2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

eopyright 1939, Western Fiction Pub. Co, Ino, ~ KILLER'S by NORMAN A. FOX HOUGH the blue shadows of night were crowding down from the surrounding peaks, Webb Freeman could still see many miles of the wild tangled Mustang country from his porch steps. Hunk- ered there, his long body folded into an inverted N, the old rancher had identified the riders toiling up the trail from town long before Sheriff Anvil Shane and his posse were with- in hailing distance. It gave Webb time to prepare himself for their sa ; ns. He had been trailing the bandits for weeks, Bert Freeman's blazing sixguns marked him as a bushwhacker, but they burned the proper hide with the _ owlhoot brand coming but Webb was not a top-hand at deception and his heart was hammering when the lawman dis- mounted before his gate. The posse sat their horses in si- lence beyond the ranchyard fence and Webb was glad Anvil Shane was com- ing in alone. He and the sheriff had been friends for more years than either could remember. Even though things were shaping themselves to ruin that friendship, Webb knew he should be glad.to see Shane so he mustered a smile as the squat, looking lawman came on. “How-do, Anvil,” he jerked. “How come yuh’re galavantin’ away up here this time o’ evenin’?” Shane’s gray mustache drooped as thee th st were 3 registering t h-e TIME (9 HORORED weariness of his : WESTERN © entire body. “I 3 ye W(LASSIC be gag & | galavantin’ SPHOO Hee eee ee OOHtete 6999999 d 99% PEP IPODD solid-. C© (CO)