2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

DANTE FALOO 43 discard, then he threw in two cards and leaned back in his chair. “Simp- son got his friends and his friends got a marshal. They put Dante in prison for attempted manslaughter.” That was the end of the story. I wanted to ask more questions but thought better of it, everyone was so still. It wasn’t till the end of the game that I found Mr. Avery chuck- ling again. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “If you ever want to bait Simpson tell him Dante’s in town. When he left for prison Dante swore in front of everyone that he’d get even with Simpson as soon as he got out. Simp- son sends a letter every week to the warden to make sure Dante is still there.” I learned more about Dante Faloo during the next year. His wife lived with her folks at the other end of town. I had never seen her, but gath- ered she was the prettiest creature God ever made. I soon found out too that the whole town had liked Dante and still did. On the other side of the fence was Simpson, still goad- ing and pressing his demands on everyone. O IT WAS with much excitement that I watched Simpson’s office this particular day. Mr. Avery and I had ridden into town as soon as we'd heard. Dante Faloo had been par- doned and was already on his way. His threat to Simpson was going to be made good. “Probably barricaded himself in that office of his,” Mr. Avery mur- mured through his mustache. “Shaking like a leaf,” put in Jim McRoberts from behind the bars. “like a leaf caught in a grand-daddy . twister!” “Where’s Dante?” I asked. Both men shrugged their shoulders. “No one knows,” Jim answered. “All I heard was that he and Sheriff Tow had been riding this way since early morning.” “He’s probably up on one of the roofs waiting,” I said, looking about at the tops of the buildings across the street, Mr. Avery shook his head. “Not Dante. He'll call a fight, right in the street, middle of it too.” Mr. McRoberts clucked his tongue. “I dunno. Wouldn’t work, I bet Simpson knows Dante’s death draw.” “But he could prod Simpson into going for a gun,” I said, sure of my hero. “J just hope he doesn’t kill him fast,” Mr. Avery growled, surprising me, “I want to see Simpson crawl.” An hour passed and nothing hap-— pened. A few of the townspeople had dared to continue their shopping and so in quick steps hurried from one store to the next, casting furtive glances behind them. But no one was leaving town, not this day. It beat a court session, and Mr. Avery de- clared he’d call it a holiday for him and me. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Steve. Simpson has bullied us small ranchers too much, I want to see Aim bullied.” © Almost an hour passed by again before a rider appeared coming stead- ily from the south, Sheriff Tow. He pulled up in front of the saloon, dismounted and tied his horse to the rail. Instead of coming in to the Slip- per, however, ke walked down the street, crossed to the other side, and knocked at Simpson’s door. It was a few minutes before it opened, “Must have piled everything he owns against it,” Mr. Avery mut- tered, his face pressed against the Slipper’s window. LE MINUTES passed before the sheriff showed again and came back to the Slipper. 2 We caught him off guard with all our questions coming at once. Finally he raised his hands to quiet us. “T’ll tell you what I told Simpson,” he said firmly. “Dante is a free man. He can and does carry a gun. My instructions were to escort him to the town limits where I was to set him free, which I did. I don’t know where he is now.” We were stymied for a minute. “Didn’t Dante say anything? Didn’t he say anything about Simp- son?” Mr. McRoberts asked. “What about the grudge?” Tow nodded his head. “He told me ™ Comichbooksneon