beaten before he started. Morgan had waited until even Marty, stupidly stubborn as he was, knew he was licked. Then Morgan had gone over there and offered Marty the foreman’s job. “I can use both of you,” he’d said. “Your wife can keep an eye on the big house for me.” He remembered how it had been, both of them standing in front of the tar paper shack, both hungry, with the defeated look in their eyes of people who had done all they could and found out it hadn’t been enough. He'd offered good pay, and they’d jumped at it, not questioning what was in his mind, for good jobs were hard to get. He hadn't liked Marty from the first, but Sally had made up for Marty’s deficiencies. Morgan had been careful with her for a few weeks, uncertain how she would feel. She soon let him know she liked him, not in words but in the subtle ways a woman has. After that he'd seen to it that Marty was busy miles from the house, or he’d sent him to Denver to buy a bull or machinery or to see a buyer. Morgan knew there was talk. He didn’t care. He’d always lived his life the way he wanted to and this was no time to change. If it bothered Sally, she never indicated it. That was another thing he liked about her. She didn’t answer to anyone, not even to Marty. Morgan was never sure when Marty found out or how he. heard. Perhaps it was just natural suspicion. In any case he didn’t say a word. Morgan would never have known Marty knew if he hadn’t sensed a growing hostility in the man. Sally came in with his coffee and. propped his head up with the pillows. She sat on the edge of the bed, cheer- ful and composed. He held her hand again, cool and soft, and let himself think of how it had been between 2-GUN WESTERN them. Even now, with all that behind him, he found satisfaction in the memory. When he finished the coffee, Sally rose. “I think you ought to stay in bed today, John.” “This isn’t the day,” he said. “When it comes, I'll never get back on the porch. I’ll just-rot here in bed.” She opened her mouth and closed it. She never argued with him about anything, but he saw the shadow of worry that was on her face. She turned, and then swung back. “John, Marty was drunk last night,” she said. “He’s in a mean mood. I wish you’d stay inside.” He knew then. It had finally reached the breaking point. Kind of funny, coming now, with Morgan sick and Sally nothing more than a nurse. But it was hke Marty. Not much of a man. If he were, he’d have done something a long time ago. “Don’t .worry about it,” Morgan said. “Let him quit. I’ve got other men who can run this outfit as good as Marty can.” “It isn’t that, John,” she said in a low tone. “He won’t quit. I’m afraid he’ll do something to you.” “Not Marty,” he said. HE LEFT the room then. It amused him to think of Marty do- ing anything. A man who'd taken what Marty had and stood it for three years wasn’t going to do any- thing now. But Sally’s concern pleased him. She loved him enough to worry about these last few weeks of life.. He got his feet on the floor and stood up, a hand on the head of the bed. Damn it, why should his legs want to buckle under him like this? He’d never thought he’d come to this place. He forced himself to reach for his robe and got it on, and then he had to sit down again. Tired, so tired he doubted that he could get to the porch. But he did, holding to the backs of chairs and gripping the door jambs, and then he dropped into the rocking chair, sweat breaking through his skin. Three years ago he wouldn’t have been this tired after he’d been in the saddle from sunup to sundown, COPMICLOOOKS (E©)