2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

fore he pitched from saddle. He lay sprawled on his back, staring up banjo-eyed at the starry sky that looked like silver studs holding in place a vast blue-black lid. G iors eit was dead even be- Whoever had picked off Shattuck was a dead shot with a .30-30, and Sheriff Jep Parnell knew that the seven gunnies siding the killer would be equally handy with sixshooters... The big claybank nuzzled Shattuck gently and tossed his head when the man failed to move. Whinnying soft- ly, the horse then turned and gal- loped back the way he’d come—along the winding bed of the Rake. The riv- er was low—there had been little rain in Sassafee Valley—and the clay- bank’s hoofs shot occasional sparks as he pounded back toward Tonka City. The Mineral Saloon was quiet, al- | most empty. Sheriff Jep Parnell straightened in his chair and glanced. at the clock behind the bar. The _hands lacked five minutes till mid- night. He threw down his cards and stood up. “I don’t like this business.” Parnell was tall, almost gaunt, and his gray eyes narrowed in their wide-set sock- ets. His blond hair was in sharp con- trast to the brown planes of his face. “Shattuck shouldn’t have gone by himself.” ; He stepped through the swinging [ DICK BAIRD doors, and the three cattlemen still seated at the table could hear the clump of his heels on the planking | of the porch. 40 The victim was directly in his sights. comic ooks.co