Western liberal. (Lordsburg, N.M.) 1887-1919, 1914-09-18
Greeting Gun
Handler
With a Surprise All Around
BY VINcIE E. ROE
Copyright by Frank A. Munsey Co.

5N1E W01 ARkaAE &NE
shoddy old coach numbered along.
But that It was making its last pa-
thetic stand was equally plain in the
dotting homesteads, in the telephone
line that had timidly followed the bold
old road Of the stage Line for many
miles.
A woman and three men rocked and
bumped on the shabby seats inside.
and the driver, a weathered old timer,
who handled his four lines with the
dizziness Of lifelong habit, swayed on
the boot straight as an Indian, in his
blue flannel shirt.
The woman was slim and handsome,
about thirty years of age, clad in the
last word of urban ~taste-the east by
every sign and token.
And yet she bore one earmark Of the
west-she travelled light"
Only one small alligator bag was to
her credit amid the Luggage.
OF the other passengers one was
patiently a travelling man. a happer
young man OF the new west; one was
a rancher, middle aged and calm. and
one was that motley offspring Of the
old and the new. an irresponsible by
brid. taking the worst strains Of both
parents. He was neither a cowboy. a
miner nor a raneher: neither a farmer.
a promoter o a business man, and
yet he partook q little of all.
He was loud voiced, with the over
drawn vocabulary Of story book wild
westerners. His clothes were as mot
ley as himself-a sombrero, a light fan
mel shirt exaggeratedly open necked,
broadcloth trousers, patent leather
shoes and a cartridge belt from whose
two holsters glowered the black butts
Of a couple OF guns.
He monopolized the conversation and
cast bold glances at the young woman.
"Yes," he said loudly, "the west
haln't what It usta be. It's ben over
with these here d. Easterns."
"Tve met a few of EN-" said the
rancher quietly. IAN rye noticed that
most Of 'em make it a pint not to cuss
before ladies-specially when that same
is shet up in a stage with the cusser
an can't help themselves"
The woman shot- the interTupter a
grateful glance which struggled with
a smile for mastery.
Hey" said the bully, "meanin'
me2"
The rancher looked calmly out at the
dropping hills, clad In their noble vest
ments Of constantly heightening pines.
"Shoe pinch?" he asked Of the seen
cry.
The other studied him a moment in
suspicious perplexity.
"Old man." he said largely, "a few
years back you'd "a got plugged fer
that"
Maybe. But the west has changed
also It's men"
The woman could not repress the
smile that twltched her handsome
mouth, and she gazed out Of the win
dow at the beautiful road winding and
climbing among the lodges.
The dapper travelling man 1dgeted
~uneasily, edging away from the blatant
black guns.
The owner saw the signs of the ten
derfOot and mistook the woman's abb
sorbed study of the landscape for the
fear of himself he loved to lnstill.
Therefore he talked with heightened
vigor.
"Yes, sir, the west hain't what it
was. Why, they's been a horse thief
rustlin' up on Sleepy Fork fer months.
an they hain't men enough in the
country to ketch him-an' string him
up"
He glanced ut the woman. expecting
a shiver Of horror. He thought he saw
1t and pressed his line of talk.
give. yes, three years back he'd "a
BEN in hin heaven by now. An
~hfteen-why. ef he'd a ben tryin' his
doin's in Big Bill Daily's time he'd
"a furnished sport fer the countryside.
Now. there was q man! know the
time he rode into Circle and shot three
Of the Burgess gang all by his lone
some. He was a gun mar rightF'
The trim shoulders in the blue trav-
cling suit shivered perceptibly, and the
red lips of the woman dropped from
their amused smile.
The bully went on d~elightedly:
"Hain't many OF us left Of the old
gun handlers. / know when Big Bill
trimmed a Johnny Bastern's new SOM
brero into a lacework fringe on his
head. Gee! Them was days! Hain't
but a few Of US left"
The travelling man was gnawing his
small mustache. and the fingers OF his
immaculate hands were gripped tight
together.
The rancher's kindly eyes took in the
pain in the woman's face.
mo" he said. ''they haln't any left"
"Oh. l don't know" said the other
In exaggerated Oefhandedness. hitch
ing his holsters a bit to the fore. mo,
l don't know. I'm goin' up on Sleepy
Fork right now"
1.-THE men Of the old days shot," he
said with contemptuous sarcasm; "they
didn't talk. It's the mark Of the new
west-these takers like
8 Tho aantnnco xvna navar dniahad