What I love about this issue of SHORT STORIES is it includes a full-page map of the world, pointing out where each enclosed story takes place. It’s a fairly cool concept, especially for those that are geographically challenged.
The cover art is by Frank Spradling, featuring a RCMP man looking out over a bluff or cliffside with binoculars and rifle, his horse behind him. No such scene appears within the lead tale.
This issue begins with a murder-mystery novella by Hugh Jeffries, simply titled The Trained Cow Kills. The tale spans pages 10 to 62. It’s a Royal Canadian Mounted tale, which is honestly one of my favorite genres. I’d no clue who the author was until this point but learned the name is an alias for Geoffrey Hewelcke, a newspaperman from Regina, Canada. He also wrote fiction under his own name for the pulps. Oddly, despite his clear capacity for churning out a decent novella here, he didn’t supply many pulp fiction stories over the life of his career. Only 12 tales in 17 years. He also supplied numerous articles to a wide-variety of slick magazines and newspapers (naturally).
Illustrated by Peter Kuhlhoff, aged RCMP corporal Bob Bartlett enters the workplace in the dark and stumbles up against a bloodied corpse resting on the table. Angered that the young RCMP man must have deposited the cadaver and departed without getting word to him first, he investigates the body for clues. The face is literally stomped in, clearly by a large animal. Cow, in this case. Hence the title of the story. Cause of death is not the obvious stomping. Bartlett discovers a bullet wound ended his life. Covering up the discovery, he is soon met by his inept young RCMP man Harrison. He enters with Doctor Dave Spratt and a ranchman, Lafe Ambrose. The pair explain that the dead man was assisting in a round up, and when they went to search for him, found him on the ground, face bludgeoned by a cow. Bartlett instructs the doctor to make his examination and secretly tells him of his own findings. The young man and Lafe are firmly certain the cow killed him, but the doctor returns and asserts that a bullet killed him. Unfortunately, the bullet also passed through the man and is missing. So, we are less one clue.
The story goes that Bartlett rides back to the ranch and meets with your usual cliché odd assortment of possible killers: aged ranch owner, his niece and heir to a fortune, her young lover, a brother and sister from England, others learning how to be cowhands (which is an outright joke), a pompous writer, couple Indians, a cook, and other characters. The dead man was the young girl’s suitor. She didn’t like him one bit, but he was a drunkard, a gambler, a cheat, and many other things. Still, murder is murder, and Bartlett tries to unravel the crime, despite his young constable constantly undermining his authority and inferences of ineptitude for failing to arrest the obvious culprit with motive, the niece’s lover. He had threatened the dead man with violence, rode the cow roundup, and was known to have been foolishly firing off rounds. His gun is found hidden away and shortly after, he and Lafe Ambrose ride away to hide in the wilderness. Bartlett sees it all as a diversion, and when further attempts at murder proceed without the pair present, Bartlett begins to let the pieces jigsaw into place. No cow killed the man, nor did any live cow ever stomp on him. Turns out he was indeed shot and killed, intentionally. Retrieved bones from a long-dead cow were obtained and used repeatedly to bash in his face to hide the bullet wound. Turns out the guilty party (parties) are the brother and sister, who turn out to be the niece’s cousins. Only, the sister wasn’t party to the killing, and discovers her brother with the assistance of one of the unscrupulous Indians committed the crime, along with attempted murders. The brother was forced to work with the Indian after that latter discovered the crime, and both got along well until the brother rubs out the Indian to remove the blackmailer. He then must kill the niece, Bartlett, and his own sister, but they are saved by her lover returning with Lafe Ambrose in the night, after Bartlett sent the cook out to send word to them, knowing she knew precisely where they were hiding. My plot synopsis does this story zero justice. It was a fun read, and I’d love to read his other fiction efforts.
It’s followed by Justice by H. Bedford-Jones, with his recurring character Denis Burke, soldier of fortune. Well, he’s hardly a soldier. Least, maybe not a good one. He’s an American in Morocco, offered a propaganda assignment, which he turns down. Captain Crepin of local intelligence raids the establishment, certain he has this time caught Burke red-handed, but is forced to relinquish Burke due to lack of evidence. Burke is then involved in a murder which seems to point to him, but evidence only proves that he battered a man after he attempted to kill Burke. During court, a young woman steps forward, informs Crepin and the court that her lover is the murderer, after Burke had revealed to her that the man was entangled with another woman, and clearly only out to get her fortune. The story is illustrated, but the signature is tough to decipher…”Heve” is what it resembles. Any clues?
