2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

62 2-GUN WESTERN ordinary squaw. This was a half- breed. Her father had been an itinerant French trader and her mother was a Blood. From her father she had in- herited an olive-complexioned beau- ty and deep-deer eyes that could melt the Milk River ice in February. And history records that when she turned those doe-like orbs on one Mike Fink his sturdy heart did flip- flops with and of joy. She was the girl for him! But Carpenter also was aware of the dusky female’s curvaceous~beau- ty. And Carpenter was no retiring male—he was not one to stand to one side and see the love of his life wooed and won by his brother trap- per. é O THEY both set out to win the hand of the maiden, whose name history does not seem to remember. Had the girl been all-Indian un- doubtedly she would have shared her favors with both but alas—from her French father she had apparently inherited scruples! Early in the courtship this fact became apparent to Fink and Carpenter and more so to Mike Fink, because the half-breed plainly favored Carpenter...and this hurt more than the fact he could not win her. Love was one thing, but pride was even stronger. “I’m gonna make her my wife,” Fink told Carpenter. “I’m gonna marry her!” He must have paused at this moment and reflected upon the irony of having scruples. Was he slipping his trap-chain? Him, get- ting married! Then his pride flowed in, strong and demanding, and made him say, “She ain’t gonna marry you, Carpenter!” “She’s gonna marry me,” ter said strongly. They stood nose-to-nose and belly- to-belly with their fists clenched and they glared at each othér like two bull moose ready too entangle their horns. Talbeau watched and chewed tobacco and shifted his moccasins and glanced covertly at the Blood maiden. This was getting serious. He wanted the trio to stay together, for in numbers was strength and in strength was safety. His job was to keep peace between these two tree- Carpen- benders, and accordingly he moved his scant bulk into the breech. “Boys, don’t fight over this squaw. You two are buddies, and they’s thousands of loose squaws roamin’ aroun’—” “T ain’t that kind of a woman,” the halfbreed said angrily. “The man who gets me has to marry me, and I want—” She stopped then, blushing as her eyes rested on Carpenter. There was a deep silence. Mike Fink took another long drink of Taos Lightnin’. “I know you kinda cotton to this fella here,’ he rumbled from his massive chest, “but he ain’t the man for you, woman. Come a few days an’ you'll get dog- tired of him! What you need is a man like I am—tough and strong an’ one who can satisfy you in every way!” “You don’t make them remarks about me,” Carpenter roared angri- ly. “I can take you in marbles or settin’ traps or a fist fight or any- thing you want to name, Fink!” “They ain’t no use of us beatin’ each other outa shape,’ Mike Fink said. “We've tried thet before an’ al- wavs fit to a draw. We oughta settle this some other way, Carpenter.” The halfbreed watched, dark eyes worried now. She wanted Carpenter and she would take no other...un- less the other was forced on her! It was Talbeau who again intervened. “What plan you got to settle this, Mike?” demanded the small French- man, “Well, we could shcot cans,” Mike said slowly, grinning all the time. Then to Carpenter, “Or are you afraid to shoot it out that way with me, Carpenter? Is thet your knees I hear a-knockin’?” “I can outshoot you any day of the week,” Carpenter fumed, “an’ twice on Sunday.” “This ain’t Sunday,’ Mike Fink said. He turned to the halfbreed maiden. “That set well with you, Sweetheart?” Before she could an- swer he was speaking again to Car- penter. “We'll take turns, and the man what misses the can first, loses. We have to draw to see who shoots first. Ain’t thet right, Talbeau?” (please turn to page 91) Coml€e€soolks.conm