2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

BLOOD ON THE MOON 9 Drunk, Jud thought, blind savage drunk on Cugat’s whiskey... He wheeled with the shotgun as four ef the Indians charged him. Jud fired and saw one Indian hurled from the saddle, and as the second barrel blasted, another hung loosely to his pony as it wheeled away for the timber. “Here, Jud!’ Liz Holder cried, and he turned to take the second gun she handed him. As he lifted it, he saw the remain- ing two Indians racing for the tim- ber, bodies flat on their ponies. Jud fired one barrel, and saw the pony lunge, and the Indian on it fly off to tumble loosely in the cotton. “Guess them scoundrels. won’t be back for a spell!” Liz Holder panted behind him. “They jumped out at me a half mile back, nearly scared the liver out of me! Guess they was sneaking up to see if they was any scalps left! What happened to your barn, Jud?” He told her hurriedly as he reload- ed the shotgun, and she moved about doing the things she thought needed doing for Lettie. She made sharp, an- gry sounds at mention of Cugat, and when Jud was done, she said, “You take the gun, Jud, and keep watch, I'll tend Lettie. You keep your mind on watch, and don’t pay no mind to Lettie’s hollering. It’s natural. Hear me?” jed spent the next hour prowling the cotton patch, the timber and branch beyond his burned barn. In the light of the big moon, he could plainly see the cabin, and hear Let- tie’s occasional pained cry, Her cries ran through Jud in nerve-shattering shocks and he sweated and trembled and cursed by turns. He cursed the Indians, Cugat, and his own stupid- ity in not taking Lettie to town a week ago, all with equal intensity. He tried to think about the Indi- ans, weighing the questions of wheth- er they’d risk coming back for their dead, and the possibility of their run- ning into another party and all of them coming back for scalps and revenge. Then there was Cugat and Busch to think of, but Jud barely could bring them to mind for fran- tic worry over Lettie. Aas HALF hour went by before Lettie’s cries came harder and more frequent and then finally there was a long agonizing silence be- fore Mrs. Holder called to him. Jud went lunging blindly across the cotton patch to burst into the cabin sweating and trembling, his wild eyes grabbed at Lettie in bed. “Is she dead?” he yelled. “I’m a blame fool! Lord A’mighty—” A lusty squall cut him off, mouth open and in the wavering light of the candles, he saw the bundle Lettie held to her. Jud sank weakly down beside the bed. “You'd think, Lettie,” Liz Holder said disgustedly, “that fool men would learn after awhile. But it always near scares them to death when they become a papa! In a week, the way he'll be strutting and bragging, you'll doubt if you had anything to do with it, You’ll think he done it all himself!” It took Lettie a few moments to convince Jud that she was all right and that he was the papa of a fine boy. Mrs. Holden said finally, “Jud, get your big hulk outside now. Them In- dians might come back for their dead and they sure won’t be above skin- ning us alive if they get a chance. Then that renegade, if he followed you, sure heard the Indians gobbling and the firing, and he’ll never get a better chance to murder us all and blame it on the Indians!” Jud left the cabin again, with more caution this time. His mind focused on the situation more clearly now, with his relief over Lettie. If those renegades or the Indians had come in the last two hours, they would have had him half skinned before he knew it. Jud was almost to the timber through the cotton patch when he heard the sound. Instantly he dropped down in the tall cotton stalk, and his experience evaluated the sound and told him it was the restless stamp of a horse’s hoof, barely audible from the distance. _. *e waited, the rioters con