2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

THE TROUBLED GUN “What is it you want?” She did not answer right away. She appeared to be thinking and whatever it was that she ran through her mind could not have been pleas- ant for a drop of wetness gathered at each corner of her eyes. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “I meant to write to you and explain but every time I sat down I just didn’t know how to put it into words. I~” “Look,” he said, bending forward a little in earnestness. “I’m going to tell it to you only this once. It wasn’t exactly a happy time for me, Lucy, but I always saw your side of it. I certainly didn’t expect you or want you to give up ten years of your life. I hold nothing against you be- cause you married. What you did was a natural thing. Let’s never talk about it again.” She bowed her head and was a while like that. When she finally lifted her face, 1er eyes were dry and clear. “Thank you, Steve,” she said. “Now what is it you want of me?” The directness of her eyes faltered. “I—I don’t know how to put it.” “You've known me a long time. You needn't be embarrassed about any- thing.” “It’s about Tom,” she said, and halted as if in confusion. He said nothing. When she saw that he was not go- ing to speak, she drew a breath and went on, “I know you and Tom never got along and now you've got a good reason for not helping him and if you won't I’ll never blame you. But I don’t know who else to turn to, Steve. If Tom was guilty, I’d just have to admit that he had it coming but he’s innocent, Steve. It just doesn’t make sense. Tom is well off. We've done well the past five years. Why would he jeopardize everything we have to rustle a few steers? “This is all Carey Rendler’s doing. You know how shiftless and schem- ing he’s always been. He bought the old Maxwell place next to ours and he took the Lazy F brand because it can be changed into Tom’s 44 iron. Then Rendler and Mike Downey changed a few of their Lazy Fs into 43 Tom’s 44 and branded a couple of their own calves with a 44 so they’d be following a Lazy F mother and that’s how they’ve framed Tom. Can’t you see, Steve? Won’t you help ge AMERON did not return to Sil- ver Hill. That night he slept un- der the stars and it was a fitful sleep that was more a brooding wakeful- ness than any actual drowsing. In any event, he had a lot of time in which to consider everything and even before the break of dawn his mind was made up. He reached Carey Rendler’s ranch while the sun was still a glow behind the distant mountain range. However, Cameron rode nowhere near the buildings. He dismounted on a hill- top in the shelter of some mesquite and from there he watched the layout of Lazy F. After the sun had cleared the top of the mountain, Cameron saw two men moving about in the yard below. The two saddled horses and rode off in opposite directions. Cameron wait- ed until he discerned which one was Mike Downey. Then Cameron got on his bay and followed, careful to keep out of Downey’s sight. It was the middle of the morning before Cameron spurred his bay to overtake Downey. Downey heard the sound of the running horse behind him and it brought him hipping around in his kak. Surprise and star- tlement pulled Downey’s mouth agape a moment and then he reined in his gru'lla mare and waited. Cameron pulled up the bay and dismounted. His eyes were narrowed as he stared up at Mike Downey. Downey was a big, gross man with jowls that overflowed the tightly buttoned collar of his shirt and a paunch that lapped over the buckle of his belt. He had a bright red nose marked with tiny purple veins and the color of his eves was perpetually shot with the suffering of a morning after. Cameron said, “Get off your horse, Mike.” Puzzlement furrowed Downey's brow. His mouth opened and stayed that way without a sound emerging. CORMICLOOOKS (C@)