2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

SAFE CONDUCT | 27 him on the open desert. Two nights before, the Stockmen’s Bank at Hassayampa, the county seat, had been broken into and a tri- fle over thirteen thousand, five hun- dred dollars in greenbacks had been stolen. Three fresh and_ separate trails had led out of town. Follow- ing one of them at random, Baxter had picked up Williams and thirty- five hundred dollars of the loot. The small take had been his first clue that Toad Williams, a dull- witted hoodlum who trotted at the heels of those really tough characters Slim Scanlon and/ Chuck Madden, hadn’t pulled the job alone. The ap- pearance of the two sets of strange hoofprints was his second clue. On Scanlon’s and Madden’s persons, he was confident, would be found the remainder of the stolen money, He had no intention, however, of going after that money. Handicapped with one prisoner already, he could hardly hope to take any more—not men as formidable as Slim Scanlon and Chuck Madden. Nor did he feel any need for doing so. Toad Williams was his ace-in-the-hole, the means by which the other two would even- tually be apprehended anyway. His chief concern for the present was to get Williams safely to the county jail. An hour ago that task would have meant nothing; now it - presented quite a problem. For there was no hope of his being able to by- pass Scanlon and Madden on his way to Hassayampa. Only one trail led across the Sawtooth Range to the county seat—the one though Pinion Pass. S HE DREW nearer to the moun- tains, the terrain began to change. Level sand and sage gave way to dry washes, rock ridges and mesas, through and over and around which he rode cautiously, his right hand at his hip, But no one chal- lenged him; the two sets of hoof- prints continued to follow the trail as before. His growing fear became a conviction. Scanlon and Madden were waiting for him at Pinion Pass. And Pinion Pass was a trap. The trail rounded a mesa, descended a gravel wash and came to the bank of a river, Not a large stream, Coy- ote River, but filled to its banks at this season of the year by those melt- ing snowcaps above. Here it passed over level ground, but half a mile to the south it entered Coyote Canyon, a winding slit between high sand- stone walls, where it tore its way along in a series of rapids and whirl- pools, The only means of crossing the river at this point was by old Jake Norden’s crude ferryboat, which was poled along by hand and kept on its course by a heavy steel cable. Evi- dently Norden had seen the pair ap- proaching, for he’d already left his shack on the other side and was starting the boat on its way. While the sheriff waited, his gaze traveled up the side of the mountain and came to rest frowningly upon Pinion Pass, Might be a good idea to hang back till nightfall, he thought. He’d be a sitting duck for Scanlon and Madden in daylight. On the other hand, their ears would en- able them to detect his approach just as well in the darkness and they’d be able to see his figure almost as well against the lighter background of the sky. He stole a glance at Toad Wil- liams and found that he too was gaz- ing up at the pass, a satisfied grin on his fat foolish-looking face. That smile exasperated Baxter. Maybe they were both wrong, he reflected hopefully. Maybe those two sets of hoofprints weren’t made by Scanlon and Madden after all. As soon as the ferryboat touched the bank, he said to Norden, “Two other riders come through here this morning?” The old ferryman seemed to take in the situation at a glance, but no sign of emotion showed in his gaunt face. “Reckon they did, Sheriff.” “Slim Scanlon and Chuck Mad- den?” Norden dropped his eyes and led the horses aboard the boat. “Don’t oe anybody by them names, Sher- i Fd “Well, what'd they look like? One tall and red-headed, the other short and dark?” The ferryman picked up his pole COM{|C DOOKSs CORA