Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

\ BY ORDER OF Hickman will ride in. He’ll have his gang with him and they’ll imbibe real freely. Mebbe “long about that same time Pete Asher’ll ride in with his gang. They'll also imbibe freely, and some of ’em will likely get kinda drunk. The boys are all thirsty, you know. I expect it’ll be kinda wooly around here t’night, Buck.” “Uh-huh.” Buck cut a particularly long shaving, looked at it critically and nodded with satisfaction. “You shore rode in early to explain all this to me,” he said. “If you're all through, you might tell me the rest.” “It’s thisaway,” explained Ben serious- ly. ‘You know what.a feud is, Buck?” **Yea-a-ah.” “Well, that’s what she amounts to right now. And it’s all over a danged irl!” “T’m glad there’s a reason, Ben. Mostly allus them feuds starts over nothin’. Go ahead and tell me the details.” “Rosie Smith.” “Huh?” “That’s what I said. You know how Bud and Pete kinda shined around her a month ago. I don’t guess she knowed which one to pick. Of course, Bud thinks it’s him, and Pete thinks it’s him. And there you are. It’s been kinda achin’ both of ’em, I reckon. Anyway, Chuck Lester makes a remark the other night that he supposed Bud wouldn’t be with us in Mojave Wells at the finish of the roundup, ’cause he’d stop along a picket fence before he reached the main street, and head straight through the gate. “Pete was there, and I reckon it hit him in a sore spot, ’cause he chips in with a remark, which didn’t set well with Bud. There wasn’t much said, but it took all of us to take their guns away. We didn’t want no killin’ in camp. Bud was reason- able. He says to Pete, ‘We'll settle this in Mojave Wells.’ ”” “Pete was agreeable. He says, “That suits me. We'll make a truce until sun- down, both agreein’ to keep away from her. When that sun goes down, all truce is off, and we shoot on sight.’ ” BUCK BRADY 41 stick aside and began whetting the blade on the counter of his left boot. _ “And one of them damn’ fools is goin’ to get killed,” added Ben. “It’s kinda hard to git straight grain stuff these days,” said the sheriff 'serious- ly. ‘I ’member when I was runnin’ a tradin’ post down Yuma way, I used to git the best danged boxwood for whittlin’. I don’t suppose it runs so good these days.” “Ben and Pete are both friends of yours,” said Ben thoughtfully. “Uh-huh. I like ’em both.” “A killin’ might start trouble. Be sliced another shaving, laid the The _ boys has kinda took sides.” “T s’pose.” “Bud and Pete are both good shots.” ““Yea-a-ah—purty good shots. Awful damn’ fools in lotsa ways, but good shots. Uh-hu-u-uh. Well, I’ve got to write me some signs, Ben. It’s two hours till sundown.” “T thought you’d like to know about it, Sheriff.” “Yeah, Ido. Thank you kindly.” ““You’re welcome.” Ben took his horse and headed for a saloon, while more cowboys came racing in, their horses covered with lather and dust. The sheriff watched the first con- tingent arrive. It was Bud Hickman and his gang from the Tumbling K. Bud was a likable looking cowboy, about twenty- five years of age, tall, lithe, swarthy as an Indian, with curling black hair and a white toothed smile. His crew was a wild riding lot of hard bitted punchers, ready for fun or fight at a moment’s notice. They noted that Pete Asher and the J88 boys had not arrived yet; so they all headed for the Desert Well Saloon, the biggest place of its kind in Mojave Wells. The sheriff stood on the edge of the side- walk for a while, cogitating deeply. He had been sheriff of that particular county for nearly two terms, which meant that Buck Brady was pretty much of a man. Finally he went into his little office, and after a search he found an old paint brush comnlicloooks.com