The Way of the West
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
An anthology of three novellas, by three of the best western writers of yesterday and today.
which one was the site of the disturbance. A buggy passed him and he waved at Harold Ringley headed for his bank. Ringley yelled that he thought the shooting came from the Longhorn Saloon; the banker made no attempt to slow down. Crossing the street strutted Xavier Anthony, dressed smartly as usual and as befitting the town’s tailor. Today, the vain, handsome man wore a black, three-piece broadcloth suit with a freshly pressed white shirt and a dark red ascot. His black hat was short-brimmed and
the gun from his pocket, not wanting to risk it getting hung up coming out. Raising his hands, Tatum snarled, “Nobody git stupid. Nobody move.” “Señor, you only have three bullets, si?” The Mexican grinned. Keeping his gun pointed at the wide-eyed Tatum’s nose, Dane stepped next to him and yanked the six-gun from its holster with his left hand. He cocked it and said, “Now how many bullets do I have? The rest of you, drop your guns. One at a time. We’ll start with you.” He pointed at the
swallowed and found his voice. “Judge, I think that’s a bit harsh. The gentleman was only trying to defend his boss against an attack from Dane.” Anthony looked only at Cross as he spoke. “I’ll not be a party to this.” “No worry, Xavier,” Cross’s voice boomed across the crowded room. “I’ll pay the fine.” He reached into his vest pocket, retrieved a twenty-dollar gold piece and tossed it toward Reicker. The coin bounced on the table and onto the floor, where it spun for a few seconds and
him. It was clear the mayor was coming to see him. “Herr Marshal Dane, a word please.” The gunsmith waved his arms and hurried to meet the concerned blacksmith in the middle of the street. Dane gradually stopped, glancing in the direction of the general store. A freight wagon lumbered past them and the driver swore his opinion of their being there. “I haff come from der council meeting,” Mikman declared breathlessly. “Dey vant du to be der marshal.” “I don’t understand. Did Xavier resign?”
stamped on the wrist and was answered by a scream of pain. At the same time a pair of arms closed heavily around his body. It would not be fair, of course, on a football field; but this was not a football field. Ingram snapped his fist home behind the ear of the assailant, and the arms which had pinned him relaxed. Others were coming at him, leaping, crowding one another so that their arms had no play; and, with his back to the cell door, which contained Moffet and his half dozen would-be