2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

LAST OF THE LOBOS 83 to know I built it and I own it! To meet other men and see that know- ledge in them! To know... Oh, for—” He cursed abruptly, bitterly, and turned away. Jack Griffith crossed the room, pouring whiskey from a decanter that stood on a heavy, oaken side-board. He offered Will a glass, and even that simple motion, so unintentionally possessive, added fuel to the flame of Will’s resentment. “You ought to take it easy a few days, Will. A good, soft mattress and some of Wong’s special cooking. And spend some time in the saddle, look- ing the place over again; kind of get the hang of things. We'll figure something on that note of Lou’s. Have him out to dinner and talk the thing over one night this week.” “We'll figure it out now, Jack! And as long as I draw breath, Lou Durant will never step foot on the Bar Bench! “I own the Bar Bench, Jack!” He whispered the words at the man. “And don’t you ever forget it!” J i STOOD that way a long moment, eyes clashing. But Jack Griffith was the first to bend. It is not man’s way to face the lobo empty- handed and alone. “All right, Will.” Griffith’s face was wooden as he turned again to the desk. The big man set his glass beside the ledgers he’d shown Will Bowman and, taking a key from his pocket un- locked a small drawer beside the open-faced pigeon holes. He brought out a long, legal-looking fold of paper and handed it to Will. “You won't like what you see there, Will,” he said, “But you asked for it and there it is!” Will scanned the paper swiftly, slowing as his lean features twisted in disbelief. As he finished the page of legal print his eyes raised to the man who had been his friend, the pa- _ per crumpling, unfelt, in the tighten- ing ball of his fist. “T—I said you wouldn’t like it, Will, but you've got to remember the circumstances...” Confidence had suddenly deserted the older man and for the first time Will Bowman was seeing the avarice, the shifting, fur-_ tive greed that crawled like a thing unclean through the desires and am- bition of Jack Griffith. “Circumstances?” Will echoed the word savagely. “I remember a hell of a lot more than that, Jack! But I don’t remember anything that says you can’t kill a thieving coyote when you catch him!” For the space of a second Jack Griffith stood before the flaming an- ger in Will’s eyes, color burning be- neath his own features with the whip of the insult. He moved then, his hand coming up from a desk drawer with the menacing ugliness of a derringer. Will stepped in as he saw the gleam of metal in the man’s hand, almost glad for the excuse, putting his shoul- der behind the blow and feeling the satisfaction as his fist connected high on Griffith’s jaw. Following, he hit the man again, savagely, and a third time as Griffith fell, crashing against the solid wall. “If you move another step, Will, I'l shoot!” Turning, Will saw the girl in the door, her eyes round above the le- velled deadliness of a forty-five. Her voice held the quaver of excitement, but there was control, too, that held Will there above the fallen man, _ “What did you think you’d find after two years, Will?” she demanded quietly. “Did you expect Jack to build the ranch to twice its former worth and settle all the differences between the ranchers and farmers and then just step aside and hand the whole thing to you on a silver platter? Did you think you could ride back with a gun on your hip and find everybody kow-towing to your mighty lordli- ness? Jack told me how you'd be, Will Bowman, but I didn’t believe him. He said a third of the Bar Bench wouldn’t be enough for you.” “A third?” He echoed the words, not understanding. And then he saw it. She didn’t know. Griffith hadn’t told her. He looked down, seeing as though for the first time that the pa- per was still crumpled in his fist. But there was the sound of hoof- beats slowing in the yard outside and the man on the floor stirred and came awake. Connicloce S.conn