2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

2-GUN WESTERN — 15 BIG STORIES! HEN KENT VARING tried to forget about Jack Ivor. Ivor’s de- sertion had cut down their already slim chances. Barbara realized that too. Her tanned face was strained and pale in the dim light. Billy, sensing at last that something awful was about ty happen, had begun to whim- er. : Kent Varing tensed suddenly. Faint, yet plainly audible on the still night air, he heard the sound of hoofs. Eyes glued to the crack in the window, he stared into the shadowy mouth of the pass three hundred yards away. He could see nothing, yet he knew that Kilrain’s renegades were coming. Then, all at once, the canyon mouth seerned to explode in a red burst of fury before Kent Varing’s eyes. A blasting roar of gunfire beat against his eardrums, and the pass was criss- crossed with writhing tongues of gun- flame. In the gunpowder torches he could see weird, leaping figures, Kent Varing leaped to his feet. He tore the barricade from in front of the door, hurled his body through the opening and started running toward the canyon mouth. The pass was still a fiery chaos of leaping flame and boiling gunsmoke, of screaming lead and yelling, confused men. ° Varing’s pumping legs seemed to carry him at a snail’s pace toward the pass. He was aware that Barbara’s slim, flying figure was beside him; he could see moonlight gleaming on the gun in her hand. Side by side, they leaped into the canyon mouth. The gunfire had slackened. Rider- less horses were pounding along the canyon. Motionless figures lay on the ground. Then two mounted figures loomed before Kent Varing.- They'd KILLER'S HERITAGE looked for me, seein’ as how Id been doin’ a lot of night ridin’ on the bandit’s trail—and seein’ how I showed up here today...” Webb was silent, mutely grateful because Bert wasn’t blaming him for the ugly suspicions he had nursed. But even if Bert had damned him to the skies, Webb would have been hap- py at that moment. For regardless of the blood of Wild Bill Leatherby, seen Varing and the girl in the moon- light, and their guns started blazing. Kent Varing heard the waspish hiss of lead; he felt a fiery sting as a bullet grazed his thigh. Then his own deadly guns started hammering and flaming. He heard the blasting roar of Barbara’s .38 beside him. Fresh sound beat back from the canyon walls. The shadows churned with cyclonic gun-fury. In the red glow, Varing saw one of the mounted figures suddenly drop his gun and tumble stiffly to the ground. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the gunfire subsided. Whipped by the chill wind, gunsmoke rolled like a fog up out of the gorge, and the ribbon of moonlight that penetrated to the floor of the canyon revealed six dead men. One of them was Russ Kilrain. Four others were his henchmen. The sixth man was Jack Ivor. Jack Ivor sat with his back against a wall, the still-smoking muzzle of his rifle thrust oVer a boulder before him.\He didn’t look scared or weak now. As he died there had been a soft smile on Jack Ivor’s gaunt, bearded face, like he was thinking of something pleas- ant, Jack Ivor had said, “Don’t you worry, button. I—I’ll take care of you!” And he had. He’d made it pos- sible for them all to live. Barbara was sobbing softly, and Kent Varing put his arm about her slim figure and led her out of the canyon—toward a future that had been purged of its bitterness and glowed bright with promise of happiness. A future made possible by a man who, afraid to live, had in the end found something worth dying for. @END (cont'd from page 90) Bert Freeman was the kind of man his foster father had wanted him to be. Bert was his son. That thought was like a hymn of joy in the heart of Webb Freeman. He cradled Bert closer to him, be- gan to wipe the blood from the boy’s face. It was thus Sheriff Anvil Shane saw the pair of them when the law- man opened his eyes a minute later... @END Comicloolkks.c©