Action-Packed Western, May 1957 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

80 ACTION-PACKED WESTERN We'll set the record up as killin’ over water rights; same as I done on Jeb’s body. Then we'll get back to worryin’ about the Martin boys.” “It’s a funny thing,” the deputy opined slowly, “why the old man sent his boys into Mexico with them cows, then tried blastin’ out the dam. If it’d been me, I’d of got all the help that was around.” “TI suppose it was ’cause Jeb didn’t want a water war. Remember, he’d tamed Herb down the last couple of years, and he didn’t want the young one to run wild like his brother done. Give a man a taste of fightin’ and kill- in’ excitement, and it’s hell to shake it. Let’s cut this gabbin’ and get Minor to Wardville.”’ HE STREET was hot. A few cottonwoods, brittle as dried pulp, leaned over the back of several double fronted buildings. The shutters were half drawn in the saloon and sweat dried horses switched at the flies tor- menting them, The officers and their burden entered town from the west. The sheriff’s eyes were squinted toward a lone rider entering the long street from the east. It was Herb Martin and the sheriff drew rein. “See you got another of Pa’s killers to bury.” Herb spat the words out. A few men just emerging from the saloon glared at him. “Yep, and we got us a killer to catch!” snapped the Sheriff. “Figure maybe it’s you or your brother.” “You’re just blowin’ up a dust storm, Sheriff. I been cleared of that graveyard killin’ by a coroner’s jury. Everybody seen Thatcher draw his gun; they seen him point it and they seen him pull the trigger.” “I don’t mean Thatcher, Minor,” “Is every man dyin’ in this country gonna be pinned onto me or Ray?” The tone was caustic. “Next, you'll be sayin’ we killed Pal” I mean Bitterly, the Sheriff clucked to his horse. His deputy followed and the group of men who had gathered to lis- ten, stared down the street after him. Each man avoided Herb Martin’s rak- ing, cold eyes. “Stanley!” Herb picked out a tall rancher who was moving back toward the saloon. “You gettin’ all the water you need?” “Don’t get tough with me, Martin,” answered Stanley. “Water rights al- ways go to them highest up on the river. We can pull it down to dry dust if we want! We got cattle to protect; same’s the ones ranchin’ down far- ther.” The tall man’s face was red with anger. “You're sure a gutless man, Stan- ley, when you’re alone!” Herb Martin said bluntly. “T ain’t pullin’ no gun on a mounted ” Stanley watched the others step away from him and he tensed, ready to go for his gun. “Then just you wait, Ill unload from this horse.” Herb threw a leg over the pommel, keeping his eyes fixed on Stanley. He lit on his toes just as Stanley drew. The gun came out and exploded all in a single move- ment. The muzzle jumped even as Stanley realized he had pulled the [Turn To Page 82] Gomichbooks (ECO)