Pulp - Action Stories.38.12.The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley - James P. Olsen (pdf) Read online

  Action Stories, December, 1938

  Action Stories

  2

  Howdy Harris was through! But before he pulled in his mossy-horns for good, the old Hellbender aimed to slap the Injun sign on Whispering Valley’s Boot-hill bunch!

  I

  shook his head.

  Howdy eased one shoulder against the

  YEARS of hell raising were done with, and

  bench and scratched his back. He sighed

  Howdy Harris was heading for the country of

  contentedly.

  a wild and misspent youth. He felt at peace

  “Stop that!” the Court snapped. He

  with the world as he rode Northward, and

  went on:

  reckoned the flight of the dove was easier than

  “When the Reverend Jostlechin and his

  the winging of the owl, or the headache Aid Society beseech you join church or leave producing pound on the trail of the elephant.

  town, you promised you would leave. Are you

  His decision had been made as he proud of the fact you rode your horse into the followed the sheriff of Sandog along the cell-meeting house?”

  block corridor and into the stuffy courtroom

  Howdy screwed his face thoughtfully

  on the second floor.

  and began to remember things. He said,

  His trial lacked certain formality. The

  “Jedge, I just come to tell them good-bye. Ol’

  background was provided by numerous frigid-

  Jostlechin, there, was poundin’ his pulpit an’

  faced ladies, stiff in black taffeta. And a gaunt, tellin’ his folks to foller him, for he was a man pallid man of the cloth, who kept a certain

  of courage as would rid Sandog of the devil

  disdainful distance from the prisoner.

  come amongst them.

  The judge looked down at Howdy. He

  “Hell, Jedge. Wasn’t no use’n him

  saw a little banty rooster with leathery face,

  crawlin’ under his pulpit just ’cause I rode in gray mustache, subdued blue eyes. Once, the

  to say adios.”

  judge reckoned, those eyes had been the light

  The Court leaned to hide his face, and

  called “killer blue.”

  coughed.

  Howdy’s hat, clutched in one paw, was

  “Howdy Harris, it is the Court’s

  battered, and his puncher’s boots were run

  decision: If you will pay for the mirrors you

  over. The too-tight, skimpy levis were bowed

  broke, for the two plate glass windows you

  and bagged at the knees. Howdy seemed rode through, and will leave this town within perpetually crouched and on the verge of the hour, fine and sentence will be taking a long leap.

  suspended.”

  His Honor didn’t ask Howdy. After the

  “An’ how much do you figger is them

  little old-timer had given the Court “Howdy,

  damages?”

  Jedge. Helluva hot day,” he told him, and The Judge named the figure, and

  made it hotter.

  Howdy grinned.

  “You drift into Sandog, start cutting

  “You cut ’er to a gnat’s teat,” he

  cards with a gambler, and end up breaking

  reckoned. The Ladies Aid gasped. “Wouldn’t

  him,” the Court summarized. “It is understood

  be no use finin’ me. Them damages clean me

  he cheated you, and you, in turn, cheated him

  plumb out.”

  more so, and drove him out of town.

  Shortly thereafter, Howdy and the

  “Then, you proceed to get drunk. And

  sheriff and two deputies reined up outside of

  half the male population of Sandog with you.

  town.

  Men who were church-goers until you came

  Howdy tugged a bottle out of his shirt

  along. A man your age! Tch, tch.” His Honor

  front and replaced it with the old Colt .45 the

  The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley 3

  sheriff handed back to him.

  “Hell, she’s like the ol’ days, when the

  “What was it that sky pilot called me?”

  mines opened,” Howdy told himself. His heart

  Howdy pulled the cork. The sheriff took the

  beat faster and a wild eagerness urged him on.

  bottle. “Said you was an incorrigible old He fought down that urge, remembering he sinner. So here’s a drink to whatever that is.”

  was now a paragon of tranquil dignity.

  “If she’s what it sounds like, it’s fine

  The evening brought Howdy to

  I’m goin’ on as a man of peace,” Howdy

  Pinnacle Station, the highest point in the

  assured them.

  Orfree Hills. Howdy had been prepared to see

  “They said it was terrible, a ol’ pioneer

  this old halfway stage and freight station in a like you agoin’ on the peck like that,” a decayed state. Instead, it was in repair, and deputy chuckled.

  there were horses tethered outside. A bawling,

  “Hell, they oughta see me when I get

  leather popping, long-line skinner was pulling

  goin’ good.”

  out, his fresh sixteen-up heaving to the collars.

