“Crake never had nothin’ to do with
the doors, half fell through them and took
’er,” Loffe said, his quavery voice
himself away.
unconvincing.
Alone in the dark, he stopped his
“You’re a liar. You was Crake an’
staggering.
Norvell’s man when you was stable foreman
The shrewd, wicked grin was on his
here, huddem your soul!”
old face. The light in his blue eyes was a
“Norvell never had nothin’—I mean—
hopeful, deadly one.
”
“So-o-o,” Howdy rumbled. He had
IX
another little drink.
“You take Scad Waters, now. He had
STEADY snores filled the little cubby in the
somethin’ on Crake. His past, likely. So him
corner of the Logan stable. Whiskey smells
an’ Tern an’ Crake framed ’er that Waters was
choked the place.
to be let rob a gold shipment. Only Waters got
A footstep sounded as boot-sole crossed an’ killed, an’ it got Tern made the scuffed the splintered runway, and a man’s
law.
dark figure stopped beside the half-opened
“They had you whupped by Waters
door into the room.
because you lost your job here. Now they’ve
Eyes accustomed to the deep darkness,
sent you to get me. An’, judgin’ by the
the man moved on in, easing toward the figure
matches stuck in your hatband, you aimed to
on the cot. The snores continued.
fire the place. Folks would say a drunk ol’
The man raised a heavy axle-nut fool set the fire by accident an’ got burnt up.”
wrench and the breath came grunting past his
Loffe remained sullenly silent.
lips as he brought it down. The grunt became
“Thing is, Loffe, you reckon you’d
a squawk. From under the cot, a pair of hands
lived long after? Hell! Tern’d find excuse to
came out to seize his ankles and jerk him
kill you so quick! I don’t doubt he’s layin’
down. Light flashed a blinding ray across his
outside right now, waitin’ for you to show.”
brain as a flailing gunbarrel caught his skull.
Loffe choked. “Hell,” he wailed,
He was sitting on the cot, his wrists
“what’m I goin’ to do? I know they rigged
swelling from the ties that held his hands
Waters. I wasn’t supposed to, but Scad talked.
behind him when his head stopped roaring and
Fact is, him an’ me was aimin’ to tail with the he could see again.
gold he thought he’d get, an’ let Crake hold
Howdy had closed the door and lit a
the sack.”
lantern. He sat on a box regarding his prisoner
“Uh-huh. An’ you want to know what
stonily. Gus Loffe, that prisoner, felt the you’re goin’ to do? You’re goin’ to walk out emptiness of stark fear tearing his belly out.
of here, an’ let Tern have a shot at you. Unless
“Snores from under a cot sound almost
you crave to talk. How’d you shoot Norvell?”
like them made on top of one,” Howdy said
“I never!” Loffe cried, truth in his
flatly. “An’ rolled grain sacks under a blanket voice.
shape up for a feller’s figger pretty well.”
“An’ it couldn’t been Tern, because
He reached his bottle and took a drink.
he’s accounted for in my book. That leaves—
“I left the Trompoose like I was drunk
Crake! Now, why’d Crake kill Norvell?”
an’ aimed for gettin’ drunker. I’d started folks
“I don’t know, unless it’s because
to thinkin’ about Crake, too. So I wasn’t safe
Norvell is honest an’ don’t want to control this to have around no more. Well!”
country by controllin’ all shippin’.”
The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley 15
“So they build ’er up a feud between
He’d go on a high peck and clean things up
Norvell an’ Bill Dineen. Norvell is shot, for them.
Bill—the man Nan loves—is in jail, an’ Asia
His blue eyes were pale with a wild
Logan goes broke tryin’ to help Bill out. light, his cheeks pinched, his lips pulled in a Crake holds things in his palm, an’ Tern, a
macabre grin as he paced on, turned, and
law, is his man.
walked into the Trompoose bar.
“Well, Loffe, get up. An’ take your
Mason Crake stood nearest him. On
walk.”
down the bar, Dude Tern stood with a filled
Loffe cowered back. “No!” he whiskey glass in hand. The pair were squeaked. “Listen. I’ll go on the stand. I’ll
watching the door, nerves tensed.
testify that Crake done time with Waters. An’
Howdy’s appearance froze them in
that Dude Tern is wanted for a killin’ in their tracks.
Wyomin’. I’ll do anything. Don’t make me
walk out there. Damn them, they would have
X
shot me, like they done poor Scad. I...”
“Save ’er for the court,” Howdy A MAN’S laugh stopped on a high note.
growled. He shoved Loffe back on the cot,
Another stopped talking, with his mouth open.
bound his ankles, roped him down tight, blew
Dozens of pairs of eyes blinked and widened
out the lantern and closed the door behind him
as Howdy moved on in, staying wide of the
when he left?
bar, and gained a point halfway between
Crake and Dude Tern.
HE used small caution in leaving. Tern, They formed the three points of a silent, tense Howdy knew damned well, would be in some
triangle. A figure men could not understand.
public place; Crake, too, for that matter.
Old Howdy, withered, small, looking
They’d want no one to harbor a thought Crake
like he was crouched and ready to leap—what
had set the fire. Tern likely would stick around could he be thinking of? What did he have on
near Crake to make the alibi iron bound.
his mind?
