V/.N.U. Release
INSTALLMENT 2
THE STORY SO FAR:
Dusty King and Lew Gordon were
Joint owners of the vast King-Gordon
range which stretched from Texas to
Montana. When building up this string
of ranches, they continually had to fight
the unscrupulous Ben Thorpe. Thorpe
rivaled Ktng-Gordan in power and
wealth, but he had gained hia position
through wholesale cattle rustling and
gunplay. Their opposing interests came
to a showdown when the Government
announced the auctioning ot the Crying
Wolf land In Montana. Bill Roper, King’s
adopted son, had Inspected this territory
and found It to contain an almost.un
believable wealth of grass. Bidding went
high at the auction, but King beat out
Thorpe to gain control of the land.
ft ft
CHAPTER II
An hour spent in the Wells Fargo
office with the deputy commission
er, filling out forms, signing papers,
ended as Dusty King and Bill Roper
•tood with Lew Gordon on the board
walk. It was the first time the three
had had a word alone since the Cry
ing Wolf had passed into the hands
of King-Gordon.
“Well,’' said Dusty King, “we got
her.”
“Maybe,” Gordon said, “this is
our chance. Maybe now we can get
the cow business on a sound basis,
here in the north, and have some
order, end decent law.”
“You’ll never get a ‘sound basis'
untU Ben Thorpe is bust,” Dusty
•aid. "What law enforcement we
got in the West is rotten through and
through with office holders that
Thorpe owns.”
“Some day,” Gordon said slowly,
“Ben Thorpe has got to go.”
“Some day? Lew, we’ve got him
beat!”
King’s exuberant mood of victory
was not to be dampened. “You want
law and order?” he chortled. “We’ll
•how ’em law and order!”
“That puts me in mind,” said Gor
don. “A feller passed me this here
to give to you.” He handed Dusty
King a little twisted scrap of paper,
tom off the corner of something
else. Dusty untangled it, looked at
It a moment, showed it to the others.
Five words were penciled on it in
•prawling black letters:
IN GOD’S NAME LOOK OUT
“Who’s this from, Lew?”
Gordon’s lips moved almost
soundlessly. “Dry Camp Pierce.”
Roper knew that name, without
knowing what lengths of outlawry
had brought Dry Camp Pierce to
where he was today. Rewards
backed by Ben Thorpe were on Dry
Camp’s scalp over half the West;
probably it was as much as hia life
was worth to show himself in Og
allala now.
“This note—”
Dusty King tossed it off with a
shrug. “Oh—I suppose Thorpe is
getting drunk some place and spout
ing off about what all he's going to
do to me, when he catches up.”
Dusty’s teeth showed in his infec
tious grin. “I suppose Dry Camp
thought I ought to know about it”
“He’s right. Dusty,” Lew Gordon
said. “We do want to look out, all
of us, all the time.”
“We always had to look out,”
Dusty scoffed.
“It'll be the more so now. There
Isn’t anything in the world Ben
Thorpe’s people will stop at, Dusty.”
“Let 'em come on.”
“We want to look out," Gordon
said again.
“If you feel that way about it,”
said Dusty, “what was the idea of
your working through that law we
can’t wear guns in town?”
Bill Roper said, “We could have
brought it to an open shoot-out, five
years ago—ten years ago. Better if
we had.”
Gordon shook his head. “Noth
ing ever gets fixed up with guns.”
Dusty King pulled his hat a little
more on one side so that he could
wink at Bill Roper unobserved. But
he said, “He’s partly right. Bill. Ben
Thorpe isn’t just one man any more.
Walk Lasham—Cleve Tanner—any
one of a dozen others could step into
his shoes. It’s a whole rotten or
ganization has to be busted up.”
“Ben Thorpe downed, and they’ll
quit,” Bill Roper thought.
“Ben Thorpe down and it’s only
begun,” Dusty countered. “Get it
out of your head that you can fix
anything up by downing Ben Thorpe.
Not while this organization stands
In one piece. Might be a good idea
for you to remember that, Bill, in
case anything happens.”
“Dusty,” Bill said, “if ever they
get you, by God, I’ll get Ben Thorpe
if it’s the last—”
“No,” said Dusty. "You hear me?
No. If they get me—you’ll remem
ber what I said. You remember
you’re fighting a thing, and a big
one; not just one man.” His face
crinkled in that familiar, contagious
grin. “Forget it! Dry Camp’s
spooky, that’s all.”
He hooked an arm through his
partner’s, and went swaggering off.
Ten paces down the walk he
stopped, turned, and came back.
He leaned close to Roper. “If any
thing should happen, kid—remem
ber what I said.”
CHAPTER III
That Lew Gordon had a daughter
was not so surprising as that he had
only one. Single-minded, he clung
all his life to the memory of the
wife he had lost when their first
child was born.