  They had another drink around, said

  The huge wagon was loaded with mining

  farewells, and Howdy Harris went his way

  machinery.

  alone. He carried himself proudly, and looked

  Howdy dismounted and frowned into

  upon a wicked world with eyes of pity and

  night’s thickening gloom. Down the road, that

  tolerance.

  ran downgrade from here to Whispering

  He aimed for Whispering Valley and

  Valley, and on the other side, a new building

  old friends. They’d find the years had changed

  had been erected. As he looked, a stage pulled

  Howdy Harris, he determined; a dose of in and stopped and while hostlers hooked up prison and smaller and more bitter pills of jail fresh horses, passengers piled out and went

  terms, fights, benders, riotous living had not

  inside to eat.

  made of Howdy a Mary’s Lamb.

  Howdy didn’t know if he should hang

  But now age had made of him a around or sleep out tonight. He turned and pioneer, by damn! He’d sit on his tail up there drifted toward the stables in the rear of

  at Whispering Valley, and show all the quiet

  Pinnacle Station, to see if he could get

  dignity the brand of pioneer implied.

  accommodation for his horse.

  “Comin’ back, Whispering Valley,”

  He was almost to the stable when a

  Howdy said aloud. “Peaceful, like that—that

  bouncing, rattling buckboard drawn by a

  turkey buzzard as packs a mesquite branch in

  matched team coming hellity-tilt slammed off

  his claws.”

  the road and past the station and pulled up

  near the stable.

  II

  Howdy turned. Men with lanterns were

  coming from the station and the barn.

  FROM
the rail-end at Grand Center, it was

  A young man whose face was pleasant

  sixty mountain miles to the town of under a coating of dust, tossed his leathers to a Whispering Valley. As, days later, Howdy hostler and jumped down.

  Harris took that road, he knew that something

  The man on the seat beside him stood,

  had happened; but not what.

  a rifle in the crook of his arm. A tall, thin-

  He passed two high, heavy freight lipped man, whose fancy calfskin jacket, tight wagons, loaded to the sky. A stagecoach California pants, and ornate cartridge belt and rocked and jingled toward Grand Center, silver chased pistol, contrasted highly with the leaving a trail of white dust to settle over

  blue denims the young driver wore.

  cedar and shinnery.

  “Why’n hell ain’t the other team

  Action Stories

  4

  ready?” the guard roared. “Bigod, you know

  lanterns’ yellow rays, came a tight, knifing

  we’re carrying a gold bar.” He kicked the

  voice. Howdy’s voice, and it made the blood

  heavy iron, padlocked express box that was

  of more than one hearer run more than a little

  bolted through the floor onto the buck-board’s

  cold.

  frame.

  “The world ain’t big enough for both

  “You’re early,” someone growled. of us any more!”

  “An’ don’t be passin’ us your blab. Bill

  Dineen’s the driver. All you got to do is ride

  III

  an’ be fancy pants.”

  Howdy moved forward into the lantern

  WHITE dust hung heavy over the town of

  light, drawn by thet name of Bill Dineen. He

  Whispering Valley, shot through with burning

  sort of remembered that name. Asia Logan

  sunrays that brought down the choked, dry

  had a nephew by that name. Had taken him in

  scent of cedar. Howdy came slowly down the

  and sent him to school when the boy’s paw,

  long, twisting street, subduing the urge to

  and Asia’s sister, the button’s mother, got

  tickle his bronc with his spurs and make him

  drowned in a cloudburst.

  pitch while he, Howdy, yanked his old cutter

  Now the kid was a man. How in hell

  and blasted at the moon.

  did Time keep it’s furious pace without

  He ached to shrill a rebel yell and

  slowing for wind once in a while?

  scream “Cowboy’s in town!”

  The gun guard, Dude Tern, angered by

  Those actions, though, were for fools

  the stableman’s name of fancy pants, spotted

  and wild younkers. And Howdy was a

  Howdy.

  virtuous man these days. Why, he’d even tried

  “Back, you!” he roared. He held the

  to regret threatening that gun guard. Vain

  rifle at waist level as he pulled the trigger. A effort, that.

  splash of flame ran downward and the bullet

  He held his mount to a sedate walk and

  cracked into the hard earth too close to read the story of Whispering Valley as written Howdy’s feet.

  since he’d left the town.

