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He was just a no-account cowhand. Then they pinned a tin star on his chest and he was the law. They swore him in quicker than lightning and didn't expect him to live long enough to pocket his first pay. After all, what chance did a green-as-grass cowpoke have against the killer they called Tularosa? But now Frank Carrico was gunned for justice. And he was going to clean up South Fork with bullets and fists. Because the young lawman was crazy enough to try ... and good enough to succeed!
Cameron was his name. He looked like a lawman, he wore a tin badge, but the owl-hooters knew him as a bank robber who had turned traitor. And they set a trap to catch him with a band loaded with gold dust, a rangeland studded with blotched brands, and a scheme worthy of the wildcats that gave Cougar Hill its name. But Cameron had some cougar blood in his own veins, and desperation put a deadly edge to his trigger fangs.
Carr Lindon was one of five ranchers whose lands surrounded the prize bunchgrass that made up the big Government graze in the center of the valley. Pat Tyler, Lindon's closest fried and neighbor, was another. All made use of the lush bunchgrass and, together, enjoyed prosperity and peace ... until the day Tyler was accused of rustling stock. The only answer Carr could get from Pat was that he should watch out for Neil Griff, a newcomer to the valley. When Carr went to Sheriff Sim Nash to enlist his help in reasoning with Pat, he was curtly turned down. To prevent the other ranchers from hanging his best friend, Lindon was compelled to take the law into his own hands ...
The Conquistadors had called it the Devil's Highway. It was the highest, driest, meanest desert in northern Mexico, and Case Hardesty had to cross it on foot or die. Behind him were the outlaws he'd taken for $20,000, and behind them the lawmen who had sworn death to them all. In one hand he held a Winchester, and in the other a salt sack stuffed with enough bills to buy a ranch in Sonora--if he made it. Or a grave, if he didn't.
"Elevate! In the name of the state of Texas! Then answer was a wild yell and the gleam of gun barrels in the moonlight. The Ranger's hands flashed up and down. His first shot boomed before the outlaws could open fire. Then there was an explosion of noise and flame and smoke. The Ranger heard a choking grunt, a cry of pain and saw two men fall. His big Colts bucked in his hands and a third saddle was emptied. Now there was only one outlaw to be reckoned with--and Ranger Walt Slade knew he was finally face to face with the killer who left alive no man who stood in his way.
"What do you want?" they asked, the first time they shot at Walt Slade. "Fork your bronc, or die!" they warned, the second time they fired. The third time they said nothing. What do you say when you blast a Texas Ranger in the back. Outgunned and outnumbered, Slade tries to save a friend, a town, and himself, in a desperate duel with a dozen hired killers.
Skeleton Trail was lined with the corpses of countless peons, ranchers and lawmen who had died or vanished at the hands of Veck Sosna and his vicious Comancheros. Walt Slade found the trail and followed it into the dread Valley of Tears where Sosna and his killer gang holed up between the sudden, ruthless raids they made. Then Slade moved singlehanded into the valley where sudden death marked every step!
There was no celebrating in Saddlerock when Dan Ruick returned home again. Many stories had been told about his six killings. Maybe he had only killed with cause, but the townfolk didn't press their luck and steered clear of Dan's gun. This time Dan had come back to find a killer, not be one. But a bounty hunter was already on his tracks, with orders to shoot on sight!
The horse's hoofs rang loudly on the boards as the wagon rolled onto the bridge. Suddenly there was a loud crack, a shower of hot lead, then a grinding, splintering crash. In a matter of seconds the stream became a bloody turmoil of screaming horses and men! Again the vicious killers struck without warning and disappeared without a trace. They would stop at nothing to realize their mad dream of empire and untold wealth! To bring them to justice was Jim Hatfield's mission. And as the Texas Ranger set forth to find their hidden haunt he became a marked target of death!
The Slash K punchers slept soundly beside the chuck wagon. Suddenly--"lightning" flashed, "thunder" rolled and shrieking "rain" spattered the sleeping camp. But the lighting was the spurting flame from unseen rifles, the thunder was the crash of shots and the rain was a leaden rain of death! Again and again, the ruthless Mexican bandit, Pedro Cartina, and his raiders swooped won onto Lone Star soil and left a wake of robbery, arson and murder, until the Rio ran red with blood. Outnumbered 100 to 1, and with time running out on the men on the side of the law, Ranger Jim Hatfield plunged into savage pursuit of the border killers, to pit his guns and fists against the cruelest foe in Texas!
The air rocked to a crashing report ...Slade drew his guns with a blur of motion and whirled sideways to face the outlaws. Their guns were out and they were shooting with both hands. Bullets stormed past The Hawk, but his big Colts boomed again and again and again. Blood streamed down his face, his left sleeve was in ribbons. Slowly he lowered his guns and peered through the smoke fog at the two forms sprawled on the ground.
Driven off his ranch by a horde of hard-riding renegades, Grete Farraday would stop at nothing to get revenge. But he'd need help. That was where Sary Hollis came in. For a share of his spread, she'd lend him the use of her guns and men, low-down sidewinders all. Farraday didn't cotton to being partners with a woman ... but he'd join up with the devil himself if it would get his land back.
"He's a cold-blooded murderer behind his badge and we can't keep him around as town marshal." "You really think Mark has turned killer?" one of them asked. Rohle, who had appointed himself head of the group, said smoothly, "This last shooting proves it to me. The marshal gunned down an unarmed man. I think Mark is unbalanced. Killing sometimes gets to be a habit that can't be stopped. "We'll give Mark until sundown to turn in his badge and leave town. If he refuses, well--he'll get a taste of his own medicine."
