So that's troublin' you? I reckon it needn't. You see it was this way. I come round the house an' seen that fat party an' heard him talkin' loud. Then he seen me, an' very impolite goes straight for his gun. He oughtn't have tried to throw a gun on me - whatever his reason was. For that's meetin' me on my own grounds. I've seen runnin' molasses that was quicker'n him. Now I didn't know who he was, visitor or friend or relation of yours, though I seen he was a Mormon all over, an' I couldn't get serious about shootin'. So I winged him - put a bullet through his arm as he was pullin' at his gun. An' he droppped the gun there, an' a little blood. I told him he'd introduced himself sufficient, an' to please move out of my vicinity. An' went" - Lassiter
Zane GreyStichwörter: western
Keep a spur handy.
Meg MimsStichwörter: adventure action suspense historical western 1869 rr texan transcontinental
What's all the row over at Ben's?" [Mrs. Ide] inquired, placidly, from her comfortable chair.
"Rustlers, cattle, foremen, sheriffs, and Heaven only knows what," replied Hettie, distractedly.
You sold a story last week," said Pettit, "about a gun fight in an Arizona mining town in which the hero drew his Colt's .45 and shot seven bandits as fast as they came in the door. Now, if a six-shooter could—"
"Oh, well," said I, "that's different. Arizona is a long way from New York. I could have a man stabbed with a lariat or chased by a pair of chaparreras if I wanted to, and it wouldn't be noticed until the usual error-sharp from around McAdams Junction isolates the erratum and writes in to the papers about it." (from "The Plutonian Fire")
Use your head for something more than to give your hat a ride, can't you?
B.M. BowerFirst, the weather got hotter every day, and the hay press broke down every day. Second, the boss fell in love with Marian Wray, and the hay press broke down every day. Third, inside of forty-eight hours everybody on that crew hated everybody else, and the hay press broke down every day. Fourth, and most important of all, the hay press broke down every day.
Max BrandBy all the rules of modern fiction there should have been gunsmoke mingling its acrid blue with the brown haze of corral dust. Dead men should have fallen and been trampled...
Nothing of this sort happened.
Stichwörter: humor western fiction-writing
Son of a bitch!" Cash erupted. "He's wearing Nate's guns."
Reese had been too occupied gazing into those eyes to notice the oddity of a gun belt strapped around a naked waist. Cash was right. Those were Nate's pretty pearl pistols. Reese had never liked those guns. He liked them even less now.
"Sullivan, ask him where he got those," Cash demanded.
"What gave you the idea I can speak Comanche?" "Because you are one?"
"You're a jackass, but I don't expect you to talk to a donkey."
"This is no time to be funny, breed."
"Then quit trying so hard.
Stichwörter: western historical-romance rock-creek-six-series
The sun glanced off a long, wicked looking knife in the Comanche's grip. At least Cash wouldn't have long to mourn. The other Indians held similar weapons, but they hung back as their leader knelt next to Sullivan. He muttered something, low and guttural, a single syllable that sounded like an insult, then picked up a lock of Sullivan's hair.
The knife descended toward his scalp.
"No!" Reese shouted. "Me."
The Comanche paused and stared at him with a spark of interest, almost admiration. But that couldn't be since the Indian had no idea what Reese was saying. He continued to try anyway.
"Me first." He struggled, wishing he could use his hands to point at himself.
"Shut the hell up, Reese," Sullivan said.
"What possible difference does it make who they kill first?" "Who knows what might happen. While they're working on me, anyone could show up and save the rest of you."
"In that case, me first," Cash drawled. "Me."
"No. Yo primero!"
"Kid, I'm the only one without a wife and far too many children. No one would miss me."
"I would." The words were punctuated by the distinct sound of a rifle being cocked. All eyes turned toward the man who had appeared at the edge of the clearing.
Cash's sigh of relief was in direct contrast to the sneer in his voice. "About damn time, Rev. We've been waitin' on you.
Stichwörter: western historical-romance rock-creek-six-series
When I envied a man's spurs then they were indeed worth coveting.
Zane GreyStichwörter: humor envy western spurs
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