Jody Gordon was twenty now. She
didn’t exactly run Lew Gordon; no
body did that. But it was fairly ap
parent that his stubborn bid for su
premacy in western cattle was in
tended in her behalf, and without her
would have been meaningless to
him.
Because Gordon hadn’t wanted his
girl filtering around through the
press of Ben Thorpe’s rufflians at
the auction, getting his own boys
into fights, Jody Gordon was wait
ing here for news of what had hap
pened to the Crying Wolf. Bill Rop
er vaulted the foolish little picket
gate, scuffed the mud off his boots
on the high front steps, and let him
self in. He sent a Comanche war
gobble ringing through the house,
but Jody was already flying into the
room.
‘‘Did you get it? Did you get it?”
‘‘All of it!”
Jody flung herself at him, and
kissed him; so sweet, so vital, so
completely feminine that he wanted
to keep her close to him. But she
broke away again as he tried to
hold her.
“How much did it cost?”
"Seventy cents—gold.”
Jody’s breath caught. "Can we
come out on it?”
"Sure we can come out on it. Not
a cent less would’ve turned the
trick. Dusty—”
Jody sat on a walnut table that
had come all the way from St. Louis,
and swung her feet. The story
seemed to tickle her in more ways
than one. “I can just see you all,”
But she broke away as he tried
to hold her.
she said, “standing around making
an impression on each other."
He turned from the window, and
she was laughing at him as he had
thought, her mouth smothered with
her fingers.
“Come here a minute," he said,
going toward her.
She twisted from the edge of the
table, as if to put it between them,
but she was too late. His rope-hard
fingers caught her wrist, and held
her as easily as if he had dallied
a calf to the horn.
“Listen,” he begged her. “Lis
ten—”
He caught her up, clamped an
arm behind her head, and kissed
her hard. Hard, and for a long
time.
So long as she was rigid in his
arms, fighting him, he held her;
but when she stood limp, neither
yielding nor resisting, his arms re
laxed, and Jody tore herself free.
She lashed out at him like a little
mustang, striking him across the
mouth. Her face was white, all that
quick, irrepressible laughter gone,
as for a moment she looked at him.
A trickle of blood ran from Bill
Roper’s lips, and made a crooked
mark on his chin. Then she turned
and fled.
When she was gone Bill Roper
stood still, sucking his cut lips. After
a little while he went to the win
dow, instinctively turning to open
space for his answers.
He could remember Jody Gordon
as a little tow-headed kid, before her
hair had darkened into the elusive
misty brown that it was now. Or as
a colt-legged girl with scratches on
her shins from riding bare-legged
through the sage. Or as a peculiar
ly tempestuous, uncertain thing, nei
ther child nor woman. But this
latest phase he couldn't understand
at all.
He picked up his hat, and for a lit
tle while stood turning it in his
hands. Then he threw it in the
corner, and went searching through
the house.
Jody was in the tallest of the four
foolish towers. From here you could
see the town, and the slim, glitter
ing line of the railroad, connecting
these far plainsmen with a world
hungry for beef.
Jody said matter-of-factly, “We’ve
got to have more loading pens, Bill.”
Bill’s face broke into a slow grin.
Abruptly he laid hard hands on dis
used sashes, and broke them open.
Into their little cubicle flowed the
sweet air of the open prairie sweep,
inspiriting with die fresh smell of
the new grass.
She said, “Tell me about your new
job.”
“It isn’t new.”
“They said that you’d be the new
boss of the Crying Wolf, if we got
it.” Jody said.
For more years than he could re
member, he had been working to
ward this opportunity—the chance
to take two years, or three, with
such-and-such cattle, on such-and
such land, and show that he could
pay out on market deliveries in
pounds of beef. But now—a mil
lion horns and hoofs didn’t seem to
mean so much.
Something was here—something
that wasn’t any place else—not on
the long trail, not in the wild termi
nal towns. He knew now he had to
tell her that, and he dreaded it, be
cause she probably would think it
was funny. He wouldn't look at
her as he spoke, because he didn’t
want to see her laughing at him.
“I don’t know as I’m so much in
terested as I was,” he said.
“Why, Billy—not interested in the
Crying Wolf—nearly five hundred
square miles of feeder land! What's
come over you?"
“I guess maybe I’m tired of rid
ing alone,” Bill said.
“Alone? With all the outfit you’ll
have—I wouldn’t call it alone.”
"I would. Grass country is lonely
country,” he said now, "as lonely
as the dry plains. You get to won
dering what the everlasting cattle
add up to, in the course of a life.
Then some night you know you don’t
care what they add up to; and you
think, ’Damn fat beef!’ ”
"Why, Billy—why, Billy—”
“None of it means a damn, with
out you’re there,” he told her.