Page 73 launches Red Star Box by Karl Detzer. If you are a fan of fireman stories, this is for you. It’s just not my meat. A simple tale. Captain Denny Brady despises politics entangled with his job and bungles a fire call as a result. He’s disciplined with warning, and on his final day, a terrible chemical fire erupts. He must work with the man he despises most, a young man with ties to money and politics whom he’s certain is only interested in being a fireman to establish his political aspirations via his alderman relative. But when both are stuck in a blaze together, Brady becomes blinded by the eruption, and the young man crippled about the legs, the cripple leads the blind out while instructing him where to aim his hose. Eventually they are rescued by both men’s crews.
Harry Sinclair Drago’s Nailed Down rips into Page 82 with a two-page spread illustration by Peter Kuhlhoff. This tale is reportedly earlier collected in The Wild Bunch and Other Stories by Harry Sinclair Drago in 1925 via Doubleday. Outlaw Doc Munday and his crew rob a bank, ride fast from town, hit a small ranch to steal fresh horses, only for the lead outlaw to discover the man running the ranch was once one of his own riders! He had saved the outlaw’s life years ago, and he never forgets a debt. So when he discovers the rancher’s wife is due to give birth, he reassumes his previous life’s occupation as a doctor, and delivers the baby himself. Munday sends his men onward, but they foolishly wait for their leader and are caught by the posse. Some die, others are captured. They are brought back to the ranch, where the sheriff talks to the ranchman, knowing full well he was a member of the outlaws. They leave, and Munday leaves the bank money in the barn, and rides to rescue his surviving men. He fails. He is shot dead. Now our newly-made father must decide between returning the bank money or not. He decides to remain straight, so that his newborn son will not trod the path he poorly chose years ago. It’s actually a damn good story and its origin deserves to be properly traced. Syracuse University holds his collection of manuscripts, so it’s possible they might know the true source. It later became an episode on the television series Studio 57 in 1955. The outlaw leader Doc Munday is played by one of my favorite cowboy villains, Dan Duryea.
Harold de Polo’s short story Dance, Jack, Dance! is a mobster-esque tale. The lead is Jack Mahoney, returning to New York City via the central terminal with his girlfriend and to-be wife. He’s spotted by a rival gang member and the pair flee but fail, forced to march ahead of gunman with a gat pointed at their back. The escape into a dance-hall competition, where the top prize is two grand. Ironically, that’s precisely the amount Mahoney hosed the gangster out of one he arrived driving a truck to a job. The pair enter and sign up to dance, while the gangster saunters in and threatens to kill him. Noting the prize, the gangster threateningly encourages them to dance or die! They eventually survive four days of continuous dancing and win. Mahoney hands over the money, but to their surprise, he hands them a half grand. He had placed a bet on their winning (surviving) and calls the death-debt off, because he got back his lost funds and earned a bunch extra. He splits his betted winnings with Mahoney!
Eustace L. Adams supplies a fictionalized account of a true story regarding the ill-fated U. S. S. Diego, which was sunk by a torpedo. The protagonist is flying over the waters searching for the German sub, as the title goes, Willing To Die–But Hating the Idea. Irony is no torpedo did in the ship. Research later shows it was likely done with by mines left behind by the Germans, and in modern history (real life) is a favorite diving attraction for scuba divers. Reportedly more have died diving to the wreck than died during its sinking.
Hugh B. Cave supplies Pawn of Circumstance. Purdy Mitchell accidentally remains on an island and is stuck there as a penniless beachcomber looking to escape his circumstances when he witnesses a murder. A yachtsman is murdered, knifed, and abandoned where he died. Mitchell investigates, steals what little cash there is and departs. Obtaining edibles at a local eatery, the Oriental proprietor seeks to employ him for quick cash: kill the yachtsman! Mitchell could accept the assignment and claim to killed the dead man but is repulsed. Seeking to leave, his sixth sense warns him…just as the Oriental hurls a knife at his back. Mitchell ducks and the blade sinks deep into a British soldier walking in, killing him. The Oriental flees as does Mitchell, realizing if he remains on the scene that he may be blamed for the killing. Returning to the boat, he finds a locked box and realizes it must contain something valuable, when the real killers reappear, steal aboard, toss the lines, and make for open waters. They are nonplussed to discover the box is missing. Plus, the dead man is no longer on deck! He’s down below, sitting upright, and moaning! Mitchell had snuck out of his hiding place and moved the corpse, trying to trick all three to go below. Two go, and he secures the hatch, and does battle with the third man. He wins, but a vicious ocean storm kicks up, and he can’t handle the boat. He’s forced to release the third man, who knows they’ll all die if the sails aren’t secured, etc. While doing so, he releases his cohorts and Mitchell finds himself doing battle against three men. He prevails with wondrous aid of a storm that takes out his assailants. The box? It contains a pearl necklace for the dead man’s lover and a note to her. Mitchell decides to forward the items, along with a note of his own, informing that he died at the hands of his shipmates.