  Howdy leaped aside, and Tern hit the

  On the hills above the town, stamp

  ground, coming at him. Hand on the gun mills crashed and thundered. There were new beneath his shirt, old Howdy ached to pull that buildings lengthening the street’s long,

  old pistol and let this loud fool have it where crawling course. A few men in cowman’s garb

  he lived. He bridled his flaring temper and

  were on the raised board walks; and many

  stood silent as Tern came to a halt, muzzle of

  men whose dress and walk proclaimed them

  his rifle almost touching Howdy’s chest.

  off the creeks and from the mines.

  “You’re too close to a gold shipment,

  Howdy passed the Trompoose Bar. His

  you old rat!” Tern snarled. “Grubliners and

  horse turned toward the rail there. Howdy

  saddle tramps ain’t allowed to hang around.

  swallowed, tongued dry lips and urged the

  Get going, you whiskered packrat. Vamose!”

  animal on.

  Howdy opened his mouth, closed it

  “Want folks to think I got you trained

  quickly. If he had words with this blabbering

  so’s you smell likker an’ natchally stall in

  dogie, he knew his temper wouldn’t stand.

  before the first saloon we meet?” he growled.

  He turned. Dude Tern swung a

  He drew rein farther down, before a

  polished boot and sent Howdy staggering large, false-fronted building. As he got down, forward....

  his horse turned its head and eyed him in a

  Then—from the dark outside the way that Howdy swore was reproachful and

  The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley 5

  surprised. It lifted its tail and pawed the dust.

  who’d ridden and helled together in their

  “An’ the same to you,” Howdy youth, until Asia Logan went into business, grunted, making a threatening pass with his

  and Howdy—because of his own

  old hat.

  hellishness—went to the pen.

  He put his hands on his hips and

  They surveyed each other, each

  looked up and the sign painted across the

  thinking of the other: “Hell, he’s gettin’ old!”

  building’s false front. “Logan.

  General

  And then they saw back through the layers of

  Supplies. Freight Office,” he read laboriously, age Life had so lavishly spread on them. They

  spelling out each word under his breath.

  grinned.

  He turned, then, and looked across the

  Low, trying so damned hard to appear

  street. A building twice the size of Asia casual, they gave their greetings.

  Logan’s reared in opposition over there.

  “Varmints that cross a man’s trail

  It bore the painted information: Crake-

  when the season’s closed!” Asia Logan said.

  Norvell ... Merchandise & Machinery ... Stage

  “Howdy, you soft, take-’er-easy town

  Station.

  boy,” Howdy answered.

  Shaking his head, Howdy turned,

  He licked dry lips again. Logan

  climbed steps from street to boardwalk, went

  pointed to a cupboard. “I got a busted leg.

  under wooden awning with its rolled-up Rolling down a mountain with a freight wagon canvas that was let down to balk the hot sun of riding me. There’s a bottle there, and you

  afternoons, and entered Logan’s place.

  don’t care if you do. I can stand a snort

  The interior was larger than in the past.

  myself.”

  Twice as much merchandise of all

  Howdy got the bottle. He turned and

  descriptions was displayed. The counter, with

  sneered at Logan, and indicted him for

  the window and panel of postoffice boxes was

  softness by pointing to thin, small whiskey

  gone. The corner the postoffice once had glasses on the shelf.

  occupied had been boxed in to make a cubby-

  “Never mind them. What the hell you

  hole office.

  think them tin cups is for?” Logan barked.

  Howdy grinned broadly, mopped his

  “Glasses is for special, soft customers.”

  hand
s on his baggy britches, then settled his

  They filled their cups half to the brim,

  face woodenly. He ignored the yap of a clerk

  drank, settled back.

  who came toward him, telling him he couldn’t

  “So you heard things was wild, and

  go in Mr. Logan’s private office. He went in

  you come raring back.” Logan shook his head.

  and closed the door and stood with his back to

  “Howdy, you and me is too old, I guess. There

  it.

  ain’t nothing you can do.”

  The gray-haired, heavy man at a

  “Ain’t aimin’ to do nothin’,” Howdy

  kitchen table that served as a desk, didn’t

  assured him. “I come back here to settle down

  seem to notice him at first. He stared into

  an’ live peaceable. I’m aimin’ to be a—a sorta

  space, lost in worried thought. Crutches lay on pioneer.”

  the floor beside his chair, and Howdy noticed

  “Then,” Logan stated decisively, “I

  Asia Logan’s left leg was in a cast.

  know the days of miracles ain’t done.”

  “You always was breakin’ somethin’,”

  Howdy snapped.

  IV

  Asia Logan turned. His eyes widened,

  his mouth gaped.

  ASIA LOGAN toyed with his cup. “So you

  They eyed each other ... this pair see,” he said, “after you left, business fell off.

  Action Stories