Action-Packed Western, May 1957 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

LOST RANGE Gennie, all right. She was tied to a bunk. His fingers worked rapidly at the cords, unknotting the twisted ends. She had been half suffocated with the rag that had been bound across her mouth. Helping her to her feet, Lavery felt sick inside. He circled his arm around her, and helped her out into the light. Her hair fell wildly about her face. There were scratches across her cheeks. One sleeve of her shirt had been almost torn away. She looked at him with clouded eyes. “T tried to get away...” she said heav- ily. She was so weak she couldn’t stand alone. Together they moved toward the door. But the abrupt clatter of hoofs just outside drove the breath suddenly out of Lavery. He pulled her back and away, up against the wall, and he edged a little way off so that his gun arm was Clear. He heard the hoofs skidding to a halt and then boots thudding on the ground as they approached the cabin. He curled the fingers of his right hand, wanting to see if they would work. There was no sensation in them. So he kept the gun in his left. He could see his knuckles, white and smeared a little with dry blood. He felt every tendon in him drawing tight as he waited there. Time receded into a measureless void. Each footfall strung out over eons. His brain had become too sharp, so that each flicker of the lamp, each small sound like the soft movement of Gennie’s breathing, assumed an enor- mous importance. UST OUTSIDE the door, the foot- steps halted. A heavy voice said with irritation: “Find out what the devil’s up. You could hear this racket as far as Dawling.” That was Hyson’s voice, Lavery thought. No telling how many men were with him. But if he came alone, or with ten, it didn’t matter. There’d be six cartridges in his gun. He’d use them as best he could. His job was to 69 get Gennie away. He’d figure things as he went along. A horse took off into the night, Then Hyson stepped inside. He was alone. Lavery took a step forward. He said in a low voice: ‘‘Reach, Hyson,” Hyson swung around, jaw going slack. Lavery held his gun leveled at Hyson’s middle. He said: “Gennie, you got to make it yourself, now. I’ll come as soon as I can.” He had to keep his eye on Hyson. He heard Gennie begin to move. He heard Hyson’s heavy breathing. And then behind him a body falling. “Gennie.”’ | He felt the anguish rise out of him. “Jim I wish. .” He must have momentarily looked away from Hyson in his concern. Be- cause now Hyson was going for his gun. Lavery triggered. He felt the recoil run up his arm, and then Hyson jumped toward him. Lavery thumbed back the hammer and fired again. The slug went through Hyson’s throat. He went over sideways, spurting blood. Lavery rocked back on his heels, feeling sick. Outside he heard faintly the dry sharp hacking of guns, the cries of men, the thunder of hoofs as when beef cows stampede. It meant nothing to him. He swung around, bent over and lifted Gennie up. Her body was heavy in his arms. Her eyelids were closed, her breast moving gently, as if she were asleep. He carried her out into the night, finding in himself the strength he needed. Hyson’s horse was there, ready saddled, waiting as if planned. But he could have done noth- ing unless Rondo had appeared out of the night and helped him. “She'll be all right,” Lavery said. “Dll git her home.” Rondo sighed. The gunfire seemed to be dying down. Lavery, in the sad- dle now with Gennie in front of him, held safely with his left arm, looked down at Rondo. He felt suddenly very weak and tired. And confused. He asked, “Rondo, what’s this all about?” GEomichoo 5 (€(0) ny To AM mM = i ~< —