Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

tes ne Patten niet ed _. ‘THE PREACHER TAKES A GUN He stretched again, and a long, quiet | sigh escaped him. He brought one hand up to rub the thick crop of gray hair. His lean body stood rigid against the coldness of the morning. Under the neat vest his stomach was still flat, but it was going soft, he | guessed. He recognized it with some re- gret, yet it was to be expected. A-man’s body became slower, and perhaps, 1f he was lucky, his mind made up for it. He smiled, considered another cup of coffee, and started to go back into the house. The smile faded and drew into a frown when he saw the boy lead the stallion around the corner of the building. He let the screen door go and moved to the head of the steps. He took the watch out again, letting the boy see it, and said, “Pretty early to be going into town, isn’t it, son?” The boy didn’t answer. He turned his back and began working at the front latigo _ of the big stallion’s saddle. Hardeman took out his pipe and began packing it, his eyes moving frequently to the kid. The youth had his tallness. r and when he was finished with the cinch he swung into the saddle with an uncom- mon gracefulness. He was riding his Sun- day horse, but his clothes were dusty and his face dark with a neglected beard. The gun holster hung low on his hip, and he pushed it back a little to keep it from bounc- ing. He looked at Hardeman with a thin smile creasing his even features. Hardeman felt the irritation rise in him and he forced it back. He said quietly, “Don’t seem likely that the saloon will be open this early.” The kid made a little laugh and brought the stallion’s head up. “If you had your way, it wouldn’t be open at all.” “Well,” Jeff said agreeably, ‘“‘when I was drinkin’ I guess I didn’t care what day it was.” 4 The ‘kid laughed louder. “You didn’t tell me you took’a drink once, pa.” The old man frowned and ran a match ' the wagon road. For awhile he stood mo- | He was _ sparse-framed,, ‘remember, but there was no help for it. oa *,. M on along the railing of the porch, lighting the pipe. The kid lifted the reins and started — to leave the yard. Hardeman watched him _ for a moment over the puffing clouds ‘of smoke. : : “Ben,” he called softly. The kid reined | up and showed his irritation. ‘Listen, Ben,’ Hardeman said. “‘You stay away . from that Bal Kincaid.” The kid shook his head disgustedly. ‘Al- ways preaching,” he said. “It don’t matter if it’s Sunday, or any other day.” He heeled the stallion and pointed him toward the ford of the creek. “You hear ?’’ Hardeman yelled after him. “So Jong, Preacher,” the kid shouted back, and swung the horse out of sight be- : yond the river willows. | Jeff listened to the stallion running on — tionless, worry pulling at the leather fea- ~ — tures of his face. Finally he turned and went through the door and let it close qui- etly behind him. In the kitchen his wife was working over the sink. He sat down at the table and stared absently at her back. “Martha,” he said suddenly, “I don’t know what I’m going to do about that boy of ours.” She turned to regard him closely. “More coffee, Jeff?” she asked. He nodded. “It seems like he’s getting worse every day. And that Kincaid fellow. He’ll get him into trouble. Bad trouble.” The woman brought a cup and ‘ poured the steaming black liquid. “Tt worries me,” she said. She frowned down at him, but her tone ‘was kindly. “Sometimes he reminds me of how you used to be, Jeff.” Hardeman brought the cup to his lips and put it down again. He didn’t like to A man couldn't completely forget his past. He was grateful to the woman that she spoke of it so seldom. Thinking about it now, he could see the truth of her words, — COMMICELOOO KS xO) <n o = oes ~~ ws 5 a es wm)