2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

BLOOD AND SWEAT - OR BULLETS? 83 From an open drawer Barney Carr pulled a reward notice and slapped it down, face up, on the desk. “Wanted for murder and stage rob- bery,” droned Barney Carr remorse- lessly. “Chet Sheldon alias ‘Blackie’ Sheldon. And the height and weight cata fits: you like a shirt, Shadrow. A'so, it mentions a scar, across the left angie of the chin. Which a beard would come in mighty- handy to cover, if you ask me. We'll have to call the barber in to shave that set of whiskers you pack, Shadrow. Just to be— Ah! You fool—!” While Barney Carr had _ been speaking, Shadrow’s lips had been peeling back in an ever growing snarl. Now he bounced away from his chair like a cornered cat and his right hand licked under his vest and came away bearing the blue-black bulk of snub nosed shoulder holster gun. But he got the weapon no far- ther than just into the clear when one of Barney Carr’s guns stabbed across the desk top and coughed heavily. Chet Shadrow staggered back, dropped his gun, made some blind and aimless passes before his face with loose and wobbling hands, spun slowly and crashed down, shot through the heart. Barney Carr was up and leaning across his desk, smoking gun bearing on Stent Vinson. “Don’t you try it, Vinson!” rapped Barney. “You’d have no better luck!” Vinson wasn’t trying anything, He was shriveled down in his chair, face and eyes ghastly. He had to gnaw at his shaking lips before he could get out a word. “It was all—his idea,” stammered Vinson shrilly. “And he did the—the killing. He shot Dykes and—and Macklin. I swear he did. I swear it—I—’ “All right, Ed.” broke in Barney ~ Carr. “‘You turn Buck Caspian and Llilo Studinger loose. We gota real it belongs and we'll go eat.” prisoner, now.” T WAS GETTING on toward sun- down, Sheriff Barney Carr had been making up for lost sleep on the office bunk. Ed Dow was out around town, telling the world that the best and smartest sheriff in forty-eight states was Barney Carr. And if any- body wanted to say different, they had him, Ed Dow, to lick. Nobody did. Barney was awake when Ed Dow came back in. For the first time since the showdown, they were alone. Ed Dow took off his deputy’s badge and laid it on the desk. Barney yawned. “What’s that for, kid?” he asked cheerfully. “I ain ‘t got brains enough to be a law man,” mumbled Ed. “I’m going back to punching cows, where a strong back counts.” “You put that badge right back on, where it belongs,’ growled Barney. “You're doing all right. You’re doing fine. Shucks! I came near muffing things myself, Take that reward pos- ter. I nearly chucked it away half a dozen times, I’d had it so long. But each time I looked at it I got the feeling that I’d seen that hombre somewhere. So I kept it. And not until I come to suspect Shadrow did I realize who the poster was a picture of. If I hadn’t been able to flash that on him, chances are I could never have bluffed him into a betraying break. Because I was guessing plenty. In this game you got to do that, once in a while. You got to learn all the angles.”’ “And me arresting Buck and Milo,” growled Ed. “When was there ever such a clunk headed fool!” Barney chuckled. “Everybody makes mistakes, kid. And everybody has to learn. Any law man needs training. Put that badge back where @® END SON OFAGUN (cont’d from page 66) those against it lost, you cut it into small rings, threw these in the pot. Warm water was used. Ingredients were added a handful at a time, and thoroughly stirred after each addition. The brains were cooked separately, and poured in at the end to provide a thickening. Vegetables were outlawed, except perhaps for just a small “skunk egg” (onion). The finished pro- duct was eaten with either biscuits made from sourdough, or “wasp’s nest” 99 or “gun waddin bread). (typical Western names for Eastern-type white @ END oO comleoooks.c©