2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

56 A faint rustle behind him and he turned, gun in hand. A big old form loomed in the dark, wide, shapeless. “It me...Maria. He say give you this.” A paper rattled and he took it. “You go...quick now.” He went swiftly, hearing boots grating on the gravel. They were sus- picious, and coming to look. He stepped out the back door and a man rounded the corner. “Hey, there!” the fellow started forward. —wenits. F Matt Ryan shot him. He held the gun low and he shot at the middle of the man’s body, and heard the other man’s gun’s blast muffled by his body. He started by him, and a light flared somewhere and its light caught the man’s face. He had killed Indian Kelly. Rifle in hand, he ran, ducking into the trees. There were shouts behind him, and he saw men scatter out, coming. He could see their darker shapes against the gray of the yard. He fired four fast shots from the hip, scattering them across the yard. A man stumbled and went down, then the others hit the dirt. He ran for the bay, caught the bri- dle reins and stepped into the leather. “Let’s get out of here!” he said, and the big red horse was moving. .. fast. Day was graying when he neared Hanna’s Station. He saw no horses around, so he rode boldly from the woods to the back door. In the gray of the light, he swung down and knocked. ‘Kitty opened the door. He stepped in, grim, unshaven. “Got some cof- fee?” he said. “And I want to see Fred.” “You...they killed him. Gerlach and Dunn. They found him.” “Your father?” “He’s hurt...they knocked him out.” He looked at her hungrily, anxious to feel her need of him. With his fingers he spread the paper Maria had given him. Matt Ryan: Take over. Tom Hitch The signature was big and sprawled out, but a signature. known 2-GUN WESTERN all over the Slumbering Hills. So...there it was. The problem was his now. Looking back, he could re- member the old man’s eyes. Hitch had known that if he had shown the slightest willingness to listen to Ryan they would both have been killed. But now the battle had been tossed to him, Kitty looked at him, waiting. “There it is, Matt. You’re the boss of Slumbering Hills.” The boss...and a hunted man. His only supporters an old man with an aching head, and a girl. One man alone...with a gun. § iets WOULD be combing the hills for him. They would come back here, Kitty had been left alone but then they were in a hurry to find him and Tom Hitch was living. Now, it would be different. “Saddle up,” he said. “You and your Dad are riding. Ride to the ranches, get the men together.” “What about you?” Her eyes were very large. “Matt, what about you?” “Me? I’ll wait here.” “But they’ll come here! They'll be looking for you.” “Uh-huh...so I show ’em who’s boss.” He grinned suddenly, boyishly. “Better rustle some help. They might not believe me.” : When they had left, he waited. The stage station was silent, the throbbing heart gone.from it. He poured cof- fee into a cup, remembering that it was up to him now... Suppose. ..sup- pose he could do it without a gun... A time haa come for change, -the old order was gone...but did Lee Dunn know that? And in his heart, Matt Ryan knew he did not. For Lee Dunn was the old order. He was a relic, a leftover, a memory of the days when Tom Hitch had come here, Hitch al- ready past his prime, Dunn not yet to reach his... In the silent house the clock ticked loudly. Matt Ryan sipped his coffee, and laid his Winchester on the table. He checked his gun while the clock ticked off the measured seconds. It was broad day now...Kitty and her father would be well into the val- rey. Would the ranchers come? His COPNICLOOOKS (E@)