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Red Range
By EUGENE CUNNINGHAM
(Q EUGENE CUNNINGHAM W.N.U. RELEASE_
1 THE STORY SO FAR: Forced to run
from the law to save his life when he is
. suspected of being the notorious "Co
manche Linn,” Con Cameron is trying to
■ prove his honesty. With his pal, Caram
! ba Vear, he Is working for Topeka Teni
< son, owner of the Broken Wheel ranch.
I Nevil Lowe, marshal of the neighboring
town of Tlvan, is after him but doesn't
! yet know that the "TwentyJohnson” of
the Broken Wheel is the man he suspects
of being Comanche Linn. Lowe’s sister,
j Janet, is staying with the her, Tenisons. having They lost
are deeply attached to
their only child, a boy, when he was kid
naped many years before. Among the
enemies of the Broken Wheel are Dud
Paramore, Megeath and the Latimers.
Con has already tought them and has
.
twice had to save Janet Lowe from them.
' They hate Nevil Lowe as much as the
Broken Wheel, as he is a member of an
.
organization formed to fight rustlers and
racketeers. Con makes friends with old
“Step” Gaylord, and when Martino Pala
,
tox, the deputy, learns Con’s identity,
Step persuades Palafox to let him go.
There is going to be trouble, and they
will all have to help, or the Wheelers
beaded for Helligo canyon will be killed.
Step has a plan he thinks will save them.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XIX
Light was good in the Canyon,
now. They went forward cautious
ly, when their pistols hung to suit
and the shells were divided between
them. called
“Yon’s the cabin,” Step
softly. “Slow down!”
He moved to look over a big boul
der. After a long time of staring, he
walked out and past the great rock.
Con and Martino followed.
The stone house was small, a
single spacious room built of na
tive stone. The gaping windows
were dark blurs against the weath
ered gray of the walls. Stejj shook
his head.
“Reckon nobody’s using it. Let’s
scatter out some. I’ll go left. Con,
you go ’way right. Martino, middle
for you.” directed. As, he
They moved as
walked toward the stone house, Con
listened to the faraway rattle of the
firing. He came up to the cabin,
looked at it and turned to place
Step and Martino. Neither was in
sight from where he stood, for his
had been the longest move. He could
not look into the window openings.
They were small and set high. There
was a door opening, but no door.
He went cautiously up to look in
and listen. But he saw nothing,
heard nothing, inside. He set his
carbine down and fished a match out
of his hatband, to relight his ciga
rette. Then, around the corner from
the cabin front, Dud Paramore
stepped carelessly, humming.
Con stared, not moving. Dud’s
mouth sagged, but the smoky blue
eyes did not so much as flicker. At
last he grinned.
“The Raniers told us that you’re
not Comanche Linn,” Dud said
abruptly. “Linn was killed after
that Salado business. Odd Ranier
told me you was just a kid pil
grim—”
“But slick enough to handle Quirk
Ellis without bothering to kill him,”
Con reminded him.
The tip of Dud’s tongue came out
to wet his lips. Con took a step to
ward Dud and, exactly as if pushed
by a pole, Dud took a step back
ward. Another step, and Dud dupli
cated it in reverse. The third step
took them both out into the open,
clear of the cabin. There was a
heavy report that jerked Con from
his grim concentration upon keep
ing control of Dud; a shot from the
cabin wall.
BLAKELY THEATRE
Thursday-Friday, Sept. 17-18
Andrews Sisters—Gloria Jean—Billie Burke in
“WHAT’S COOKIN’?”
Saturday, Sept. 19
“THREE MESQUITEERS” in
“PALS OF THE PECOS”
Saturday Late Show 10:30
CAROLE LANDIS—CESAR ROMERO in
“A GENTLEMAN AT HEART”
Monday-Tuesday, Sept. 21-22
MONTY WOOLEY—BETTE DAVIS in
“MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER”
Wednesday, Sept. 23
JACKIE GLEASON—JACK DURANT in
“TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP”
Dud staggered. Then, like a
drowsing cat stabbed, he whirled to
face Martino, screamed, flashed his
hands to twin Colts and whipped
them out with speed that fairly
blurred the movement. Martino sent
another big slug crashing into him,
but Dud was already falling, twisted
ly backward. His guns roared al
most together and the bullets rang
on the wall. Martino stared savage
ly down, then sighed gustily and
put up a hand to rub his cheek.
