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fREDRANGEI
By EUGENE CUNNINGHAM |
| (O EUGENE CUNNINGHAM VZM-U. RELEASE
THE STORY SO FAR: Forced to run
from the law to save his life when he is j
suspected of being the notorious "Co- |
manche Linn,” Con Cameron is trying to
prove his honesty. With his pal, Ca
ramba Vear, he Is working for Topeka
Tenison, owner of the Broken Wheel
ranch. Nevi! Lowe, marshal of the neigh
boring town of Tivan, is after him but
doesn't yet know that the "Twenty John
son” of the Broken Wheel is the man he
suspects of being Comanche Linn. Lowe’s
sister, Janet, is staying with the Teni
sons. They are deeply attached to her,
having lost their only child, a boy, when
« he was kidnaped many years before. On
their way out to the ranch after per
suading Tenison to give them the Job,
Con and Caramba met Monk Irby, one
of the Megeath crowd. Megeath and Dud
Paramere, leader of another band of out
laws, hate both Nevil Lowe and the Bro
j ken Wheel outfit. In the fight which fol
lowed their meeting with Irby, Con
knocked out Irby. Then he and Ca
' ramba fought off more of Megeath’s men
to protect Janet Lowe. When Mrs. Teni
«on sent Con to find out how tjje “Bfst
•' ers,” the (Traceys, were coining along,
Con found Mr. Gracey dead and Mrs.
Cracey and the boy seriously hurt. To
peka sent Con into town for a doctor,
with instructions to tell the constable,
Janton, and no one else about his suspi
cions that it was Monk Irby who shot
the Graceys.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XV
The constable was in a poker
game in a corner of the big can
tina. The place was almost desert
ed. Two or three such games as
that of the constable looked to be of
the all-night variety.
Con went back to straddle a chair
opposite -Janton, and when a hand
was finished, the lanky constable
looked curiously at him.
“Don’t tell me you already quit
the Busted Wheel!”
“No. Not yet. I was sent in to
bring the doctor and—to put a mur
der case in somebody’s lap. Yours,
maybe.”
“That’s the sheriff’s bailiwick,”
Janton said drawlingly. “Hell on
murders, Nevil Lowe is.”
“Somebody’s always getting killed
in the territory,” one of the players
drawled. “But, go ahead! Who was
it?”
“He not only got murdered in a
pretty slinking, bushwhacking way,
but his wife and little boy got
shot—”
“Gracey!” Janton said quickly, al
most mechanically.
“Oh! You already knew about it,
did you?”
“Uh-uh. Just knowed damn’ well
it was bound to come. Well, nothing
I can do.”
“Could you be talked into arrest
ing Gracey’s murderer if you found
him right in town?”
“Where is he, here in town?”
“He was heading this way, the
last time I saw him. But I didn’t
see it done. I couldn’t swear to a
thiryj.”
“Best not to talk much if you
can’t swear to things,” that cowboy
next to Janton advised him sagely.
“Whose deal?”
The players laughed. Con shook
his head, sighed, and got lazily to
his feet.
“I believe I’ll get a drink and call
it a day.”
He ate breakfast in Carmelita’s,
among other early risers, cowboys
and freighters and prospectors and
those men of Onopa who had stores
or other businesses to open. Janton
came in, alone. When he saw Con
at a vacant table, he slouched over
to sit down and grin.
“I don’t want you should think 1
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don’t give a hoot about murders,”
he said genially, “just because I
never got forked up about Gracey.
Us that’s been around here a long
time, naturally, we know things you
don’t. Now, Gracey, he was al
ways just begging for a killing.
He drank coffee noisily, squinting,
shaking his head.
“You know-nothing personal! but
—some folks might say you coming
in with this tale about Monk Irby
murdering Gracey was all part of a
scheme to put Monk out of the way.
Because Monk and Slash was awful
good friends and Monk’s a danger-
CUs man, any way you take him.”
“No. No, you’re wrong about
that,” Con disagreed placidly. “I’m
not a bit more afraid of Monk than
lam of—of you, Janton, and you
need your two barrels of buck to
make me nervous. Well, I’ve got
to take the doctor out and report to
Topeka Tenison about what you said
and did.”
The constable moved uneasily, but
said nothing. Con paid for his break
fast and went out. He walked slow
ly toward the doctor’s house, puz
zling Janton’s manner.
He met the doctor, hurrying along
the street with his bag.
“Be an hour or two before I’m
ready,” the gray little man panted.
“Been up since four.”
“I think,” Con told himself with
some pleasure, “that now I’ve got
time to look around for Mr. M.
Irby. And if he should want to re
member me, goodness forbid that I
put anything at all in his way!”
But nowhere in Onopa could he
find Monk Irby. He asked no ques
tions, merely looked.
In the big cantina he. found that
nervous bartender who had served
him and Caramba. Con went far
down the bar and stood by himself.
When the bartender brought him
bottle and glass, he stopped and
looked at the labeled array of liquor
in the back bar, as if discussing it.