"Working cattle doesn’t mean any
thing, because you’ll always have
all the cattle you need anyway; and
no long trail means anything, with
out you’re at the end of it. I’m sick
of long drive-trails, empty of you
at the end.”
There was a long, motionless si
lence; he kept his eyes on the far
sand hills as presently she leaned
forward to look up into his face.
“You really mean it, don’t you?”
Jody said.
Jody’s words came very faSnt, and
a little breathless.
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
He looked at her then, and she
wasn't laughing. In her eyes was a
new, grave light, such as he had
never seen; a warm light, a beloved
light, better than sunset to a weary
day-rider who has worked leather
since before dawn. Timorously, but
very willingly, she came into his
arms; and he held her as if she were
not only a very precious but a very
fragile thing. For a little while it
seemed that one trail, a trail longer
than the Long Trail itself, had come
to its end.
“Can’t believe,” he said at last,
his lips in her hair, “you’re sure
enough mine.”
“All yours—all, all”
They had one hour, there In the
prairie lookout tower, discovering
each other, getting acquainted as if
for the first time. The sun went
down in a gorgeous welter of color.
Jody shivered a little. “I wish
Dad and Dusty would come. Espe
cially Dusty.”
“Why?”
“He has so many enemies. Some
of them are dangerous as diamond
backs. It worries me when he’s due
and doesn’t get back.”
“Dusty’ll take care of himself."
Bill Roper chuckled, and held her
closer.
One half hour more . . .
Up from the town came a crazily
ridden horse, splashing mud eaves
high under the urge of spur and
quirt.
“He’ll lame his pony if he goes
down in that slick,” Bill commented.
"Now what do you suppose—”
The rider tried to pull up in front
of the house, and the frantic pony
swerved and slid, mouth wide open
to the sky. Its shoulder crashed
the fence, taking down a dozen feet
of pickets. The rider tumbled off,
ran up the steps to hammer on the
door.
Roper went clattering down the
stairs, pulled open the door. “Now
listen, you—”
“Bill—Dusty—Mr. King—he—”
Bill Roper froze, and there was a
long moment of paralyzed silence.
“Spit it out, man" Roper shouted
at him.
“Bill—he’s daid!”
“Who—who—”
“Dusty King’s daid Bill, they
gunned him — they gunned him
down!”
“Who did?”
“Tain’t known. Mr. Gordon’s
there; he—”
Bill Roper walked out past the
cowboy stiffly, like a man gone
blind. Without knowing what he did
he walked down to the gate, and
stood gripping the pickets with his
two hands.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Flower-Edged Hats, Parasols,
Latest Wedding Innovations
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
, ^ , |
PROSPECTIVE brides and bride
grooms usually plan the floral
color schemes for the wedding party
together, since the groom is respon
sible for the bouquets carried by
the bride and her attendants.
Fashions in fresh flower arrange
ments promise brides of summer
1941 the utmost in beauty. White iris
combined with white galdioli in a
bridal bouquet tied with lace will be
a favorite for the early summer
wedding and orchids, lilies, roses,
stock and sweet peas in modem or
old-fashioned bouquets will be in de
mand for bridal parties throughout
the summer.
Whether a wedding emulates one
of the periods of past history or
anticipates next year’s styles, there
are enchanting headdresses and
bouquets that any bride will de
light in selecting. Corsages of lilies,
fragrant camatidhs and roses with
rose geranium leaves as a back
ground are quaint looking. Carna
tions, used in modern scroll arrange
ments, make a bouquet that even
the most budget-minded bride can
afford.
Huge arm bouquets of fragrant
stoiik and snapdragons are lovely
for both the bride and her attend
ants in a garden wedding, and
these same flowers may be used to
fashion crown-like bonnets. Gladi
oli blossoms are another favorite
flower choice for outdoor weddings.
These flowers in white would be
lovely for the bride, while deep
shades of tangerine and fuchsia or
the more delicate coral pink will
blend beautifully with summer pas
tels.
Flowers sure to bring ohs and ahs
of admiration are parasols of deli
cately colored sweetpeas. Carried
in a garden wedding, tiny nosegays
of the same flowers should be re
served for the bridemaids. Bonnets
of blossoms are new, too. Carna
tion petals fashion them, with wide
brims of flattering tulle. A Mary
Queen*of-Scots bonnet might have
the heart-shaped brim outlined with
tiny sweetheart roses.
Garlands, rather than bouquets of
white blossoms, are another new
note in bridal flowers. Painted
daisies, cornflowers, blue iris or
bright pink carnations make en
chanting garlands for the attend
ants.
The bride who wears her going
away frock for the ceremony may
prefer a corsage to a hand bouquet.
