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

  6

  The big mines closed, and only a few creeks

  “Yeah. But that ain’t all, Howdy. We

  was being worked. But I’d sold my cow haul gold from the mines to Grand Center.

  business to old ‘Bitter’ Root. Bill Dineen Dude Tern—well, we lost one bar and almost worked for him until I needed Bill.

  another. This Tern showed up and said he’d

  “Still, we managed. Then they got see the gold got through, or no pay. We ain’t modern ways to fix up ore, and another strike

  lost one run since he’s been on—almost two

  was made on Slip Creek. Things opened. I put

  months.”

  on new freight outfits, and put the old

  Howdy didn’t speak his mind about

  Concord coach on the run again. It was held

  Tern. Logan said: “There is talk about having

  up a couple times. I had to stand the losses, of Tern made Chief Deputy to old Sheriff

  course.

  Wayne. Tern maybe could stop our trouble

  “Then this Mason Crake and Sam entire, that way. But Crake-Norvell would Norvell come in. Crake had a line in Arizona,

  oppose him, I reckon. The job would mean

  or someplace, and was losing out. Norvell

  Tern would be sheriff, come next election

  backed him, they moved the line, and time.”

  Norvell—a straight-laced, sort of religious

  There was a knock on the door. A

  cuss—on the surface, anythow—built the teamster grouched in. “That damn stable store over there. He leaves the stage business

  foreman’s drunk again, an’ nothin’ ready!”

  to Crake, mostly.”

  Logan swore. Then he frowned.

  “Sure,

  but—”

  “He ain’t so young, Howdy, and—

  “Wait,” Logan interrupted Howdy. “I

  Well, it’s an easy job.”

  was glad to see them start a stage-passenger

  Howdy Harris, who had, after hearing

  run, even when it meant I lost the postoffice.

  Logan’s story, been ready to forget the ways

  Freighting’s my business, anyhow. Norvell of peace and turn loose his wolf, was on the told me they wasn’t interested in freight.

  verge of giving Logan hell for offering him a

  “Then they started freighting in their

  grandpa job. The urge to go out and peddle

  own stuff. I yapped, and Norvell said they was

  lead pills from his gun was strong in him.

  in their rights. They put on two outfits, and

  Yet, surprisingly, he said: “Sure, Asia.

  relieve them at their stage stations—like the

  I’d like the job. Maybe I can figger somethin’

  one across from our Pinnacle Station.

  out.”

  “Now, Howdy, they’re moving me

  “Don’t you go figgering like you use

  plumb out. You see, we have accidents. Like a

  to. Folks in this town got to have some peace

  boulder rolling down a mountain and and quiet,” Asia warned.

  smashing up a haul. I made one trip myself,

  Yet he was shaking his head as Howdy

  just to see. We got back all right, and going to left. Yes, Howdy Harris really was getting old.

  unload machinery at a mine, we had to

  At the big stable down the street, with

  roughlock down a hill. The chain broke. the yard in the back filled with broken wagons Killed eight mules, busted wagon and gear,

  and stored runners and the like, Howdy was

  and smashed up several thousand dollars’ moving in. A bleary-eyed hombre sat on a cot worth of machinery the mine needed right

  in a sort of office in one front corner, an

  away. I got this busted leg. We found the

  empty bottle in one hand.

  chain’d been filed almost through!”

  “Git your tail yonderly,” Howdy

  “You can’t prove nothin’,” Howdy greeted him. “You ain’t on the Logan payroll stated. “An’ shippers are goin’ to turn to no more.”

  Crake-Norvell entire, this keeps up. Well!”

  “Hell I ain’t. Bigod, you ol’—”

  The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley 7

  Folks on the street saw that mistaken

  Howdy got up and started after them.

  one roll in the dust; saw old Howdy Harris

  Dude Tern got down. He leaned

  follow him, boot him to his feet, and leap off

  forward, let an oath grind past his lips. “I told his feet following his fist—that landed on the

  you!” he snarled, and started at Howdy.

  other’s chin.

  V

  HE dusted his hands as he walked back inside,

  saying, “That’s for callin’ Howdy Harris a

  “WHOA UP!”

  billy goat.” Thereafter, while the ex-stable

  Dude Tern set his feet so suddenly he

  foreman stood in the street and swore luridly,

  twisted half around. He blinked at the old

  blankets, odd belongings, clothing came hogleg Howdy yanked out of his shirt.

  sailing out to him.

  Tern had light, killer-gray eyes. They

  He gathered up his doofunnies and met Howdy’s hard, old, faded eyes of killer turned away, yelling back, “Sure’s my name’s

  blue, and for a moment fear impressed its taut

  Gus Loffe, I’m going to get hunk at you!”

  brand on Dude Tern’s face.

  Howdy

  merely

  grunted.

