Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

-“ They’ re Davis agents, Peter. That’s my - guess.’ The girl folded her arms across her breast and eyed Sam balefully. “You'd think that folks’d realize the war is over, and that they’d stop all this shooting and robbing—intelligent folks, that is,” 3 Sam winked at her, but before she could - say anything her mother called her into the ~ .-. we'll have to let them go. But mind you— don’t get caught skulking!” wagon. Her father, Peter Meservey, tugged at his side-whiskers and cleared his throat again. ; “We have no evidence against them, The man with the Spencer cocked it, and Trask made a move for his own gun. But Sam pushed him toward their horses. “Odds’re too high. Let’s pull foot,’ They trotted off into the deepening dusk, pointing toward town. for a mile, then began to soften. “Tt does seem kinda crazy, keepin’ the war goin’ on an’ on, with all this country to build up.” “Veh,” Sam Quinby agreed, “it sure does.” They rode int guilty silence for an- other mile, when Sam asked, “You were with Jeb Stuart?” “Until Richmond. I got hit with a Minie ball at Yellow Tavern, the mornin’ Jeb was killed, an’ I never did go back—war does strange things to folks, don’t it?” “Veh.” Another mile, and the stars were low and bright and brittle. “Like makin’ ’em support a new one— Sounds crazy.” Sam swallowed uneasily. That girl back. there had had an uncommon effect on him. * _ “Crazy for sure, tryin’ to continue fight- in’.”” Trask was obviously impressed with this rich land, with its warm fallowness and fertile promise. When the lights of Arapahoe were in the distance, he asked, “You aimin’ to meet that girl in town?” ‘Sam was shocked. “T’m aimin’ for a steak an’ onions! I’ve s—.* ~— — SS LAW OF HELLFIRE RANGE ~ Trask stayed mad 65 been on Army rations for so long that I can’t remember what good food tastes like.” “Where, suh,” Trask inquired, “did you : say you served ?” “With the 18th Mississippi— Come on, let’s get that steak.”’ pur THEY didn’t get it. All they got in Arapahoe was a grim-lipped greet- ing from men with hostile eyes—men who’ had just packed the charred bodies of the Marietta wagon train drivers into town. © The tarpaulin burial sacks were on the plankwalk in front of the stage station. Quarles carried’ a lamp from the saloon _and held it high over the heads of Sam ° Quinby and Trask. “Broken Key riders, returning to check up on the results, eh?” Without turning he called, “Pike! Grease up a rope and choose a tree! barroom.” The man called Pike spun out a riata and shook it a few times, then coiled it in; others crowded the two accused men from the rear and hazed them into the saloon. Trask had a chance to murmur, “Med’ry, maybe we should've ambushed Drings, after all.” . “Maybe we still can.” Sam leaned back- ward against the bar, elbows on the wood, legs crossed. The ring of faces confront- ing him in the smoky lamplight was like a silent jury from hell. The man Pike was seated in a corner, greasing his riata. - Quarles thrust his way through the crowd and opened the indictment with a few short words as to how Trask had been suspect since he’d begun riding for the | Broken Key the week before, and how he’d. contrived to meet Medary, here, on the very day of the Marietta raid, those two taking care to be seen in town at the time of the raid. “But,” Quarles added, “‘they ploned it for Drings.”’ Sam held up a finger, schoolboy-fashion “Can the accused speak?” =~ Gomichbooks We'll hold court in the con