“We walked right into each oth
er,” Con said slowly. Well! He’s had
it coming for a long time. We’d bet
ter get going!”
As they got nearer, the sound of
the firing drew Con’s brows togeth
er. He began to hurry. But, with
out meeting anyone, they came out
of the wide Canyon, where cattle
and horses grazed undisturbed by
the battle their brands had brought
about, into a narrow gorge as deep
as the valley it led from. Step waved
toward the walls of the entry-can
yon. But already Con had seen
smoke rising from point after point
up there. He nodded and they con
tinued silently until Step halted
them where a long jumble of boul
ders split the canyon and the beaten
trail hugged each wall.
Sitting comfortably behind a pair
of boulders that gave him a rest
ing notch for the carbine, Con saw
that Step put down his battered hat
under his stomach, before stretching
at length. Then he looked up at the
wall and the little carbine flamed.
Like something jerked, a blue-and
black figure came sideways from
high on the left wall, began to turn
over and over in air. It fell with
the seeming of slowness, then van
ished on a level with Con’s eyes.
“Come on!” he ordered. “Four
down. Kind of timid souls, looks
like. Maybe wondering about thpse
doings behind ’em. Keep to the
walls and watch!”
They edged along the rugged sides
of the canyon for fifty yards. Then
Martino jerked a thumb at the hud
dled man just ahead. Con stared
and shook his head.
“Now, tie that!" Martino grunted.
“Janton, Onopa constable.”
Step waved them down behind
boulders, again. Con could see the
mouth of the narrow canyon and
from the rough mesa on which it
opened came heavy, ragged fire. But
it was overhead that he looked. He
was too close under the right wall
to see anyone above him. But he
understood that they were to cross
fire, Step shooting to the right, he
and Martino to the left.
Just beyond him, three men
seemed to be alarmed by the cry.
Con began to shoot quickly, as Mar
tino moved for a new position. Step
slapped shots at the other wall. A
long, shrill cry lifted above the roar
of the shooting:
“They’re down in the canyon! Be
hind us! Look out!”
Apparently, not all of the rnstler
defenders had taken to the guard
rocks and shelves above the floor.
Ducking, dodging, men began to ap
pear straight ahead of the three.
In the van he saw a big, dark man,
with a hulking double of him close
behind. He leveled his carbine at
Latimer, saw him fall with the shot,
shifted aim to the runner who had
jumped aside and fired again.
The first fury of the charge slack
ened. The fight became a series of
individual battles, between Con,
Martino, and Step, each hugging his
shelter, and men of the other side
similarly covered. The advantage
was even. But there was yelling
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A hatchet face was feet
outside where the cowboy line was.’
Over the concentration of hunting
targets without exposing himself,
Con heard the Indian-like yipping.
He moved to the side and peered
around his boulder, looking down the
barrel of his carbine. A hatchet
face was exposed twenty feet away,
above a pistol. Con fired at Gloomy
Megeath and the face disappeared.
Up from a rock, as if stung, jumped
the lanky, yellow-haired Saint West,
to drop again under the thunder of
guns. Something exploded in Con’s
skull . . .
From the flat ground behind his
boulder, Con felt himself falling.
“It’s certainly cold for this time of
year,” he said politely to someone
beside him. “It seems to be getting
into my throat, too. Hard to talk.
Wonder what I’ll land on . . .”
He saw Janet come up to the train
in Wild Horse and she looked at
him and touched Nevil’s arm.
“That is a murderer from Texas,”
she said. “Be very careful about
him.”
She stepped through the train and
that seemed strange to Con. He
wanted to tell her that he was—But
who was he? He tried to remem
ber, but Uncle Hugh only looked at
him with blank face and refused to
answer. Aunt Hetty shook her head.
“You’re Mr. Norris’ sister’s boy,
Con.”
