2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

THE BIG HAND 51 himself a cigarette and when he put it between his lips a match flared and he got it lighted and Duke Ed- wards waved the match out and broke the stick between his fingers and let it fall. “Better think again and not ride, Patsy,” Duke said. And even as he spoke a twinge ran from his hip to his toes. “My leg feels better,” Patsy said. “Mine felt better that day, too,” Duke said. “It was a day like this, Patsy. Stands full, sun shining hot. It hasn’t shone much since.” “I feel okay,” Patsy said. “Would it make any difference if you drew Two Ticks?” Duke asked. Patsy shook his head. Duke sighed. “That’s the one you drew,” he said: and slipped to the ground, Duke was dressed the part of a clown now, baggy pants, tight coat, broken down boots with enormous Spurs and grease paint on his face. His trained jenny charged across the field and the next moment Duke was astride her and the crowd chuck- led. Duke’s face turned in Patsy’s direction for a moment and then he was unreeling his act. The gate behind Patsy opened and a big black horse, ears back and teeth bared, lunged into the chute and brought up short against the buck- out gate. One of the handlers grinned and said, “There’s old Two Ticks for you, Patsy. Rarin’ to go.” Patsy got down as the handlers climbed the fence to saddle Two Ticks. They’d have a worse job than he for a few minutes, he thought. The black fought every motion as they dropped the blanket and saddle into place. 7 Two ‘Ticks wasn’t an ordinary bucker. No ordinary wild horse. His disposition and temperament, unlike -a lot of rodeo horses, made him fight handlers and rider alike. His main point was a homicidal mania. Tie was termed “dangerous.” He’d smashed Duke’s leg the last time by ramming a fence, one of his best tricks, And had turned Duke’s old injury into a permanent crippling. The black had gone on to smash Patsy’s leg, first show of the season, the year before, Patsy felt a tight knot in his belly, thinking of the fates that had thrown them together again, The show was starting. Duke was going off the field hanging to the jenny’s tail as the announcer drawled, “First bronc riding feature of the day, Ben Kelso, on Tipperary, coming out of gate number one. Ben Kelso, folks, let’s give him a big hand.” There was a scattering of applause. “They're saving the big hand for you, Patsy,’ Tobe Newman grinned. “You and Two Ticks ought to put On a show today. He’s hot as a two- dollar pistol.” Ben Kelso made a solid, if not spectacular ride and there was a flut- ter of applause as he switched to the pickup’s horse without touching the ground. Tipperary was resisting the hazers who crowded him into the fence. The announcer was calling the second ride, Bob Akin on Double Duty, as Patsy went around behind the chute and unbuckled his belt and let his levi’s fall around his knees while he adjusted his leg brace. There was a deepseated throb in his knee and it sent flashes of pain toward his hip and to his toes. He took another notch in the brace and pulled up his pants as the announcer said, “That was a mighty fine ride, folks, by Bob Akin on Double Duty! These boys risk their lives riding these outlaw horses, folks! It just looks easy! Give him a big hand!” EES WESTERN band struck up a lively tune as Patsy climbed the fence and crouched there above Two Ticks, his chaps flapping in the light, hot wind, The horse flattened his ears | and walled his eyes and tried to take the fence out. “The hometown boy,” the announc- er brayed, “Patsy Mooney on that double dose of dynamite, Two Ticks! Watch Gate number three, folks. You'll see a ride this afternoon.” Two Ticks rose on his hind legs and pawed at gate number three. “Get him down,” Patsy said. “We're tryin’,” the handlers cursed and hauled. Patsy dropped into the saddle and the gate went open. He got his boots shoulder-high for the first scratch ag CORMCIOOKS colin