“You and that redhead partner
sure played hell in High Z with
them lady-wranglers of Gloomy’s,”
he said in a low voice. “They
bulged into town a-licking their sores
like a bunch of scalded hountls. No
body was killed, but some was shot
awful bad. They say Gloomy’s prom
ised to wipe out your mark. But
from what Monk Irby spewed out,
he ain’t going to wait for Gloomy!”
Con asked the bartender where
Gloomy and Monk were.
“There’s a liT bitsy plazita, just
two-three Mex’ houses, on the road
to Helligo Canyon. The bunch stops
there lots of times. I think that’s
where they went, yesterday. Watch
your step, young fellow!”
He went up the bar to serve cus
tomers and Con lifted his glass and
set it down empty. Then a rasping
voice sounded, almost in his ear.
“Ain’t you workin for that damn’
Busted Wheel?”
Con turned very carefully. When
he saw the face thrust out toward
his, he made a disgusted grimace
and drew back. It was a big man,
Indian dark, with shiny stubble of
beard from eyes to collarbone. One
inky eye was permanently slitted by
an old weal that slanted across eye
brow and cheekbone and notched
the high nose bridge. Thick, loose
mouth shone bluish-red against the
black of his straggling mustache.
He wore no shell belt, but high on
his hip, under an old coat, was a
stubby Colt. His hand was on it.
Con’s gun was in his waistband, un
der his shirt.
He flashed his hand up and inside
his shirt and out again. The big
EARLY COUNTY NEWS, BLAKELY, GEORGIA
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r ' Blackbeard staggered and Con rushed in.
man was jerking out his pistol, but
Con thought triumphantly that he
had beaten him. Then from behind
him a hand knocked down his Colt,
struck his arm again and the gun
roared as it fell. He took a heavy
blow in the back that drove him for
ward. Instinctly, he clawed at the
tall man’s thick wrist, caught it
and twisted savagely with all the
strength of powerful shoulders and
wiry arms.
Con fell into him and clung, lifting
his feet off the floor' and kicking
viciously backward. He felt a heel
strike something soft and heard a
groan. Then his toes touched the
floor again and he kicked the big
man on his shin. The grip on his
arm relaxed slightly and he
snatched free, to rise on tiptoe and
swing a long right to the cheek.
Blackbeard staggered and Con
rushed in. He slid back as the big
figure crumpled, began to turn to
get at the second man, and felt the
impact of an almost knockout blow
on his jaw.
“He sure does set up nights to
hate a Busted Wheeler, Latimer
does,” one of the voices said mar
velingly. “But if it hadn’t been for
that nephew of his helping him,
there’s one Wheeler would have
killed him first crack out of the box.
He beat Latimer to it, only that
boy knocked his arm down. Lati
mer had his hand on the cutter,
too!”
Con sat up so abruptly that men
bent over him jerked back out of
the way. Automatically, he put his
hand inside his shirt and groped
for his Colt.
Hands helped him. He peered
around and the bartender pushed
over his pistol. He spun the cylin
der to see that the loads were in
tact, let down the hammer upon an
empty chamber, and shoved the gun
into his waistband. He stood sulkily
for a moment, but the doctor took
him by the arm and moved him
toward the door.
Riding beside the doctor’s buggy,
going out of Onopa, Con asked about
the Latimers and was told that they
had been in the country less than a
year. Latimer had a small outfit
between the Broken Wheel and Hel
ligo Canyon.
“Ah!” Con said softly. “Between
the Wheel and the Canyon.”
“That’s what Topeka thought! The
first time he found Latimer wander
ing around the Wheel side of the
line, he called it a natural acci
dent. But the second time it hap
pened, he and the boys with him
escorted Latimer across the line
and invited him to stay there. Lati
mer has hammered every Broken
Wheel cowboy he could find, since
then. You’re the seventh or eighth.”
“Why, maybe I’ll be the last one,
then. If that nephew of his hadn’t
hit me from behind, today, the Lat
imers would have been holding lil
ies, not guns.”
The doctor looked very tolerantly
at him and shook his gray head.
They talked little, after that. Con
was becoming more and more con
scious of his soreness. He was glad
to swing down in the Broken Wheel
yard and take the doctor’s buggy in
charge. Dinner had been eaten,
but Con got a handout from the cook,
who asked no questions about his
battered face.
Then Perch looked into the kitchen
of the bunkhouse and with sight of
Con whooped shrilly and whirled
about.
“Gale!” he yelled. “Oh, Gale!
Twenty Johnson just come in, pack
ing the Latimer trademark. Why’n’t
you tell this pilgrim what he might
run into, around Onopa?”
Goree appeared, behind him. But
before he could speak, Topeka Teni
son looked over Perch’s shoulder.
He shook his head slightly, frown
ing. Con continued to eat placidly,
but he’was beginning to feel irrita
tion. A corner of Tenison’s mouth
lifted and he turned to Goree.
“We won’t wait for the horses
from Red Mesa,” he said. “I won't
hold the wagon, I mean. You take
the boys that are ready and pull
out. When Johnny Dutch and Skeets
and Caramba come in from the
Mesa with the horses, the rest cf
the boys can get fixed .up. Now,
you got your rep’s picked?”
