2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

66 2-GUN WESTERN stove-pipe chimney. Del was cooking supper. He dismounted in the shelter of some scrub oak, walked up the weed- grown trail. The man inside heard the sound of his arrival over the sizzle of meat on the stove; he came to the door with a rifle ready in his hands. But when he saw who it was, Brannon’s face lighted up with joy and he yelled out greeting. “Lee!” he shouted. “Lee Kirk! Damn, but it’s good to see you!” Misery ate at Kirk’s heart as he saw Del’s grin, felt the hand slap- ping his back, let himself be ushered into the shack and set down in the only chair. Brannon didn’t suspect anything, either. No more than Jimmy had. Sure, Kirk was a deputy sheriff; he had the badge on his shirt now. But that didn’t make any difference. He was Del’s friend. “How’d you find out where I was?” Del wanted to know. “Jimmy told me,” Lee muttered, “Oh, sure.” Now Brannon was at the stove, spearing meat with a rusty fork. “You’re just in time to have something to eat with me. This ain’t exactly the style there used to be on my ranch, but it'll have to do.” HE BROUGHT two plates of | food, two cups of steaming cof- fee; ragged up a packing box and faced Kirk across the rickety table. “Where'd you get all the vittles?” asked Kirk. Brannon merely nodded, knowing- ly. “I’m making out.” He start€d to eat, heartily. “How you doing lately? Been busy?” Kirk nodded, watching Brannon eat. He didn’t want any himself. Didn’t think he could choke any of it down. It was bad enough to sit here and see the way Del tore into his food, with the eagerness of a hun- gry man, and blissfully secure in his knowledge of Kirk’s friendship. He shrugged, heavily. The longer this thing dragged out, the harder it was going to be to go through with it. But his fingers shook a little as they reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the legal paper. He couldn't look at Brannon; just dropped the warrant on the table top _ because of the information 1. comm and said, miserably: “This is for you, ‘Del. I’m sorry.” He heard the hiss of his friend’s indrawn breath, the clatter of knife and fork as they dropped into his plate. Then there was silence. A painful silence that weighed heavier with every lagging second. Slowly, then, Lee Kirk raised his head, looked at Del Brannon-gaped into the black muzzle of the six-gun in Brannon’s fist. “That’s the deal is it?” Del’s face’ was twisted with his sorrow and the beginning of anger. “That’s your kind of friendship! Gettin’ Jimmy to tell you where I was, and then riding up here knowing I wouldn’t suspect anything when I saw you coming, even if you did have a tin star on your chest, Because we’d been friends for eight years!” “I’m sorry, Del,” Kirk repeated, doggedly. “I couldn’t help this. I tried to get out of it; but it couldn't be done!” “The devil it couldn’t! Well, I’m telling you, Kirk: you ain’t taking me in! Nobody is gonna put me be- hind bars!” Futilely, Kirk tried to reason with him, even as his hands struggled up- ward in the face of that six-gun in Brannon’s grasp, knowing talk was useless. “It would only be for a few years, Del. After all, you didn’t actu- ally kill Shipton; although I guess he’ll use all his power to see that you do get sent up for some kind of a term. But when it’s all over, you'll be square with the world and can make a new start. That’d be better than dodging thé law all the rest of your life. There’s Jimmy to think of—” “It’s Jimmy I am thinking about! What’s he gonna do all those years I’m in the pen?” Kirk said: “I’ll look after him.” Del snorted at that. “After you used him to find out where I was hiding, do you think he’s apt to want to have anything much to do with you again?” Brannon shook his head. “No, Kirk! It’s no go. I’m not ridin’ back with you. I’ve met some guys since. I been on the dodge—hombres that are willing to throw in with me