2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

DEAD MAN'S HAND Al Keen Ralston sluiced a stream of tobacco juice into the spittoon. “Jep’s worryin’ about nothin’. Been itchy as a sand hen ever since Poler dropped Johnny Thomas last week. Hell’s fire, Ben Poler ain’t gonna start another ruckus now, Jep, bein’ elected sheriff kind of set Ben back on his heels. He knows Jep hasn't forgot about that fifty head he’s missin’.” A startled look came into Ralston’s eyes. He ran his thumb along the gray stubble of his beard and fanned his hand. Aces-and-eights. He looked first at Cliff Bristow, and then at Cliff’s brother, Jim. Neither spoke, . but Cliff quietly picked up the “dead man’s hand” and shuffled it into the deck. The sound of running feet thudded on the porch. A fair-cheeked youth of seventeen or eighteen burst into _ the room and fell against the table. “Shattuck’s horse just came in by it- self,” he almost babbled, “and Sheriff Parnell is goin’ out to look for him. He says you all should go along.” | Jep was already in the saddle when Ralston and the Bristow brothers hurried from the _ saloon. checking his rifle, but no sign of excitement or nervousness showed on his angular face. He pulled the flat- crowned Stetson low over his eyes. “Let’s get going,” Parnell said to the three. “Shattuck probably fol- lowed the river, and unless I miss my guess, that’s where we'll find him.” He reined the black away from the vail and flung over his shoulder: “Then we're going out to find Ben Poler.” | The three Bar K boys were right behind him. They hit the end of the street at a full gallop and didn’t slow -until they reached the banks of Rake River. Jep held up his hand. “Ralston, you and I will follow the bed. Cliff, you and Jim trail along the bench, fifty yards apart, Keep your eyes peeled.” : BRIGHT three-quarter moon and a sky full of stars aided the search. They rode in silence; Jep close to the edge of the river, Keen Ralston near the rise of the bank, and the Bristows spread out on the shelf. The clop of hoofs and the oc- casional clang of a shoe on a rock He was was all that broke the silence. Twen- ty minutes went by without a trace of Shattuck. Mighty nice night to be lookin’ for a dead man, Jep said to himself. Maybe he isn’t dead, though. Lots of things could have happened. But he didn’t believe what he was saying, and he snapped shut his mouth in a thin hard line. He bent forward in the saddle, and his gray eyes drilled holes in the river’s edge. “Maybe he went down the other side,’ Keen’s voice reached for him through the stillness. “TJ don’t think so,” Jep answered. “He’d just have to ford the river farther up. No, I reckon he’s on this side of the Rake.” “How come he took off for Pome- roy tonight? Even if one of Poler’s slicks did jump his claim, they ain’t nothin’ he can do about it till morn- ing. The courthouse won’t open till eight or nine.” Jep rolled a cigarette. The glow of the match cast a yellow flicker across his lean, craggy face. “Probably fig- ured he’d get the jump on Poler by leaving tonight. Ben’s probably got a stakeout on his place. Poler wants that water bad.” “Well, Shattuck never made it. Lookathere.” Jep pulled over, and Keen’s gnarled finger pointed to Shattuck’s body lying in the shadow of the bank. Jep reined up. “Call Cliff and Jim. Poler must be crazy. Shattuck never harmed anybody. He was killed just because he was sittin’ across Poler’s creek—at least Ben called his creek —and that gun-happy thief is loco enough to pull the same job on any- one who gets in his way.” Ralston whistled twice, and Cliff Bristow’s shout answered. Keen’s white hair caught the moon’s rays as he held his hat and knelt beside | Shattuck’s body. “Plumb between the eyes,” he said in a low voice. “Never had.a chance. Looks like a .30-30 hole. Whoever shot him must have meen waitin’ in that outcropping over yonder.” Keen pointed toward the bank with his hat, and Jep’s gaze followed. Close to the edge of the shelf, at a bend in the river, was a pile or rocks which commanded an open view for conmilceboooks CO