2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

DEAD MAN'S HAND 43 “Poler thinks we’ve got him dead to rights. We'll play hell taking him alive without a tough fight. There are likely eight men down there any- way, and pretty soon he’ll know there are only four of us.” A yell of pain and a rifle shot ierced the air at almost the same instant. “Three,’ said Ken Ralston. Cliff Bristow lurched from behind a tree, his shoulder spurting blood, and fell in a heap at his brother’s feet. Jim tore open his shirt and began to tend him. Jep and Ralston watched from the corners of their eyes. Jim Bristow looked up. “I think he’ll be all right, but he won't be doin’ much shooting with that right hand for a while. Damn that lousy Poler and his. slicks.” He punctuated - his words by emptying his sixgun at the cabin. : Te SUN began to climb higher in the sky. Both sides settled down to await the other’s move. Only spasmodic bursts of gunfire split the stillness. Jep and-the others kept changing positions in an effort to keep Poler from knowing how few were pitted against him. “We won't get anywhere this way,” Jep said as the morning wore on. “Pretty soon they’ll come bustin’ out of there and either make a run for it or spread out and try to finish us off, Keen, I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot, but it just might be crazy enough to work.” He rapidly outlined the plan to Ralston and the Bristows. Jim nodded and crept back to his horse. “Cliff, can you you throw lead with your left hand?” Jep asked. “T can throw it,” Cliff replied, “but I ain’t sayin’ what I can hit.” “You just keep pumping if you have to. Ralston and I are going down now to visit Ben... I’m com- ing down to talk to you, Ben!” Jep shouted. “Keep your boys off and we'll prevent a lot of bloodshed.” “Come ahead, Sheriff, but keep your hands up.” Keen Ralston began to crawl rapid- ly in the brush to the cabin’s flank. A dusty road trailed from the clear- ing off into the trees and up into the hills. He worked as close to the road as he could and still remain unseen, Jep walked slowly toward the cab- in, stopping ten yards before he reached it. The door was opened wari- ly, and Ben Poler, Deck Koogler and a burly gunnie stepped out in the morning sun. Poler stood with his legs spread wide apart. “I’m listenin’, Sheriff, “but it had better be good. I know you ain’t got but three men, and there’s five more in the cabin right behind us.” 3 Jep spoke slowly, letting the words sink in, He was playing for high stakes, and if he lost this hand it would be his last. “You’re wrong, Ben. We've just been waiting you out. Jim Bristow left long ago for Pomeroy. He’ll be back any minute with Sheriff Benton and a posse, and a sworn statement that you and Koogler killed Shattuck. I don’t fig- ure they’ll feel much like playin’. You’ve got just five minutes to sur-. render to me, or your boys will end up in the same trouble as you and Koogler. Surrender now and I'll see that you all get a fair trial.” N UNEASY shuffling and mut- tering came from the cabin, for Jep’s voice had carried as he'd in- tended, to Poler’s men, They clearly hadn’t counted on this. play. “You're bluffing, Jep.” Poler’s lips were a bloodless line. He was trying desperately to save his hide, but he knew the sands were running out. He glanced back at the cabin and swallowed hard, his adam’s apple running up and down the stubbled column of his neck. “You know we can blow our way out of here, and you'll go first.” ~ “So you think I’m bluffing. Loo® there.” Jep pointed to the road, Above the line of trees and hills rose a fat cloud of dust moving rapidly, such as would be made by a large party of riders pounding hell-for-leather down the road. Poler swung his head around and wet his lips. His eyes dilated with fury and he stepped back, hand drop- ping toward his gun. “Damn you, Parnell,” he hissed, “if I’m goin’ to hell I’m takin’ you with me.” Ben Poler’s Colt came up and flame belched from the muzzle, but Jep’s .44 crashed an instant before. Poler’s shot plowed into the dirt, and CoOMmMmicdooksico