Prologue Books presents: A Western thriller from Max Brand.In The Man from Mustang, Silvertip hunts a man whose face he's never seen . . . And whose name he doesn't know!"The explosion of the shot echoed through the saloon. The moment before, a gun had glinted in the night through an open window. Now Buck lay on the floor, fighting for his life, trying to raise himself on one hand trying to breathe. He reached up and caught Silvertip's hand. He tried to speak, but only red bubbles of blood burst on his lips."
Decket had a tiger by the tail when he arrested notorious killer Shotgun Travers. But Decket had asked for it. He had been wearing a U.S. marshal's badge when he was nothing of the sort. He was a small-town peace officer who had used the badge to his own ends, forcing bigger men than he to bend to his will. But now the tables had turned ...
A gun cracked! The lantern in the deserted mine was smashed to bits. Then Jim Silver's great voice boomed through the darkness, "Barry Christian, I've come for you!" Christian screamed, not like a man but like a tortured woman. He was sick with fear. Somewhere in the blackness his worst enemy--a deadly enemy--was moving closer ... closer ... Christian took out his knife and held it in front of him. Then suddenly a fist boomed against his jaw!
It was a one shot kill ...But it wasn't the man Silvertip meant to kill. It was just a kid wearing Bandini's cape. And while Silvertip wasn't denying he pulled the trigger, it was Bandini who set the youngster up, sending him out of the saloon to die like a dog. It should have been the back-shooting, throat-cutting Bandini who bled his life away into the dust of that dark alley. Before the young boy's corpse was cold, Silvertip made an oath. He'd track down the kid's kin. And whatever the youngster was supposed to do, he'd finish the job. Then he'd find Bandini and kill him proper. Though it was a crying shame you couldn't kill a man like Bandini more than once ...
Tom Derry owed Buck Rainey his life--twice over. When Rainey saved him from an angry bull, Tom thought that here was a good and brave man. When Rainey helped him fight some men who wanted his blood, Tome knew that if there was ever anything he could do for Buck, he'd do it gladly. Rainey knew this too. So he asked Tom to help get his friend Barry Christian out of jail--and out of a hanging. Tom figured that if Christian was Buck's friend, he couldn't be a murderer. And when Buck said the Jim Silver, the man who'd put Christian behind bars, was a lying, scheming killer, Tom had no reason to doubt him. So Tom helped Christian escape--and was repaid by being sent on a ride on Christian's horse, the horse whose trail Silver was tracking. When Silver caught up with him, Tom though that he was finished. But Jim Silver knew a decent man when he saw one, and let Derry go. It was then that Tom realized the truth: Christian was a killer, and if he had the chance, he would kill Silver. Tom knew he had to stop him somehow--even if it meant doublecrossing the man who had twice saved his life.
At last, Silvertip faces his bitterest enemy--in a final, deadly showdown! With his great stallion, Parade, and his ferocious wolf, Frosty, the legendary Silvertip brought many a desperado to justice. Yet the vicious outlaw Barry Christian escaped his grasp, until Silvertip tracked him down to the wild mountains around Blue Water. To even the score, Christian stole Silvertip's famous animals. Then he lured two of Silvertip's pards to his hideout in the valley. Now Silvertip will meet the scoundrel on his own turf--and settle their feud in a blaze of six-guns!
If the lynch mob didn't get him, a hanging judge would. Even though he was innocent! Matt Campion had come to Harmony to begin a new life as a rancher, only to find himself unjustly accused of murder. Now, even if he could escape from this jail cell ... he would have to outrun Albert Toon, the lawman they called "The Mantracker." He was a human bloodhound. And he'd follow Campion to the ends of the earth if he had to. Because the man Campion was accused of murdering was Albert Toon's brother.
There was room enough in the valley, but Ike Quarles didn't think so. Now he and his hired killers had served notice on Brad--drift or die! "I'm about through drifting," Brad said slowly. "I was thinking about taking up a homestead." Then he was silent, watching them sit their horses, waiting for the abrupt twitch of a hand--the sudden, lunging move that would explode this whole valley into murderous, bullet-screaming range war!
He was a tall son--taller than most men by a head, with a look of wildness in his battered, tough face. He was Tom Buchanan out of West Texas, who fought with joy and loved with gusto--who many times had gone to meet death without pause and with great good nature. This time he took on the whole of Agry County and the violent bandit clan that ran it. It was no fight of his--but a girl had been violated and a family's honor tarnished. So Buchanan settled his gunbelt and flexed his great hands and went surging into battle like a one-man troop of cavalry. And, by God, in the end there was left even to burn in Agrytown ...
"Trouble in El Paso--clear it up!" That was Slade's job--to find the man behind the rustling, the killings, the destruction that had both sides of the Rio Grande ready to explode. Slade opened the game by shooting two rustlers out of the saddles--and knew that from then on he was marked for death!
"It'll be a powerful big chore for one man to clean out that nest of cutthroat rattlesnakes!" But Jim McNelty, Captain of the Rangers, was sure that if any man could rid Texas of the vicious Rimrock Raiders, it was his ace lieutenant, Walt Slade. Little did he know, when he gave his orders, that he was sending Slade on his most perilous mission--to slip the loop on the leader of the outlaws, a man whose blur-fast draw and sharp wits had never been matched ...
These prayers are primarily intended to be used by a person who is ill. At the same time, those who visit and minister to the sick can find in them a expression of their sentiments which are sometimes difficult to reveal. Through these expressions of common faith, the patient and the visitor will extend the boundaries of their relationship, no matter how casual or intimate.
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