2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

fore he pitched from saddle. He lay sprawled on his back, staring up banjo-eyed at the starry sky that looked like silver studs holding in place a vast blue-black lid. G iors eit was dead even be- Whoever had picked off Shattuck was a dead shot with a .30-30, and Sheriff Jep Parnell knew that the seven gunnies siding the killer would be equally handy with sixshooters... EEPCR TT The big claybank nuzzled Shattuck . ZANY » gently and tossed his head when the 3) AY Lig man failed to move. Whinnying soft- pl Ln Oe: ly, the horse then turned and gal- See ak loped back the way he’d come—along the winding bed of the Rake. The riv- er was low—there had been little rain in Sassafee Valley—and the clay- bank’s hoofs shot occasional sparks as he pounded back toward Tonka City. The Mineral Saloon was quiet, al- | most empty, Sheriff Jep Parnell straightened in his chair and glanced. at the clock behind the bar. The _hands lacked five minutes till mid- night. He threw down his cards and stood up. “I don’t like this business.” Parnell was tall, almost gaunt, and his gray | eyes narrowed in their wide-set sock- ets. His blond hair was in sharp con- trast to the brown planes of his face. “Shattuck shouldn’t have gone by himself.” ; He stepped through the swinging [ DICK BAIRD doors, and the three cattlemen still seated at the table could hear the clump of his heels on the planking | of the porch. 40 A The victim was directly in his sights. conmlclooks.co©