2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

TOMBSTONE STORY by LAURAN PAINE IFE IN the early West was cheap and held in light re- gard, but it can safely be doubted if anyone was ever killed over a more preposterous trifle than a plaid shirt. If such casual mayhem were possible today, when it’s considered fashionable to wear those baggy crea- tions inspired by the motion picture in- dustry, that hang outside a man’s pants and are splattered with every color in the rainbow—the na- tion’s sidewalks would be depopulat- ed overnight. Anyway, Tom Wa- ters of Tombstone was shot to death be- cause he-wore a cot- ton shirt of big, black and white checks—and, in a way, he had it com- ing. Tom had gone to Tombstone after having a little min- Tom Waters was Wearing this black and white checkered ing luck up in Colorado. He was a big, handsome man, powerfully built and clear eyed. He was new to Arizo- na Territory and, after arriving, looked up an old friend named Ed Bradshaw, who had a cabin on the outskirts of town. Naturally, Brad- shaw asked Waters to move in with him, since there was ample room for both. This Tom did with alacrity, sal- lying forth frequently to try his luck at the gambling tables and sample the liquid lightning of the local saloons. Yes, Tom Waters of Tombstone was shot to death for no better reason than that he wore a cotton shirt of big, black and white checks.... 28 Tom Waters was a pleasant enough fellow, with all his massive bulk and tasty eye. He was just under forty years of age and was quickly dubbed a “sport.” This designation wasn’t only hung on him because of his love of liquor and cards, however, for Tom liked to dress too. His sartorial splendor was a standing joke among th¢ cowboys, miners, and freighters who frequented Tomb- stone’s “better houses.” Ed Bradshaw was a direct antithesis of his pardner. He was small, wizened and quiet, with no great love for gambling or drinking, although he enjoyed both in moderation. Ed was around fifty, or a lit- tle over, at the time big Tom Waters came to live with him, Ed was respect- ed and liked around Tombstone. He was a hard worker and a good miner. Ed knew Tom better than anyone else in Tombstone, naturally, and passed the word that, while Tom was an excellent fellow sober, drunk he was hell on wheels and it was wise to avoid him then. Tombstone’s denizens duly filed that little gem of understatement away and _ sedu- lously kept away from Tom when he had been drinking. Of course, there were strangers who didn’t know about (e€) NOOK (C@)