2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

DANTE FALOO | 45 That’s all I ever got, contradic- tions that might fit any man in town; not a single description that would point him out! So after lunch I went out and began to walk the street, not knowing who to look for, but hoping. Come to find out everyone else was searching for him too, but not too hard since he and Simpson were playing no parlor game. Sheriff Tow sat himself in a chair on the Slip- per’s porch and stayed there. After I went and sat next to him, I had a hunch he knew where Dante was.: “He’s sure keeping himself hid,” I mentioned offhand. Tow chewed on a cigar, rocking back and forth in the chair, saying not a word,—just looking down at Simpson’s office with a sort of glint in his eye. ; BOUT TWO hours before dusk Simpson hurried out of his place and came up to us. “I’ve thought it over, Tow. Ap- parently Dante’s playing a game, or he’s yellow.” Even from where I was sitting I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve got work to do,—can’t expect to wait all day for him to get up nerve to face me.” He swaggered a little over that. Mr. Avery was standing in the doorway. He started to say some- thing but Simpson waved him silent. “I know he’s going to try to kill me. He’s fool enough to have held onto that threat all these years. But I’m not going to wait for him to pick a time for his fancy.” We were all silent. “Thought I’d tell you, I’m not hunting for trouble, I won’t be the first to draw. I’m not afraid of him. If he’s afraid of me, we’ll- know pretty soon.” He puffed out then, pretty proud. Simpson nodded his head and walked into the Slipper. We waited till he came out again. “Where is he?” he asked thickly. “Perhaps you’d better go home,” Tow suggested calmly, “You’re in no condition to do anything sensible.” “I uever liked you, Tow. You’re an elected officer remember, and I’ve got friends—” Tow interrupted firmly. “Let your friends help you now, Simpson. You’ve been threatening this town with your friends and your friends’ friends until no one has dared do anything. Well, you’re on your own now. No friends to help you ’cause you haven’t got any friends. Now maybe we'll all wake up and see what kind of a man you are.” I never guessed Tow had it in him. Neither did Simpson, for he didn’t say a thing, just turned and walked off the porch and down the street. Mr. Avery and McRoberts who were just inside the Slipper’s door heard all this. They stood there like they’d lost their wits. “You talk to him like that?” Mr. Avery stammered. The sheriff gnawed on his cigar and glared up at my boss. “’Bout time someone did. I just suddenly got danged tire of being pushed back by a blow-hard that only slings words. “That’s what’s wrong with us all. If he’d throw bullets it would be different. That’s what we’re used to. But when some book-learning gent comes in and throws big words and fancy talk at us, we’re buffaloed. “Well, Dante made me realize what we've been doing. Decided I’d sling some words myself.” “He’s a pretty powerful man, Tow,” McRoberts said uneasy like, “So you think, so I thought,” the sheriff muttered. “I s’pect we'll see a change by night.” I chuckled. “Dante Faloo.” Again we waited. I wasn’t the one for waiting patiently, so I was sure glad I wasn’t Simpson. Dante was really torturing the man keep- ing him guessing all these hours. SHOT AND a woman’s scream b.ought the four of us to our feet. Off we dashed, Tow in the lead, toward the sound of some woman’s yelling. Tow pulled his gun as he stepped through a store door, the rest of us found window space. In the middle of the room Simpson was holding a smoking .45 and staring at a small boy being clutched by an hysterical mother. “He tried to kill my boy,” she screamed at the sheriff. s, ConmicOokxs.conn