2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

14 “So it was Gruber dammed the riv- er,’ the preacher frowned. He peered yonder at the hollow slope of the hills, and remembering the backwater on the trail, said, “Now he wants your land, to flood with backwater.” The widow nodded. “My husband died in the brush with a bullet in his back, over a year ago. Miles has come here ever since, offering to buy the place—” She smiled, “He even offered to marry .me. Gruber doesn’t know what love is,” she said, coloring, Late- ly, he’s started threatening me—” Hoof-tromp sounded in the yard, and she added, morosely, “Here he is now.” Dorn looked up to see Gruber rid- ing toward them; he turned to the widow. “If you don’t mind, Ma’am, I'll give the mare some water.” He swung from saddle. GC. REINED up beside the widow and swept off his hat with a flourish. “Fine day.’ His shrewd eyes took in the preacher, “I reckon it’s generally known I’m courting the widow, but it’s a little early for you, Preacher,” he laughed. “What are you ' doing here?” Dorn said, softly, “It’s time you stopped bothering Mrs. Johanson, Gruber.” Gruber sat the saddle, a big man and florid, his face grown suddenly livid with anger. He glanced at the widow, then back at the man beside her. “Why, you damned tramp par- son,” he roared, “I’ll have you run out of the country!” He wheeled his horse dangerously close to the widow Johanson. “I didn’t expect you’d have company, Ma’am,” he said angrily. “I’ll be back tomorrow. One of these days you'll think better of my offer.” Spurring his gelding, he galloped from the yard, The widow stood looking after him. Despair in her eyes, she turned to face the preacher. “Gruber means [ll sell, or be flooded out,” she said. “The backwater from his dam is rising...” Dorn let his horse drink from the pail. He said, mounting, “I’m stop- ping in Junction, Mrs. Johanson. There’s a lawman there will take care of Gruber—” 2-GUN WESTERN The widow laughed bitterly. “Ever hear of a paper sheriff, Preacher? This isn’t the only place Gruber is after. The ranchers have called a meeting tonight, in Junction...” Her voice trailed off. “T’ll be there,’ Dorn looked at the woman thoughtfully. “If the sheriff won't stop Gruber—” The widow touched his arm, and there was a softness in her eyes as she looked at him. Dorn had removed his low-crowned hat, and the brown hand holding it was strong and gentle. A good man, like Johanson... She shook her head. “Keep out of this, Preacher. Things are worse, below the dam. Gruber wants the whole val- lev: There were times, Dorn thought, when he was tempted to forget the words in the Good Book. When he longed to use the six-gun on his hip, that he carried for rattlesnakes. But he was a man of God. “Thou shalt not kilt... Now, as his mare’s hoofs beat a hollow tattoo across the wooden bridge at the edge of town, Dorn won- dered at how things had changed, since he’d last ridden into Junction. Coming up the Rio Gato he’s seen the results of Gruber’s thrust for power. Things are worse below the dam, the widow had said; a land of starved ranchers, and dead cattle... Had Gruber taken over the town, as he had the river? Passing Stockman’s Hall and the | Mercantile, Dorn was about to swing down in front of the hotel, when he remembered the medicine he wanted for Rodriguez. Tired as he was, he rode to the far end of town, and ‘called on Doc Weatherstone. The ruddy-faced little medico lis- tened, then shook his head. “Rheuma- tism,’ he pronounced. “Regardless, the’old man’ll have to stop his dig- ging.” He sat for a moment, his bright eyes studying the preacher, whistling ‘tunelessly. Then he hurried into his dispensary. Returning, he handed Dorn a bottle. “According to my label, it'll cure anything.” He laughed as he shook hands with the preacher. Riding back down Main street, Dorn left the tired mare at the livery- stable. Tomorrow I'll see what I can Cconmile nooks (CO)