The next entry I skipped because is a serial, the conclusion to Raymond A. Berry’s The Cattle King of Little Egypt. There’s no reason to read part of a story when I lack the other parts, with apologies to Mr. Berry.
Big Ben by Henry G. Lamond is an animal story about a crocodile, it’s life, and eventual capture by man, to be featured in a circus as an attraction.
This magazine comes full circle with another excellent murder-mystery in the form of Robert E. Pinkerton’s They Come in Threes. The Minerva sinks at sea shortly after one aboard is murdered; the survivors scramble onto a lifeboat. It’s possible the killer went down with the ship, but when another member of the party is slain where he sleeps upon the isolated uninhabited island, it’s readily agreed that a madman is among them. One foolishly states that murders always occur in threes. So, who is it? Turns out naturally to be the least likely person, a portly Jewish man whom has been for a year globetrotting in hunt of the man who killed his brother. Finding him aboard the boat, he kills him, only to discover when beached ashore that he had partners traveling with him. A seemingly simple murder story, but it isn’t. It’s got human interest. For example, seaman Carl Iversen is facially scarred beyond any semblance of beauty, but good looks he once had, along with college learning and a beautiful girlfriend, but life played an ugly trick on him when gasoline fired his features. A Hollywood actress, renown for her looks, happens to be a survivor. Sea water, blistering sun, and no food or water demolishes her features beyond recognition, scarring her too. They become an unlikely pairing, but she clings to Carl as the most decent person present, besides the “chink” who turns out to be a complete gentleman, a damned good (cliché again) cook capable of scraping food together on the island and he will protect the girl with his life. Why? Because she is his wife’s and child’s favorite actress! So we know Carl, Dela Delos (actress), the third officer Harry Goodnow (who takes charge), and the China man Fu Ling are in the clear. The rest? Oh boy. What a grouping. Fu Ling accuses Potter of murdering an elderly woman from surviving the climb off the lifeboat to the beach, having witnessed the slimy move. Potter beats him up, Carl jumps Potter, but that latter wins. Carl threatens to silence Potter’s mouth, and next day, he’s found dead, Carl’s long knife firmly planted in Potter. Carl is the likely slayer, but Dela Delos had her hands firmly about Carl for security and knew he never moved. Fu Ling is missing. He finally arrives, casually making his way toward the group from afar, with food. He is cool to the fact Potter is at his feet, knifed and proclaims that Potter was already dead BEFORE he left camp! He hammers out a sheet of metal from the broken lifeboat and makes meals…that same jagged piece of steel is used to murder the third man. After they both die, Manny Blatz announces he isn’t really Manny, but really Max Blumenfeld, delicatessen owner, brother to slain Sam Blumenfeld. He surrenders to Bradford, who earlier announced he was a San Francisco copy. Bradford sluffs off his duty and states that he’s outside his jurisdiction. They are eventually rescued and invited to eat dinner at Fu Ling’s home. Afterwards, Carl insists Dela Delos not give up on acting. She says fine, let’s go find a doctor to fix her face like they did for Jack Dempsey’s nose. It ends on that note, leaving us to wonder if they do go find a doctor or accept reality. I suspect the latter, as they saunter down the street, and Carl mumbles: “Tomorrow,” he said humbly. Goes not every story has a happy ending. The pair likely end up together, two scarred people.
That’s the last story, but not the end of the magazine. Just as Adventure magazine has its Campfire section, Short Stories has The Story Tellers’ Circle. This one features a letter from Hugh Jeffries, answering questions put forth by the editor to introduce himself to readers, how he comes about his sources, and how does he know the RCMP so intimately. The answering letter is full of wonderful data, and I have included it in full below:
