2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

HARDCASE OR COWARD? touched the curly head. He opened his lips as if to speak, then closed them. Kent Varing said to Barbara, “Then you won't leave?” She shook her head. “I won't leave. But you'd better go now, Kent; it may be too late in a little while.” Varing shook his own head. An odd exaltation had lifted inside him. He said, “If you stay, Barbara, I stay. We'll fight.” There was nothing to do, except wait. They talked little. Barbara was quiet-eyed, tense. Billy huddled again with his puppy in his arms. Jack Ivor had quieted some; several times he drank from the quart bottle on the mantel. But he was still nervous. He paced the floor, the rifle in his hands. ARBARA had nailed thick boards over the windows, leaving cracks to fire through. They barricaded the doors. Kent Varing crouched at a win- dow, where he could watch through a chink the dim trail that snaked through the narrow canyon pass three hundred yards above the _ cabin. Through this pass Russ Kilrain and his gun-wolves would come. Kent Varing smiled sardonically in the dim lamplight. Kent Varing, out- law, waiting to fight, probably die, for the very ones who had driven him out onto the owlhoot! He knew they wouldn't have much of a _ chance against Kilrain’s killers. They could hold them off a while, but there could be but one ending. Barbara and Jack Ivor must have realized that too. But the girl showed no signs of fear or regret. She had nothing to lose, perhaps nothing to gain. But she meant to fight. Varing looked at Jack Ivor. Ivor had paused beside the pallet Billy’s pudgy fingers were tugging at the tattered leg of Ivor’s levis. He heard Billy say, “Daddy, you won't let anybody hurt me, will you?” Jack Ivor started, looked down at the boy. He said hoarsely, “I—don’t you worry, button. I—I'll take care of you.” Then Ivor went to the mantel, reached a shaking hand for the bottle. Kent Varing turned back to the win- dow. He didn’t feel any contempt for 97 Jack Ivor’s weakness and cowardice now. A coyote couldn’t change into a wolf. Jutting against the moonlit sky, Kent Varing could see dark moun- tains. The mountains looked friendly and inviting; the silvery moonlight gleaming on their crests looked like a beckoning finger. Beyond _ those mountains was safety for Kent Var- ing; here in this cabin was death. There was yet time to ride. Kent Varing grimaced in the dim light. Guns in hand, he hunkered lower beside the window. He knew that midnight was almost at hand. Any minute now Russ Kilrain would come... He heard Billy ask, where’s my daddy?” Varing turned. Jack Ivor wasn’t in the room. Now Varing remembered hearing Ivor in the kitchen a little while before, moving something about. Strengthening the barricade, he'd thought. Barbara was looking at Kent Var- ing, a mute question in her eyes. Var- ing got to his feet, went into the tiny back room. Jack Ivor wasn’t there. The barricade had been pulled aside; the door was slightly ajar. Jack Ivor was gone. He replaced the barricade, returned to the front room. He looked into Bar- bara’s wide, questioning eyes, and nodded. Barbara bowed her head, and Varing thought he heard a sob. He went back to his vigil at the window. Billy had crossed to his mother. He asked, “Where's my daddy? He said he’d take care of me.” “Daddy’ll—be back in a little while,” Barbara said. “He'll take care of us. You go back and lie down.” “Mummy, Harsh anger rioted through Kent Varing. Jack Ivor was lower even than he'd thought. To save his own cow- ardly hide, Ivor had deserted his wife and child just when they needed him most. Varing remembered what Bar- bara had said a little while ago: “If you want to be a man, you'll never have a better chance than to be one right here, tonight!” Jack Ivor hadn't taken _ that chance.,, MIGIIOO CO CO