“All right,” Tenison answered Go
ree’s nod. “We’ll meet the other
wagons at Antelope Springs and
scatter our rep’s. You stay here on
the place, Twenty. You, too, Perch.”
“Huh?” Con grunted, putting
down his coffee. “You don’t want
me on roundup? I certainly would
like to—”
“Got plenty. Somebody’s got to
stick here,” Tenison told him curt
ly, turning away.
To be left here as a sort of chore
boy was bad enough, but to be left
because Tenison weighed him
against other men, and classed him
as a weakling by Wheel standards,
was far worse. He went toward the
corrals, eyes moodily upon the
ground. Then from the house Mrs.
Tenison called him.
“I’m glad you’re going to stay with
us,” she said, smiling at him. “I
asked for you, but it didn’t seem that
I was going to get you. Gale thinks
a lot of your roping. But you’re
staying and that pleases me, son.
For, with all the trouble we’ve been
having—You know, of course, that
Megeath intended to carry off Janet
the other night. I’m glad you’re go
ing to be around, son.”
“I’ll play bulldog,” Con assured
her evenly. “How’s the hospitcJ, by
the way? That boy all right?”
“I’m going to keep him in bed for
a while yet. He developed more fe
ver. The only way we could talk him
into lying quiet was to tell him you’d
ordered it.”
“He minds what I say because he
thinks I’m your mother,” Mrs. Teni
son said, with a soft, strange little
laugh. “And he looked at Janet
and called her “Mis’ Twenty” and
said all right; if you had told us to
tell him to be quiet, he would!”
“I’m certainly getting fixed up
with a family, now!” Con cried—and
felt that he was flushing and won
dered why he should be.
“She’s a fine girl, Janet,” Mrs.
Tenison sighed, as if speaking aloud.
“Her mother was the best friend I
had and Janet was born right here.
She’s a pretty girl and g fine girl
any way you think of her.”
“Yes,” Con admitted, “she cer
tainly seems to be that. I never
saw a girl to touch her. And her
brother—”
He stopped short, wondering how
much he was supposed to know
about the Territory. Mrs. Tenison
only nodded.
“Nevil is a fine boy. Much of a
man. I could wish that he wasn’t
sheriff.”
Con thought that he had talked as
much as was safe. So he agreed
that ,a good man had been needed
and “thought” that he was wanted
at the corrals, where Goree and oth
ers were.
Goree put him to work, helping
to load the wagon with supplies and
equipment.
(To Be Continued)
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SHERIFF’S TAX SALE
GEORGIA—EarIy County:
There will be sold by the under
signed on the First Tuesday in Sep
tember, 1942, at public outcry to the
highest bidder for cash, before the
courthouse door of Early County,
Georgia, in the City of Blakely,
within the legal hours of sale, the
east one-half of the southeast quar
ter of lot of land number 223 in the
26th Land District of Early County,
Georgia, containing 31 1-4 acres,
more or less.
Said real estate levied upon and
to be sold under a certain tax exe
cution issued against it in rem by J.
L. Houston, Tax Commissioner of
Early County, Georgia, on June Ist,
1942, for its unpaid State, County
and School taxes for the year 1935.
Said property not having been re
turned for taxation by anyone since
prior to January Ist, 1935, and its
owner being unknown, and it being
impossible to rent or hire such prop
erty for enough to bring the requi
site amount to pay such taxes. The
undersigned also has in his hands six
additional tax executions issued
against said property by said Tax
Commissioner on June Ist, 1942, for
said property’s unpaid State, County
and School taxes for the years
1936, 1937, 1938, 1939, 1940 and
1941 respectively.
This June Ist, 1942.
C. E. MARTIN, Sheriff.
A Word to My Farmer
Friends in Early County
Although thousands of miles from home
on the high seas and unable to greet
you personally at this cotton ginning
season, I bespeak for Martin & King
Gin a portion of your 1942 ginning.
The plant has been thoroughly con
ditioned for the new season and will
give you a sample as good as the best.
Best wishes for a bumper crop
for every Early county farmer!
MILTON E. MARTIN
Ensign U. S. N. R.
BRING YOUR COWS AND HOGS TO US!
Our pens are located at
the old Early County
Club yards near Bryant’s ■ S
Mill. We buy, trade or ’*«
sell. Your business will ~*
be appreciated.
Telephones: Office 256; Residence 186
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W. L. Mosely, - Blakely, Ga.
NOTICE TO DEBTORS AND
CREDITORS
GEORGIA—EarIy County:
All creditors of the estate of
Vernon Lee Collins, late of Early
county, deceased, are hereby notified
to render in their demands to the
undersigned according to law, and all
persons indebted to said estate are
required to make immediate pay
ment. This August 17, 1942.
• MRS. ANNETTA HIGHTOW
ER COLLINS, as Adminis
tratrix of the Estate of Ver
non Lee Collins, deceased.
WANTED Several families X>f
colored people to pick cotton, also
plenty of day labor work; would
trade with tenants for 1943 crop if
can move now. 0. J. JOHNSON,
Moultrie, Ga. 6-3 t
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