  “Don’tcha grab for that gun on your

  He’d heard such threats before.

  hip,” Howdy said too levelly. “I’ll blow you,

  It was mid-afternoon, then. Howdy s’help me—an’ ’joy doin’ ’er. Stand hitched, was settled, had his look at things. In the yard, you rannihan, an’ listen to Howdy Harris

  a blacksmith had been cussin’, fitting a new

  make his oratement. Because you ride the gun

  axle on a freighter layed up for repairs.

  an’ ain’t lost nothin’, makes no bones to me.

  “Don’t see how’n hell,” he complained

  Underneath, you’re a four-flushin’ no damn

  to Howdy, “enough dust gets in to grind these

  good one. Time was when I was no damn

  axles out. We need this wagon, too.”

  good myse’f—but I never fourflushed.

  Howdy made a brief inspection. Back

  “I’m stable foreman here now. Asia

  in the stable, he went into the harness room.

  Logan’s a ol’ friend of mine.”

  He opened pail after pail of axle grease,

  Dude Tern reddened and shifted.

  working the dark, yellow mixture through his

  Passers-by, hearing Howdy give him how,

  fingers.

  were ganging in the front doorway, fully

  He found grit in six of two dozen

  enjoying this picture of the little old man

  buckets. Some sort of steel or emery grit, he

  holding Dude Tern under the gun while he

  rightly guessed. Let a skinner get one of them

  told it to him big.

  and grease his axles, and he’d damn soon find

  In a little while, it would be all over

  his wagon laid up, the axle ground all to hell.

  town.

  Howdy put a half hitch on a mental

  “You leave me be, Fancy Pants, an’

  decision to keep an eye on one Gus Loffe.

  I’ll try to keep from shootin’ you for what you He went in his office-living-bedroom,

  done up at Pinnacle. You put a p
aw on me

  had himself a long pull at a bottle, bit off a

  again, though, I’ll use this cutter to fancy your chew, and sat in the doorway where it was

  belly with buttonholes!”

  shady and a breeze blew through, carrying

  He stuffed the old pistol under his

  horsey odors that pleased his sense of smell.

  waistband and turned, hand outstretched to

  He was a picture of peaceable old age

  Bill Dineen. “I remember you, Howdy!” Bill

  as Bill Dineen came up the street and wheeled

  cried, and pumped the oldster’s hand.

  the lathered team into the stable, wheels and

  Dude Tern glowered, looked thinly at

  hoofs rolling hollowly on the wooden runway.

  Dineen, wheeled and stalked out, the audience

  Action Stories

  8

  in the doorway falling back for him.

  hunker quiet. Good thing he’s old as he is.”)

  “How in hell do you stand him,”

  He ranged on toward the rear, and

  Howdy asked, starting to unhook the team.

  cinched down near a man who stood quite

  “Well, Howdy, a man can do lots of

  alone. He was a stocky, heavy-set customer

  things. Tern wounded one holdup man. No-o-

  with a dark face, a cruel mouth, and sly, deep

  o, it was proved he wasn’t with Crake-

  eyes. His store clothes fitted him well, yet he Norvell. ’Nother thing—Aw, hell, Howdy. seemed uncomfortable in them. Like a man When two fellers are setting up for the same

  who’d grown up without dude skins, and

  girl, it looks damn little of one to quarrel with would never get used to them.

  the other’n.”

  Howdy studied him covertly. And

  “Like that, huh? Who’s the gal, Bill?”

  grinned. The way the man stood, the way he

  “That’s the hell of it!” Bill grunted.

  looked around—little things most men never

  “It’s Sam Norvell’s daughter, Nan. And—

  would have noticed—told Howdy things.

  Well, Howdy, I just can’t fit them into the

  Things he reckoned none of his business,

  picture. You wait’ll you meet Nan, and Sam

  seeing as he didn’t know the gent and, judging

  Norvell. Crake, of course, nobody likes. But

  by his looks, didn’t care to know.

  Norvell is really the money that runs them.”

  “An’ what does Norvell think about

  HOWDY ordered his whiskey double. The

  you aimin’ at his Nan?”

  dark man turned. He stared straight at Howdy,

  “He don’t give me no encouragement.

  and scowled, his lips drawing at one corner.

  Don’t say much. Still, he seems fair, an’ ain’t Then he sniffed, said something about

  booted me away, even if I am the nephew of

  “Horse—” and walked away.

  Asia Logan.”

  Damn, but she was sure a hard job

  “Think mebbe somebody is wreckin’

  being a gent of dignity and peace, Howdy

  things to get the two outfits fightin’, so they assured himself, aching to have it out with that can step in?” Howdy wondered.

  nasty, hifalutin’ son. He motioned a bartender.

  Bill grasped that eagerly. “I think it

  “Him?” The bartender shrugged.

  could be!”

  “Don’t let him bother you. That’s Mason

  When the team was cared for, and Bill

  Crake.”

