2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

f 94 he was in on it. Maybe they’d be satisfied and not come back again, or maybe he could throw a monkey wrench in their machinery on the way to Tornillo, or while they were there; .° “Okay,” said Jim Deever tiredly. ott Set a HOtse Tornillo’s street was deserted. Be- tween Serle and Simms, Jim Deever rode up its sun-baked length. It was hot and the blazing sun made heat waves dance up from the dust and off the false-fronted buildings. Two slack-hipped ponies switched lazy tails at flies as they stood at a hitch- rail. Jim Deever felt a queer cold desperation come to him as he real- ized that there was nothing he could do to keep Simms and Serle from rob- bing the bank. They had ridden all night to reach Tornillo, and he’d tried all night to think of something to do. But there was nothing. If he made a break he’d die and if he didn’t die the law would know he’d been the Brazos Kid. f Baas STOPPED in front of the bank. Jake Serle got off his horse. “Come on,” he said low-voiced to Jim Deever, “and be damn careful how you act. I’m gonna watch you like a hawk. I’ve got a hunch you'd be a damn fool enough to try to queer this deal if you had a chance.” Jim Deever climbed down off his horse. He knew he’d try to queer the deal if he had a chance. But he didn’t have a chance. He followed Serle into the bank. The bank was empty except for the cashier. Jake Serle pointed a gun at him. “Shell out!” he said curtly. “Sack up your money and make it fast!” The cashier, a thin, pale-faced man, grew even paler as he started shov- ing bundles of money into a canvas sack. He filled one and Jake Serle waved his gun. “Get it,” he said to Jim Deever. Jim Deever reached through the grille and took the money sack. “There’s more,’ said Jake Serle to the cashier. “Give us all of it.” The cashier filled two more sacks and Jim Deever gathered them up in his hands. “You see now why we need you,’ 2-GUN WESTERN Jake Serle said to Deever. “Get the hell out of here! Quick!” Jim Deever started toward the door, Out in front of the bank Pinto Simms yelled. A gun crashed up the street as Deever and Jake Serle ran down the steps. A tall, lean, black- hatted man came running down the street, a gun in his hand. He shot and the bullet whistled past Deever’s head. Jim Deever stared at him as he’d stare at a ghost. It was Guy Rank! He was older, but Jim Deever would have known him anywhere. He was young Brad’s father and Jim Deever, who never had been to this distant town of Tornillo, had thought him dead! He had heard, nearly twenty years ago, that he’d been killed! A lot of guns began to crackle and snarl and roar as Deever and Serle hit their saddles, galloped away. “Ride fast,’ yelled Jake Serle to Jim Deever. “If you slow up I'll kill you!” Jim Deever rode like mad. He was in a frenzy of dread. He was as anx- ious to get away as Jake Serle was. The rattle of guns and shrill yells behind him beat against his ears; but the mystery of Guy Rank, still alive, beat against his brain. Like a grim spectre out of the past, he was back there, blazing guns in his hands. A horrible, clutching fear that Guy Rank would catch him, expose him now to young Brad, clutched old Jim Deever, and he rode as he had never ridden before. The wind plastered his shirt to his body as he thundered along. His hat was blown from his head. Crazily, afound and round in his brain, went the thought that he couldn’t bear to give up the boy to Guy Rank now. He’d had him too long. He loved him too much. He’d watched him grow up from a baby to be a man. He’d been ready to give him to Guy Rank once, but not now! Gradually, Jim Deever knew that no posse as yet had been organized to take their trail. Only the pound of their own horses’ hoofs was in his ears. But he didn’t let his horse fal- ter. He drove it on mercilessly, cruelly. And night came again, and they pushed on. Jim Deever knew they’d have to hurry, knew that Gu P28 comichooksreou