She had never called Uncle Hugh
anything but Mr. Norris. But some
body, somewhere, knew who he was.
A fat, cheerful man, with a round,
red face like a balloon, wiped his
hands on a flour-sack apron—no, his
hand! For where his left arm should
have been was a shining steel hook.
Con forgot to ask him about his
name. Something else was much
more important. He stood by the
corral in the Broken Wheel door
yard and looked all around him, even
squatting to examine the ground
close to the butts of the logs.
“I want Billy Turtle!” he yelled.
“Con! Con!”
But that was just a dream. He
opened his eyes and found a wall
ahead of him, a cool-looking wall of
buff plaster. Faces came between
him and the wall, Topeka’s and the
docter’s and Janet’s and Mrs. Teni
son’s. They all seemed happy about
something. Even Topeka was grin
ning.
A hand touched his forehead and
he knew that he had been asleep
and someone had been humming
close by. The hand was taken away
and he opened his eyes.
“Sonny!” Mrs. Tenison said soft
ly. “Sonny, are you awake?”
“Sort of,” he answered thickly,
and fell a.sleep again.
When he waked in the room again,
the hand was still on his forehead.
But Janet looked down at him. He
smiled when she smiled.
“You — you know me?” she
breathed.
“Trouble has been,” he said care
fully, “that you didn’t know me. In
spite of all my telling—”
Then he remembered the Canyon.
“What happened—at the fight?”
he demanded. “Did—”
“Thanks to you and Step and Mar
tino Palafox, Helligo Canyon is just
a place, now. You came so close to
getting through it all without a
scratch! Then at the last you were
hit three times almost at once, Mar
tino says. On the head, in the arm
and the leg. But you mustn’t bother
about it. The doctor says—”
“Step and Martino all right? Mr.
Tenison and Caramba?”
“Step has two more scars and
Martino one. But they were just
flesh wounds. Your—Mr. Tenison
and Caramba weren’t hit. Some of
the cowboys were killed; more were
hurt.”
He lay looking at her, thinking.
“We know about Comanche Linn,
noW,” she said. “Both Raniers were
killed in the fight. Nevil had a
telegram from the Salado officers.
They had found Linn, buried on a
ranch where the Ranier gang often
hid. Nothing that you’ve done, in
the Territory, will ever be thought
of as anything but good.”
“That’s fine! So, if I want to stick
on the Wheel and learn the busi
ness, looking to the day when I’ll
hate a ranch of my o wn— ”
_
“A ranch of your own!" she in
terrupted, “Do you remember own
ing a turtle—a desert tortoise, that
is?’’
“I never did! That is, unless you
count dream turtles. Three-four
times a year, all my life, I’ve had
a nightmare about hunting a turtle
named Billy. But I never find him.
I fall over a cliff and hurt myself—”
“Break your arm! Lie in the ar
royo for hours before you’re found—
by your closest friend and childish
idol, Con, the one-armed cook of the
Wheel!” she finished for him in a
rush. “That Billy Turtle was your
prize possession. He was always
straying, so old Con branded him
WT. You’d go hunting him, calling
—and calling for Con, who was the
one you turned to for help in all
your affairs—”
“What are you talking about? How
do you know about my dream? And
more than I ever dreamed?”
“Didn’t you ever wonder about
this broken bone in your left arm?
Didn’t—that uncle ever tell you
about it?”
“Happened when I was a baby.
In—Horsehide.”
“It happened within a quarter
mile of this house! And your scarred
‘uncle’ was Emory, who stole you!
But—he must have had some good
in him; he made a fine man of you.
He—”
“You—you mean that I’m—Ware
Tenison?”
“Nobody else! The evidence just
rolled in, all at once! The cook re
membered the name of a man
scarred just as you said your “un
cle” was scarred—Emory. The doc
tor saw your broken arm and re
membered the break in Ware Teni
son’s. Then, all through your de
lirium, you called for Billy Turtle
and Con—the things that everybody
who knew you at four remembered
about you. Your mother—well, you’ll
see her. Your father is going around
one walking smile.”