Right now—and Howdy grinned evilly
That was soon learned.
as he walked up the street—they were likely
“Loffe sorta failed to bust my skull in
waiting, straining and eager, for the alarm. For an’ set the Logan stable on fire,” Howdy said
the roar of flames that would wipe Logan’s
thinly, the movement of his lips not erasing
stable and stock and equipment and Howdy
his hellish grin.
Harris out.
“Wh-what’re you talking about?” Tern
Trust Tern to figure a killing for Loffe
rasped. “You’re drunk, you old fool.”
to shut his mouth; but a killing that would
“Loffe’ll tell you different. He’ll tell
react to Dude Tern’s benefit.
the court a lot different, too. How it was
Howdy stopped, pulled the old six-
framed to kill Scad Waters, I can swear to
pistol from under his shirt, lifted the hammer a that. I saw you jawin’ with him before the
little and spun the cylinder. He stuck the gun
holdup.
/>
back under his waistband outside his shirt.
“You want to jug me? Can’t stop me
Bigod, he aimed to show folks in from tellin’ that yo’re wanted for killin’s in Whispering Valley a thing or two; aimed to
Wyomin’. Won’t stop me from sayin’ ’Crake
give them a lesson in action they would not
done time with Waters. Hell, a fine bunch you
forget. Pioneer stuff? Hell, and a mighty yes!
are! With Crake shootin’ his own partner to
He’d show them how old-timers performed.
gain control ...”
Action Stories
16
“Lies!” Crake screamed in a fear-
Howdy helped old Wayne when he
ridden voice. He pawed for the gun in the
arrived. They got Loffe into jail, Crake to a
shoulder holster beneath his coat.
doctor, under guard, and toted Tern away.
Dude Tern squalled, “Don’t you draw
Asia Logan came crutching into the saloon,
on Crake!” and his hand slapped pistol butt
after things had quieted a little bit.
and leather as he threw his draw.
“The drinks,” Logan said, “are on me,
Howdy Harris was coming at Tern, his
with the compliments of a old hellion named
bootsoles not leaving the floor when his first
Howdy Harris.”
shot caught Tern under the right breast. Tern’s That was all. Logan never tried to
shot drove a splintery hole in the floor as he
thank Howdy any other way. Action, trouble,
was driven backward against the bar.
likker—these were the thanks Howdy Harris
Howdy did a little crowhop and the
best understood.
first shot from Crake’s weapon seemed to
scorch his shoulder blades. Howdy fired A WEEK later, unshaven, eyes bloodshot, deliberately. Crake dropped, his left leg Howdy stood in Logan’s office and raised a broken under him.
tin cup with him.
Cool, almost seeming to be enjoying
“Let’s see,” Logan growled, looking at
this, Howdy swung back. Dude Tern had a paper on his table. “You shot out two bar recovered his gun. He was on his knees, his
mirrors, broke the window in the barber shop,
strained face beaded with glistening globules
and burnt up a bed and carpet in the hotel. Not of icy sweat as he lined down on Howdy
bad. Only—a lot of womenfolks are
again.
complaining because you got their men drunk,
Again Howdy’s old Colt slammed and kept them that way along with you all sound against the quivering walls. Something
week.”
smeared the bar back of Dude Tern’s head and
“The wimmen,” Howdy orated, “don’t
he twisted down in a gruesome huddle, a blue
know the ways of a pioneer. Still, mebbe
hole over his left eye.
they’re right. After this, I’ll be a man of
Still moving deliberately, not wasting
peace.”
a single motion, Howdy showed Crake his full
“You’re talking through a hangover,”
attention now. Again men winced as the roar
Logan snorted. Then he grinned. “Maybe we
of Howdy’s six-gun pounded their ringing can give you a job that’ll have some action eardrums.
that’ll let you bust loose once in a while.
Crake screamed terribly as his right
“You see, Norvell—no, of course you
arm flopped at his side.
wouldn’t know!—is going to get well. Him
No man moved. They watched Howdy,
and me is going to throw the stage and freight
who squatted on his haunches a few feet from
business together. A good idea anyhow,
Crake. He leveled his gun and thumbed back
seeing that Bill and Nan are getting hitched,
the hammer as he calmly allowed, “this last
and Crake going to the penitentiary.
one’ll be for Sam Norvell!”
“You can be a sort of manager, and
“Don’t!” Crake shrieked.
can sit on your tail for the folks to point out to
“Somebody—help. I shot Norvell. Get the their kids as a mean old devil who was famous sheriff. Let him arrest me. Help!” He cowered,
in the old days when.”
covering his face with his left arm as he
“Yuh-huh.” Absently. “Huddem, we’ll
leaned against the face of the bar, left leg out throw a lot of loops on this thing called fun
at an odd angle, right arm dangling limp.
when Nan an’ Bill get spliced.” Howdy licked
The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley 17
his lips. Then he began pulling off his faded
nakid feller with the bow an’ arrers, I’m
shirt and pawing at his shoulders.
afeerd mebbe I’m sproutin’ wings.
“What
the
hell’s
biting you?” Asia
“An’, hell, Asia, you know doggone
Logan demanded.
well wings wouldn’t look no good on a real
“Well, since I played the part of this
ol’ pioneer!”
Pulp - Action Stories.38.12.The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley - James P. Olsen (pdf) Page 4
