H. A. DeROSSO | |
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THE MAN FROM TEXAS
DEAD MAN'S CHOICE--
There were only two of them left. The other four men had tried to escape, and they were lying now in the bloody dirt in front of the cabin, their skulls blown away.
It was just Quinton and Dalhart.
Dalhart motioned for Quinton to go first.
Quinton hesitated. If he stayed, the blazing roof timbers would crash down on them in another moment. But if he went out, Dalhart would shoot him in the back while the riders on the ridge spilled him down from the front.
Quinton turned and braced himself. He crouched low, then sprang out the door.
And then the bullets began flying at him from every side...
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TRACKS IN THE SAND
When Sheppard saw Blackwell and the gun in his hand, the boy's face turned white. He swallowed with difficulty and began to tremble. "Where are you heading, kid?" Blackwell asked.
"Nowhere in particular. I'm just running...running away from you."
"Are you going to tell me the truth, kid?"
"I don't dare...he'd kill me if I did!"
"An' I'll kill you if you don't," Blackwell threatened.
"All right, you probably won't believe me but the man behind the murders is..."
At this instant, Sheppard's eyes looked past Blackwell and what the boy saw threw him into a frenzied horror.
The slug slammed young Sheppard backward. He hit the ground with a thud. Blackwell turned and the world seemed to rock around him. At the end of the junipers, smoking gun pointed menacingly at his stomach, stood the killer...
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