2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

LAST OF THE LOBOS | 79 that day in the street, Jack,” he said slowly. | “Of course it was, Will.” Linda Taylor shot a quick glance at Grif- fith. “But you say Durant’s still around.” He was scowling now, feel- ing his own rudeness before the girl, but demanding to know. “Does your new civilization include harboring skunks and Land Office coyotes as pets? Or do you dress em up so they look like Chihuahuas?” He saw the blood come up beneath the man’s full features, and again the suspicion was there, strong and won- dering. “Please, Will.” The girl’s hand was on his upon the cloth. “After all, it’s not Jack’s fault Lou is still in Junc- tion City. Lou Durant was fired from the Land Office.job he had, for hir- ing gunmen to run the cattlemen off the Company land he was selling to the farmers. The main office didn’t like his methods. In fact, after the wound you gave him healed, he stood trial for some of the shootings that had taken place earlier...” “Dad’s, I suppose.’ Will Bowman was getting it all now, and the more he heard, he realized, the less he liked. He spoke harshly, disregarding the girl. “And they let him go and gave him a nice, shiny medal for clearing the country of gun-crazy fools who thought they had a right to their own land!” It was the same old bitterness, but he couldn’t help it when he thought of Lou Durant. “And what are you going to do with © me in your new civilization, Jack? Give me anice new chihuahua coat to hide my sins and turn me out to graze on a thirty-a-month job on my own ranch? Is that it, Jack?” “Will!” The girl straightened in her chair. . But Will Bowman would not let go. “I signed the Bar Bench over to you, Jack, because Durant was push- ing that phoney note he got the old man to sign. Then after the shoot- ing, when I had to leave town, I left it in your name because I thought you were my best friend! Now I see I was wrong about having to leave the country. Was I wrong about the rest too, Jack?” ‘~~ - Will,” he said. “I'll get things in or- But there was soft movement be- yond Will’s shoulder, and as he looked around Lou Durant waa-there, smiling, distinguished in black, the huge diamond in his cravat sparkling beneath the chandelier that was lit against the rain-darkened day out- side. And as he met the man’s glance he saw mockery of the anger he knew to be in his own eyes. “Will,’? The man’s recognition was precise, like the rest of him. Too pre- cise, “And Miss Taylor. Congratula- tions, Jack. You’re a lucky man.” Durant’s bow was more of a sug- gestion than reality, but Will Bow- man was no longer seeing the man and his slow smile and precisely waving, dark hair that was turning so exactly grey at the temples. Congratulations! The word had riveted Will to his chair. He’d been a fool! A blamed, blithering idiotic fool to think... But what in the devil had he thought, any- way? And now, when he could trust himself to look, he saw the ring there on her finger, his eyes travelling slowly to her face, meeting the half- afraid, half-smiling look of her and seeing her glance away to the man. who was supposedly his own best ene, to Jack Griffith across the table. “Sorry if I’ve interrupted some- thing private.” Durant’s voice was laughing at Will Bowman, there in his ear. “But drop by my place—l’ve got the Valley Star Saloon now, Will, I think we've got a few things to talk over.” He was gone then, to a table against the far wall, and Will was coming to his feet as Jack Griffith arose. Grif- fith was removing Linda Taylor’s chair and Will met the girl’s eyes as she came around on his side, her hand grasping his arm as she looked up at im. “I thought you’d see the ring, Will,” she said, uncertainly. “I was waiting for you to say something.” “Yes. Of course.” Will’s face felt dry, cracked, as he tried to smile. “Congratulations. Both of you. Con- gratulations, Jack.” . Griffith’s expansion came again. His smile was generous. “Come out to the ranch tomorrow or next day, ——_— = a COMIGOOOKSAGCOM —