2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

52 2-GUN WESTERN Two Ticks catapulated with a wild squeal into the arena. Duke was at the chute. He yelled, “Watch him on the fence!” Patsy heard the cry through the crowd's roar. He had a glimpse of the Duke close to the chute and there was someone with him. A girl and she had her hand on Duke’s arm in a tense way. Annabel saw he’d seen her and she waved her other hand. Then Two Ticks whirled away, in a dizzying spin, and Patsy forgot everything ex- cept the surging maddened animal between his legs. Two Ticks wasn’t a conventional bucker. The horse, uncannily smart, knew all the usual tricks and a few of his own. Sunfishing across the arena to the fence, Patsy remembered the outlaw’s liking for smashing a rider. Close to the fence, Two Ticks switched ends with a lightning-like motion and caromed into the steel barrier. That was how he did it. And Patsy’s remembrance saved him, even if he was thinking of Annabel and wondering why she was there at the fairgrounds. Squealing, Two Ticks came away from the fence and pinwheeled and bucked, head between forelegs and hind hoofs reaching for the sky. There was pure torture in Patsy’s leg now, burning torture. He lost a stirrup and on the next spin, with a gone feeling, he went through the air and landed on his shoulders. He heard the crowd groan and saw _the lethal hoofs thrashing the air above him. He rolled clear and the ground shuddered under the impact of slashing iron-shod hoofs. Two Ticks shook his head wildly, foaming, screaming, and came again as the pickup and hazers closed in. Patsy couldn’t stand. He heard the crowd groan again as Two Ticks came in on his hind legs, front hoofs thrashing, squealing his rage and = Wate... ATSY AWOKE with the blue sky blotted out by faces that resolved themselves into the doctor who was saying, “Your riding days are over, Patsy.” The other face said, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, Patsy, Duke told us everything.” That was Anna- bel, her lovely cream-colored face the color of a ripe peach, her lips red and full and quivering. Dutch had something of the old light in his eyes when he asked, “Why didn’t you tell us, boy?” Why didn’t you?” Patsy struggled to get to his feet and Annabel and Duke helped him. He said, “Let’s forget it. Forget it ae ‘The crowd was behind them, the roar muted in the late afternoon, far away at the fairgrounds. Patsy, lean- ing on Annabel, led the way, with Duke and Dutch. behind. They walked along the railroad trackage to the loading pens. Patsy stood there, feeling the strength and vitality of the girl beside him, her warmth and love flowing out as he watched her face. He pointed to the herd of blooded Herefords, “That’s the kind of stuff we want to get,” he said. “Will you be happy, Patsy, away from the crowd?” He had his arm around her slender waist. He leaned down and her lips came up to meet his own. After awhile, he finally got it out: “The rodeo was just for one thing: to get the Running S back cn its feet.” “IT know, Patsy, I know,” she whis- pered huskily. + There was a good fceling inside him as he watched Dutch and Duke point out to each other the good features of the breeder herd, taking care, both of them, to keep their backs turned to Patsy and Annabel. e END ~ COMmMicloooKks.conn