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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.
They sent Sergeant Gorse back--lashed aboard his own mount. They bay carried him--upright and staring--across the parched, hostile wasteland to the very gates of Fort Bellew. He had six arrows in his back. They had slit him open from neck to thigh, filled him with a stinking, unspeakable mess, and sewed him back together with gut. This was the savage challenge of Asesino, warrior chief of the Chiricahuas. Before the sun rose again the gates of Fort Bellew would swing open and its men would ride out after Asesino--down the trail that led to glory--or death!
He was in a tight spot. He knew he couldn't stand off the Law and Breen, too. The Law was after him for the murder of a marshal--a murder he didn't commit. Breen was after him for revenge--and Breen wouldn't stop at anything ... blackmail, a frame-up ... or murder. He was desperate now and vowed to find a way out--or make one.
The armed deputy prodded Buchanan out of the cell. "We're taking care of scudders like you who try to buck the law. We're putting you on trial. A judge, a jury, the whole shebang." And the whole shebang was a frame-up. The self-appointed judge was a madman, part-time sadistic sheriff and part-time lunatic preacher. And the jury he'd appointed was made up of doddering old men either too drunk or too deaf to hear the "evidence." "You know what the jury's going to do to you?" the deputy sneered at Buchanan. "That jury is going to hang you. Hang you by the neck."
They were laying for Clay Belden when he came out of the pass into the Wildhorse Valley. He didn't see them. He didn't know they'd be there. He didn't think they would remember him. But they were waiting, with their rifles neatly trained from the rocks, and their fingers tight on the triggers. The first shot was a warning. The second sent Clay rolling on the ground looking for cover. The third shot was Clay's. And though he never saw at whom he was shooting, he knew then it was to be war to the finish. War between one lone drifter who didn't know his enemies--and a raft of sharp-eyed triggermen who kept his features neatly framed in the long-range sights of their saddle-guns.
The murder of his father had brought a cold violent anger to Matt that time had turned to ice but had not diminished. Eyes slanted sideways, the clerk said to Matt, "Some say Jake Dill done it. Some say Cole Pitman." "People talk too much," Matt said. "It's up to the law to handle it." The clerk gave Matt a sour grin. "Law? Who's the law in Gaptown?" Matt stepped back, his eyes ice-cols. "I am," he said. "I am now."
It was hell with the hide off ... But Dave Yeamans had asked for it. His very first day as top kick of the Double-W he had to take on Shorty Ganoe in a bloody fight men were to remember for years. Next day he had a gang of them to take on in a blazing gunfight that was to set fire to the whole valley. Dave was going to stick it out. Until now he had always been an outlier, a lone wolf who wouldn't stay with the pack. Now he had something to fight for. Every day the going got rougher but Dave got ornerier and ornerier. He was staying on as Double-W's top man and he was going to lick hell out of the whole bunch.
Grete Marratt, a rising young rancher, sat stone-faced and tight-lipped when the judge asked him why he had cold-bloodedly shot and killed Deputy U.S. Marshal Hugh Clagg. With nothing to say in his own defense, he was declared guilty of murder and was sent to Yuma for life. Somehow Marratt managed to escape, and four days later, stumbled into the town of Bella Loma. There he was mistaken for the scorned and long-departed Luke Usher, a man who had suddenly disappeared years before after his father was mysteriously murdered. Marratt wondered what had scared Usher away from his large inheritance, but he gladly stepped into the vanished man's boots.
"Did you get the gun?" Reno demanded. The girl shook her head. He snarled and flung the empty bottle against the cabin wall. Linda stood without moving, her soft mouth parted, her dark eyes fixed on his, the color rising in her face. She seemed to be touched with a tawny glow. Reno stared at her in amazement, and the fires of an awakened hunger swept over him. He reached for her and as their lips met she uttered a strange little cry--half sob, half animal whimper. Then suddenly she pushed him away. "You area a 'bad lot.'" Reno grinned. "I was never anything else. Now. Go get me that gun!" "And if I don't?" He gazed at her, his eyes mocking. "You will," he assured her softly. "You will."
Bella was quite a town, a free-wheeling, lusty young hell, the kind of town Tom Buchanan pleasured in. But then it turned ugly and made the mistake of angering Buchanan--and when the smoke cleared away there was nothing much left but wholesale mourning.
Malvaise narrowed his eyes. "So you think you're the man to take on the job of getting rid of me and my boys, do you?" he said to Buchanan. "I never saw a fast gun yet that didn't meet up with a faster one." "Amen, brother," Buchanan agreed. "And you know what you're bucking here in Pasco County, don't you?" "Me," Buchanan said, "I ain't bucking nobody." "Then ride out fast," Malvaise told him. "Ride now!" But Buchanan didn't like being told what to do. Not in that tone of voice. Buchanan stayed. Until the last bloody patch of desert had dried.
[from inside flaps] "Step into the Dogwood Junior High School cafeteria. Tonight, this one night of the year, it isn't a cafeteria at all. It's the Stardust Dance. And there are stories here. Mason Hatfield and Carrie Marie Jorgensen can't summon the courage to ask each other to dance. Becca Scott has locked herself in a bathroom stall after something unthinkable has happened with her boyfriend. Cub Tanner is struggling with the feelings he has for Trent Davis. Peggy Lee Dixon has grown up with Tennessee Jones--can she ever see him as more than a friend? The doors are opening. The candles are lit. There is glitter everywhere. Hurry, it's about to begin. " Ages 12 and up
They said in Texas that Tom Buchanan ate wildcat for breakfast and that he was slow to anger--like a rattler dozing in the desert sun. But now every saloon and dance hall had heard the news: Buchanan was cleaning his guns. The genial giant of a man had sworn to kill the outlaws who had shot his best friend in the back. Old timers shook their heads. It wasn't going to be a fair fight, they said. The odds were only three to one.
Dan Ricker didn't have a badge. He didn't ask to be a lawman. But he owed his life to Marshall Burke--and when Burke died while taking killer Jack Gorman to jail, Ricker knew he had to take over the job. The trail led through treacherous Comanche territory--where Ricker picked up the added burden of a girl whose father had been murdered by the Indians. Even worse, it had to pass close to the Gorman ranch, where Jack's vicious, vengeance-hungry kin waited in ambush. The Gormans had everything, including geography, in their favor--and it would take wits as well as raw courage to win through. And even when Ricker and his prisoner reached the apparent safety of town, jail, and civilized law, there was one final enemy to face ... and one final showdown.
A regiment was needed but they sent only one man, Hugh Kinzie, scout for the United States Army. Hugh saddled his dun and rode west. He found the party of men and women ambushed by Red Sleeves, the maniacal chief who hated the white man more than he feared death itself.Hugh counted on one thing to get them out--his old, battered, still-deadly rifle.
"Bloody Khuyper" they called the captain who ruled the Union Army's prisoner-of-war camp in the west. And no Johnny Reb hated the man more than Sabin Shay of Texas.Then word came that Khuyper was to command an expedition against the hostile Indians. Sabin Shay saw his chance. He disavowed the Confederacy, swore allegiance to the Union and volunteered to fight Indians as a "Galvanized Yankee."He did it knowing that Khuyper would make his life hell on the trail, knew that his name would come up for every suicide patrol. But he also knew that somewhere along the way he and Khuyper would stand over drawn guns--man to man!
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