2-Gun Western, February 1954 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

8 2-GUN WESTERN HERE ARE men who can stick : rigidly to their own trails, concerned with no _ problems but those of Number One, blind to the needs of others who might be helped along the way. Maybe they are the lucky ones—but Jed Rocklin was not among these. He had his personal worries, that _day he saw old Jump-and-a-Half Ta- tum being taken out to hang. Jed was shoving along a little gather of his cows, keeping to the draws and aiming to slide past the town of Standpat during the night and be clear of the basin by morning. A man who'd been lucky enough to find a cash market for beef had to be right careful. Thunder Basin was cattle poor, these years when the bottom had dropped out of the market—let any of the ranchers, Black Jack Saw- dey in particular, get wind of a way to turn cows into money and he’d be as rough as need be to move in on it. Jed’s nature was such that he wished the market he’d found had been big enough for him to let his neighbors have a slice of it. But it wasn't. Ten cows now, delivered within a week or the contract became void, and five a month thereafter. A dribble, but a big thing to a man down to tobacco money, He’d planned, though, to let Tatum supply the stock every other month, once the thing got rolling. The Tatums were neighbors of a special kind.... And now old Jump-and-a-Half was in the middle of a little group of rid- ers that moved up the hill toward the Golden Lady mine. His grizzled head was bare and his hands were tied behind his back. There could be only one meaning for this. Every tree in the basin had been cut down to sup- ply mine timbers in the old days of the boom; since then the headrig of the Golden Lady had served as a gallows on more than one occasion. Jed lifted his lank frame in the saddle for a better look. He was a calm young hombre, ordinarily slow to anger, yet wrath was building in him-now. He saw that Black Jack Sawdey was leading the bunch, Some- how old Jump had incurred the wrath of Black Jack, who owned the big- gest outfit in the basin and aimed to keep it that way. Jed’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Tatum was old, and prattled endless- ly about the boom days when he had worked in the mines. He harmed ne one. His little spread, up here at the end of the basin next to Jed’s, crowd- ed no one. It made this a hard thing to figure—but Tatum had a grand- daughter just turned nineteen, and his being hanged would be something she’d never get over. Jed needed only a moment to make his decision. If he left his cows now they would scat- ter, and working alone it would take him at least a day to gather them up and that day would cost him the beef contract. But he reined out of the draw. He circled the hill where the mine was, keeping out of sight, pulling his rifle from the. saddle boot as he moved upward. A grimness touched his face as he dismounted in the shadow of the headrig and stepped behind a rusty boiler. Sawdey’s bunch was quarter- ing up the long tailings dump. There were five of them—Sawdey, a pair of his punchers, and two more ranchers, one a stooped little man by name of Eli Denn and the other a comparative newcomer to the basin, Cline Wymer. Old Jump lifted his head as they neared the headrig, glancing at the weathered timbers with stricken eyes. Eli Denn chuckled and said, “Take a good look at it, you old thief. Reckon it’s still strong enough to dangle you while you choke.” | Jed waited until they had dis- mounted. As they pulled Tatum roughly from his horse Jed stepped into view, lifting the rifle and say- ing, “Hold right still, boys.” bey JERKED around to face him. Hope flickered in Tatum’s faded eyes. Sawdey swore, his broad jaw tilting up, and stabbed a hand to- ward the cedar stock of his sixgun. The hand veered away when he saw the Winchester in Jed’s_ hands. “Rocklin,” he breathed, “who in hell gave you leave to put in on this?” ‘Nobody. I’m curious about what reason you got for this. And I know you well enough, Jack, to savvy that the only way to talk sense with you — is to get the drop first.” Sawdey took a truculent stance. He CEOPMICLOOKS (C@)