2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

Int HE GUNMAN KNOWN throughout the Territory as Mojave Jack rode into Bent Fork just before noon on a hot sum- mer day. He stabled his horse at the Dutchman’s and went down the street to, the Palace Saloon, People were alerted when he rode in and by the time he took the stroll from the livery barn to the saloon there were two hundred paits of eyes on him. | He wasn’t anything special to look at, being about average height and build, but he moved with a feline softness and quickness. His face was all hard angles and planes, giving an overall impression of flatness, and his eyes were blue. He squinted so that it was hard to see his eyes and his head kept up a ceaseless turning as he looked this way and that. There was a downward cast to his thin mouth and Monty Ferris re- ‘Mojave Jack was a paid killer. A man whose gun was for hire| didn't prod a trailtown marshal by PHILLIP MORGAN “Jim's gun was out and firing, not aiming. into a fight... marked later that he looked like a man who hadn’t smiled in twenty years. The marks of his trade were in the single gun he wore, low, tied down, its black butt shiny with wear, and in the thin leather gloves that covered his hands even on this hot day. That and the way he acted, so scornful and cold and aloof. Mojave Jack was no more than ‘through the doors of the Palace when they started coming. Marshal Jim Forbes had known they would come and he was patiently waiting, sitting solidly there in his big chair behind the desk in his office. He was a young, square-built man, with a face . burned brown by years of riding in sun and wind, a man who had come up the trail from Texas four times and who knew, the smell of trouble well. He waited while the influential, 28 nervous citizens of Bent Fork GOmicbooksncom