2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

HARDCASE OR COWARD? into the cabin. The room was neat and clean, but almost bare of furnishings. It showed evidence of desperate. pov- erty. Varing asked abruptly, “Barbara, why are you here?” Her face pale and still, she said, “I tive here.” “And Jack Ivor... ?” “He lives here too. This is our son, Billy. He was born soon aiter you— went away.” “Jack Ivor brought you here—to live?” WISTFUL smile touched her red lips. “Why not? There was no-. where else to go.” Questions hammered at Kent Var- ing’s mind, and memories flooded through him. When Barbara Wayne had married Jack Ivor, without warn- ing or explanation, it had cut deeply. It had shattered his faith in humani- ty. Barbara’s head had been turned by Jack Ivor’s fancy clothes and flashy good looks, and by the pros- pect of spending some of old Buck Ivor’s cattle money, Varing ~~ had thought, | Five years ago, Buck Ivor had owned a big cow outfit. Jack Ivor had had money to squander on whis- key. and cards and women. Why, then, was Barbara here in this squalid shack? | “There was nowhere else to go,” Barbara said simply, uncomplaining- ly. “Soon after we were married, Jack’s father died. He left us the ranch. But things didn’t go well. We lost cattle. Drought came. Things went from bad to worse, and we lost the ranch, everything. That was .a year and a half ago.” There was a brave tilt to Barbara’s chin as she talked. Kent Varing sav- vied what had happened, as much from what she left unsaid as the things she said. She was still loyal to Jack Ivor. She didn’t say that Jack Ivor had gambled their ranch away, and spent it on whiskey and dance hall flossies, but Kent Varing knew that was what had happened. She didn’t admit that she’d married a weakling and a coward, but Varing knew that that knowledge too was in her mind, 93 “So we came here,” she went on as if talking helped her. “We just moved in. Nobody would live here; the place was supposed to be haunted, or some- thing. Everybody who'd ever tried to live here had been killed, or scared away. But we didn’t have any choice. We've lived here a year and a half and nothing’s happened. There’s not much room, but the ground’s fertile. We have a garden, and raise a few cattle... Kent Varing listened as she talked on. She was trying pitifully to con- vince him that she was happy and satisfied here. Varing knew she was neither. He looked at a row of empty whiskey bottles on the mantel, and had. the answer. Jack Ivor was still a weakling, a wastrel, and with him into the depths he was dragging his loyal wife and their curly-haired son. Varing knew why they hadn’t been molested here. Russ Kilrain had been away. But now he was back. A chill touched Kent Varing; momentarily, he had forgotten why he was here. Kilrain’s wolves had killed others who’d tried to live here. Kent Varing thought: Why should I warn them away? These two, Jack Ivor and Barbara Wayne, had humili- ated him, hurt him more than any- body else in the world. They’d sud- denly turned a world of brightness and hope into a place of darkness and bitterness. Let Russ Kilrain move them in his own way.... Billy had lost his shyness. He climbed hesitantly onto Kent Varing’'s lap and tugged with pudgy hands at the ivory handle of one of his six- shooters. “Are you a sher’ff?” he asked. | Varing grinned, said, “Not exact- ly, Button!” He looked. at Barbara, and knew that she guessed the truth —that he was an outlaw. b “Jack should be in soon,” Barbara - said. “He went to town this evening. I—he’ll be glad to see you. Kent, are you alone?” “No.” After all, he thought, why | should a girl and a curly-haired kid be made to suffer for Jack Ivor’s sins? He said, “Barbara, you’ve got to leave Here, es “Leave here?” She shook her head. “We couldn’t do that. We have no S CO inn COLNE DOO