“I am thinking,” he said very
slowly, looking away from her. “If
I hadn’t somehow headed for this
country, like a homing pigeon, you
would have inherited this place. I—
I have to think about that, Janet. Ii
would have come to you, because of
the way they feel toward you—”
“Come to me? Do you think for
one minute that I—”
“Don’t bite me! What I am think
ing is—”
He managed to get a weak hand
up and find hers and hold it, even
draw upon it enough to bring her
down closer.
“—If there might not be a way
that you wouldn’t lose all the Wheel?
Try and think! You’re an educated
girl. Can’t you figure some way
that’ll let us both have a share of
the place?”
“If you’re thinking what I’m think
ing—I certainly can!”
And she carried the arm up, about
her neck, and put her face against
his.
“A fine tassel end to this lariat,”
he whispered. “Fine!”
[THE END]
CITATION
GEORGIA, Early County:
John W. Taylor as guardian of
the person and property of Miss N.
Taylor having filed his petition to
be allowed to resign his said trust,
and suggesting W. R. Taylor of said
county as a suitable person to be
appointed in his stead: this is to
cite all persons, including kindred
and creditors, to show cause before
the Court of Ordinary of said county
on the first Monday in October,
1942, why an order allowing such
resignation should not be granted
and why W. R. Taylor should not be
appointed guardian of the person
and property of Miss N. L. Taylor,
in the place and stead of the said
John W. Taylor. This September
7th, 1942.
D. C. MORGAN, Ordinary.
WANTED —To buy scrap it
rubber and metal. Located next to
Nathan Collier’s. J. B. BOWMAN.
Our Phone No.
Is ISO
Call us for the best in
Meats and Groceries.
We carry at all times a complete
line of Fancy and Family Groceries.
It is our purpose to keep what the
public wants.
••
The place where quality counts—
The place where goods are fresh—
The place where prices are right—
FRYER’S MARKET
BLAKELY, GEORGIA
\
★ ★
What l^fou Buff, With
WAR BANDS
★ ★
Navy Cruisers are built in two
classes, light and heavy, the latter
displacing about 10,000 tons. Our
navy has about an equal number
of light, and heavy Cruisers, the
10,000 ton Cruiser costing approxi
mately $20,000,000. Many Cruisers
are under construction and many
more are needed.
ft
To pay for these speedy and. pow
erful ships with their heavy guns
and armament we must buy War
Bonds. Citizens of a large town or
a given community, working in uni
ty, could buy one of these ships for
the Navy if they put at least ten
percent of their income in War
Bonds every pay day.
V. S. Treasury Department
• v ’«r
«
- - ,_-f j. . .
.i \ •
\
from Nereis a MAN
this family
>■
IN THE NAVY
£ ►
FOR FAMILIES OF NAVY MEN
This window sticker is being issued in color. It
may be obtained by applying to the nearest Navy
Recruiting Station, Post Office Building, Albany, Ga.,
or at the News office.
BRING YOUR COWS AND HOGS TO US!
Our pens are located at
the old Early County
Club yards near Bryant’s
Mill. We buy, trade or
sell. Your business will
be appreciated.
Telephones: Office 256; Residence 186
Mosely Livestock Yards
W. L, Mosely, Blakely, Ga,
CITATION
GEORGIA—Early County:
John W. Taylor, guardian of the
person and property of Mrs. M. E.
Taylqr (now deceased), represents
to the Court of Ordinary of said
county in his duly filed petition
which has been entered on record,
that he has fully administered and
accounted for said estate of Mrs. M.
E. Taylor, now deceased. This is,
therefore, to cite all persons con
cerned, kindred and creditors, to
show cause, if any they have or can,
why said guardian should not be
discharged from his trust and ad
ministration and receive letters of
dismission on the First Monday in
October, 1942.
This September 7th, 1942.
D. C. MORGAN, Ordinary.
BLAKELY CHAPTER NO. 282
ORDER EASTERN STAR
Holds regular meeting nights ev
ery second and fourth Thursday
nights, 7:30 o’clock p. m.
MRS. SALLY GOOCHER,
Worthy Matron.
Mrs. Nora Scarborough,
Secretary. •