Orchids, gardenias and sweetpeas in
modern scroll arrangement give a
luxurious note to an otherwise sim
pie costume. Tailored corsages,
tied with bows of green leaves, are
still another innovation for the In
formal wedding. Since the bride’s
mother shares the limelight with the
wedding party, her flowers are im
portant. The flattery of deep blue
iris would be lovely with any soft
toned frock.
As effective as heirloom lace is
the scalloped, hand-patterned lace
fabric used for the youthful bridal
dress pictured. Style-important fea
tures in the gown pictured are the
flattering round neck; the full puffed
sleeves; the quaint, fitted bodice
that buttons down the front, empha
sizing a snug waistline; and the full
skirt. The dress has a Jong train,
and because it is so beautifully pat
terned, the veil is a short one, edged
with a band of the same lace as
that in the skirt. The bride’s bou
quet is of roses and white snap
dragons.
Delicate pink sweetheart roses,
worn as a corsage, are matched by
wee roses. Outlining the Mary
Queen-of-Scots bonnet worn by the
bride’s attendant. The pale pink of
the blossoms contrasts beautifully
with the deep periwinkle blue of
her chiffon frock.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
White With Color I
White with a splash of daring
color is an important style message
for summer. The white flannel out
fit here pictured tallies perfectly
with this idea. The white skirt has
a red and white polka dot blouse,
topped with a white flannel jacket,
belted at the waistline. White pig
skin bag. doeskin gloves and chic
white hat complete the ensemble.
Alluring Veils
The National Geographic Society
says the women of America wear
more veils than the women of
Turkey. Easy to believe if you notice
the clouds of veiling—pink, white,
red, green, black and brown—which
will continue to soften the fashion
scene, right through summer.
The newest use for veils is to tie
them about the crowns on big
brimmed hats and let them drip
down the back.
Big brims are really big this sea
son, up to nine inches. Usually soft,
not stiff, in outline—made of rippled
black organza, champagne-colored
straw, chicken wire white straw,
and shirred red felt.
_
Telltale Sleeves
Sleeves are telltales this season
So complete has been the change in
sleeve treatments that they definitely
tell the newness of your dress, your
coat or blouse. The new silhouette
is achieved through deep armholes
and smooth shoulders.
In softly styled dresses of sum
mery silks and cottons the latest
news is short sleeves, mere shoulder
caps in many instances. In sleeves
that are longer there's fullness below
the elbow.
Color on Color
Very new is the color-on-color
treatment that designers are carry
ing out in summer sheers. The new
nylon sheers, especially, lend
themselves to this technique in that
they are thin almost to the point of
transparency. Black over pink is a
favorite combination, navy over red
is effective, and orchid over pink or
light blue is lovely for evening.
' rT
*: j
SEWDNG CDPC1LE J
8933
TP YOU’RE expecting a baby,
*■ make all your summer outfits
with this one easy pattern, includ
ing adjustable dress, and collar
less Jacket fulled onto a shallow
yoke. It will be so cool in soft
cottons or afternoon silks, even on
the hottest days, and will keep you
looking trim and smart through
out tiie entire period of ex
pectancy. The cost will be low*.
• • • i
Pattern No. 8933 is designed in even
sizes 14 to 43. Size 16. 6i'* yards 39-tfich
material. For this attractive pattern,
send your order to: , 4
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERN DEPt.
Room 1324
311 W. Wacker Dr. Chic age
Enclose 15 cents In coins for
Pattern No.Size...
Name .......•••4
Address ...i
Menthol* turn
win quickly
soothe the la
jury end pro
mote healing.
With Life, Woe
To labour is the lot of man be
low; and when Jove gave us life,
he gave us woe.—Homer.
INDIGESTION
may affect the Heart
Oaa trapped to the etoroach or fullat mar act Ilka a
bair-irlater on the heart. At the Brat aim of diitreat
amart man and woman depend on Bell-ana Tablet! to
tat tat fraa. No laxative bat made of the faetaat
•ctlnp medtrlnea hnown for acid indite It Ion. If tbe
FIRST DORK doetn't prove Bell-ana batter, ratam
bottle to tie and receive IXJUBLB Money Back. Me.
New Problems
You can never plan the future
by the past.—Burke.
Apply in Life
To live is not to learn, but to
apply.—Legouve.
BIG 11-OUNCE
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HIN
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Regular *1 size
limited time only —
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Nothing great is produced sud
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or fig is. If you say to me now
that you want a fig, I will answer
to you that it requires time; let it
flower first, then put forth fruit,
and then ripen.—Epictetus.
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it IAK FAST”
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^ ^T^HB PUBLIC nature of advertising bene
X fits everyone it touches. It benefit, the
public by describing exacdy the products that are offered. It
benefits employees, because the advertiser must be more fair
and just than the employer who has no obligation to the public.
These benefits of advertising are quite apart from the obvious
benefits which advertising confers—the lower prices, the higher
quality, the better service that go with advertised goods and firms.
