2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

16 2-GUN WESTERN to Mr. Johnstone at the 2 R ranch?” “No! Too many rubbernecks. I’ll have to ride ten miles to tell him the cattle deal’s off. A good deal, too. He’d have sold me two hundred cows and taken my note for the full amount at only five percent interest.” “Oh,” said Blanche. “Listen! That’s our ring!” ANCE SNATCHED the receiver. “Hello? This is the D K Ranch ...How’r’ you, Mrs. Maxwell?... You think you can relay my message to Johnstone?...Thanks. I want to tell—_ What is it, Blache?” Close to his ear, Blanche’s soft lips were whispering, “You don’t want everybody to know your priv- ate business. Why not say you'll see Mr. Johnstone later?” A musculine voice came over the wire. “T’ll help you too, Lance. What you want to tell old .man Johnstone?” “You get off the line, Jerry Fras- er,’ snapped Mrs. Maxwell. “I but- ted in first...Hello, Lance?” Blanche pushed in front of Lance and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Lance just went out.” “And who are you, dearie? I don’t recognize your voice.” Lance hung up the receiver. “You're right, Blanche. I don’t want all the old hens gossiping about my business.” ““Old hens’? Shush!...What will you need to fix the pig pen, Lance?” “Nails, hammer, saw, boards... No, doggone it! I’ve got to lope to the Circle Three calf roundup. I may as well tell you, dear greenhorn— Alec Potter’s offered me a job at one hundred bucks a month, and I’m go- ing to take it.” “All right, Lance. But those little piggies can’t stay cooped up in the crate, and I’m afraid I can’t.. ” “Come on. We'll fix the pen.” With Blanche handing him tools and nails, Lance temporarily forgot his problems and his disgruntlement. Forgot the swift flight of time, too as Blanche talked about her school days and youthful activities, and her more recent interest in livestock which had prompted her to attend the National Westen Live Stock Show. “The cattle and horses fascinated me,’ she enthused. “I decided that someday I’d raise prize-winning steers, I saved all the money I could earn, yet I hadn’t nearly enough to buy a ranch until my grandmother left me a neat inheritance.” “So you had the cash to buy this D K,” Lance commented. “How did you like the rodeo part of the Stock Show ?” “It was breathtaking.” Lance mopped the sweat dripping from his face and brow. “Did you see me there?” Blanche hesitated an instant be- fore saying slowly, “I could hardly be expected to remember any one face among so many contestants. You were there, Lance?” “Yes. When I failed to make a stake, I decided I’d best stick to cow- punching.” 3 “Meaning you’d rather be just a cowman ?” “A cowman owns cattle. I’m still nothing but a cowpoke.” He drove nails Blanche handed to him, using only her right hand, her left still in its white bandage. At last he lifted the pig crate carefully into the finished pen and knocked loose the cleats, while Blanche talked soothingly to the bewildered little pigs. “Aren’t they cute little dar- lings.” Lance squatted on his spurs, grin- ning up at the enthusiastic girl. “All little things are cute—calves, colts, kittens, puppies. I s’pose every wom- an considers babies ’cute little dar- lings.” ? “Tt adore babies! You would too, Lance, if you were a baby’s father.” “Not much likelihood of that,” con- fused. “Well, Pll be Grifting.” He walked toward his horse. . “Before you go,’ Blanche called, gathering up the tools,“please corral my horses. If you aren’t going to teach me to ride I must do the best IT can by myself.” psks LOPED into the pasture and brought in the horses. Two heavy-bodied mares had saucy colts which Blanche admired greatly. There were also two work teams, several two-and three-year-old un- broken fillies and. geldings.. and, a