  Dineen had gone, Howdy shook his head. “I

  Howdy stood there, deep in thought,

  don’t figger I can see ’er like that, son,” he

  and a wicked, plumb ornery light in his old

  said sorrowfully.

  eyes. He grinned some, too. Maybe, now there

  He greeted a stable hand who came

  was a chance to be a dove and a pioneer and

  in—a silent, quiet man who’d never be have hiyuh wild fun right along with it.

  anything but a flunkey and hostler. Howdy

  He watched the place filling up as

  decided he wouldn’t be fixing things for outside the sun went down. The babble of accidents and such, and left him there while he voices in the Trompoose stopped suddenly,

  strolled up the street.

  and from outside came again the cry that had

  He went into the Trompoose Bar and

  silenced them:

  started to join a loud group toward the front.

  “Fist whuppin’! Fight!”

  Then he remembered his new found

  Howdy went out with the crowd.

  dignity, and that, to Whispering Valley, he

  Dust hung heavy in the still air of

  was a pioneer. (He didn’t know it, but men

  evening dust kicked up by scuffing feet of two

  were pointing him out already as the “Ol’

  men battling there. One was Gus Loffe, who

  rooster who was so funny, makin’ Tern went down as Howdy recognized him. The

  The Gun-boss of Whispering Valley 9

  other was a scar-faced individual.... Howdy

  and moseyed over there himself. He walked in

  said “Hell!” softly, and pulled back into the

  with a fine nonchalance, greeted Bill, who

  crowd. He knew Loffe’s antagonist, too. A

  stood at the end of a counter that tied in with gent named Scad Waters.

  the row of boxes and the window of the

  In Texas, some years back, Howdy had

  postoffice section of the place.

  been in jail with Scad Waters. Waters had held

  “This is Howdy Harris, Nan,” Bill

  up a stage and almost killed a man. He’d been

  introduced. The girl gave Howdy a smile that

  waiting in jail for his ride to the penitentiary.

  lit him all up inside. He said, “I’m pleased,

  Howdy watched. He saw Gus Loffe,

  ma’am. I wondered if they was any mail for

  his nose broken, spitting teeth, go down. me?”

  Waters put the boots to him. The old sheriff

  She went behind the partition, looked

  was puffing toward the scene. It was Dude

  in pigeon holes.

  Tern who stepped out, drew his gun and Howdy felt Bill’s eyes on him and said, stopped the fight.

  “Dammit, ain’t I got a right to have me some

  mail?”

  VI

  “Sure, Howdy. Got a yaller-headed

  biscuit-shooter on the end of a lass rope, back THEY helped Gus Loffe to a doctor. Scad

  down the line?”

  Waters explained to Sheriff Wayne: “He

  Howdy cussed and moved restlessly

  cussed me and shouldered me off the walk.”

  away. He went down a counter. There was a

  He turned on Dude Tern then, and Howdy

  tall, thin-faced man in a dark suit that made

  thought he detected a false note in Waters’

  Howdy think of an undertaker, facing him.

  voice when he said, “You got no business

  “Chawin’,”

  Howdy

  ordered.

  butting in!”

  He paid for the plug and loitered,

  Waters drifted on down the street. taking a long time in choosing the corner that Dude Tern moved back to the opposite suited him.

  sidewalk, and climbed to the walk before the

  “Sam!” a harsh voice snapped. “Why

  Crake-Norvell establishment. There was a slip

  let stinking tramps like this loaf arou
nd the

  of a girl there beside the door, and Tern place?”

  bowed low and handsomely, his hat in hand.

  There wasn’t a lot of friendliness in the

  HOWDY looked up. Mason Crake had come

  way the girl returned the greeting. She spoke,

  up from the rear, and stood outside this

  tossed her shapely head and turned back inside

  counter close to Howdy now. The tall man,

  the store. Dude Tern’s face was dark as he

  Sam Norvell, said stiffly, “This man is a

  yanked his headpiece back on and slammed

  customer, Mason.”

  away.

  “Customer, hell! He’s the old fool

  “I betcha that’s Nan Norvell,” Howdy

  that’s been raising trouble around today. I

  told himself. “An’ it ain’t much use in Bill

  heard of him. He was sent from here to the

  Dineen bein’ worrit about Tern. It’s hell to be pen and ...”

  in love when things get throwed in your

  Old Sheriff Wayne, in the front

  way—an’ I don’t reckon time’s goin’ to make

  doorway, called out as he came on in. “Howdy

  Crake-Norvell less enemies of the Logan Harris is a lot older now. The man he shot, tribe.”

  that time, needed it. Howdy would’ve got off,

  He saw Bill Dineen come along over

  hadn’t been he called the Judge a burro-

  there, enter the big place, and he left the walk headed fool, saying he wanted no favors off

  Action Stories

  10

  nobody. And he called me a pot-bellied Nan was crying softly, and didn’t look up.