2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

HARDCASE OR COWARD? “No,” Varing said tautly. “I fig- ured—” “You’re not supposed to do any fig- urin’,” Kilrain snapped, hard-eyed. “You're supposed to do as youre told. I’m not so blasted finicky. You gents wait here a minute!” Russ Kilrain whirled his big black, sent it pounding down the decline. Kent Varing, watching, saw him fling from the saddle and stride into the cabin. He was in the cabin no more than sixty seconds. Then he came out, mounted and rode back to his waiting men. A grin was on Kilrain’s thin, cruel lips. “IT gave ’em till midnight to pack and get out,” he said. “Told ’em I'd be back then. Well, ldws ride!” Kilrain’s four henchmen grinned wolfishly. They were hard men, scum of the outlaw trails; murder was the kind of work they enjoyed. Kent Var- ing said nothing as they rode on through the notch beyond the cabin and along the widening valley. He tried to hide from Kilrain and the others. the turmoil that was in his mind. mre The sun was sinking into its nest of blue hills when they arrived at the hideout—a big log cabin huddled back under the walls of a nidden can- yon. Until his depredations had be- come too bold a couple of years ago, Kilrain had operated from this head- quarters, driving stolen cattle south- ward into Mexico. Their trail to the Border lay along the canyon-like val- ley they’d traversed that evening. The horses were watered at a lit- tle stream that trickled along the canyon, and turned loose in a rude pole corral. Kent Varing remained aloof from the others as they pre- pared a meager meal and wolfed it. He’d never liked them; only his bit- terness had driven him to seek their reckless company. “Tvor’s yella, all right,” Kilrain had said. “But the gal’s got spunk. She the same as told me to go to blazes. She said they wouldn’t leave, and that I couldn’t make ’em. Well, mebbe I cain’t. But I shore as hell can plant "em !” “You can’t kill a woman and a kid,” Varing said softly. “Cain’t I?” Russ Kilrain growled. 95 “If they’re not outa that shack by midnight, I’ll burn it over their heads.” Varing shrugged, let the subject drop. Kilrain would carry out his threat, he knew. Kent Varing thought: Well, why not? He’d come back for vengeance against Jack Ivor. But now there was no savor to the thought. Jack Ivor’s cattle were gone, and Ivor himself was a broken, whiskey-soaked derelict, without courage or hope. Vengeance against Jack Ivor would be tasteless now. FTER EATING, Kent Varing went outside, A white moon had soared into the sky. The hills were cool and quiet and peaceful. But there was no peace in Kent Varing’s mind. He kept. seeing the shadows in Bar- bara’s tired eyes; he kept feeling the tug of a curly-haired youngster’s pudgy hands, | Barbara wouldn’t leave. She’d said, “We've got to stay here. It’s our only | chance, his only chance...” Barbara and the youngster would be better off with Jack Ivor dead. But if Ivor died, they’d die too... | Kent Varing roped his dun from the corral and saddled him. Then he went back to the cabin. It still lacked three hours till midnight. Kilrain and his four followers were seated about a rude table, dealing blackjack. : Kent Varing stood just inside the doorway. He said, “Kilrain, you'll have to pull that job tonight without me. I’m takin’ a little ride. Mebby I’ll be back, mebby not.” Surprise leaped into the eyes of Kilrain and the others. Then Russ Kilrain’s reddish eyes went bleak and wary. “You gettin’ cold feet, Var- ing?” he asked. Varing said softly. “Call it what you like. I just don’t cotton to mur- derin’ women and kids.” “So that’s it?” Kilrain purred. “You wouldn’t have any ideas about double- crossin’ us, would you, Varing?” Varing shrugged, said, “My ideas are my own business. I’m ridin’ now. And I’ll have a gun lined on this door till I’m out of sight. Adios!” He backed through the doorway and to his horse. His eyes never left the lighted doorway as he swung into oO (lO@O) S (CO) fl) GoM