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Slocum's about to learn that sometimes, the best man for the job is a boy. If there’s anything worse than a dirty snake, it’s a cheap dirty snake. And Jack Mitcham is as cheap as they come. So when young Joshua Quaid and his brothers stood up to him in a bar one fateful day, Mitcham took Quaid’s two eldest brothers out with just one bullet. Saving on ammo, as Mitcham would say. The young Quaid isn’t the only one out to find Mitcham, though. The con man is also on Slocum’s hit list—exceptin’ he’s listed under one of a dozen aliases. And both Slocum and the boy are looking forward to a hefty reward, should they find him dead or alive. So, after a right impolite howdy-do—including bullets and some blood—the pair realize that two heads are better than one. But first, there are a few things Slocum needs to teach his greenhorn sidekick, like how to hold his liquor, woo a woman into bed—and find footprints in the snow…
Slocum’s on the trail of a different kind of quarry—a wayward husband. After road agents stole the supply wagon train Slocum was riding shotgun on, he tracks the gang to the booming mining town of Orofino, Idaho. There, he makes the acquaintance of Jane Carson, a bartender whose ability at stirring drinks pales in comparison to her ability to stir the fire in men’s souls. Jane wouldn’t be tending bar if it hadn’t been for the husband who abandoned her. She trailed him to Orofino, and now needs Slocum’s help in finding out whether he’s dead or alive. But when the road agents attempt to kill both of them, Slocum suspects Jane knows more than she’s telling about this gang…
Far Eye Abernathy may have a gift for guns…but he doesn’t have a shot against Slocum. With his dying words, a sheriff tells Slocum to find the men who shot him. Though he’s never been too partial to the law, Slocum accepts the mission—and even the deputy’s badge that goes with it. Finding the bad men in Spencer Flats, Slocum takes stock of the situation. Rob Bensonn is a mean, nasty killer—but Slocum’s dealt with characters like him before. What he’s never seen before is a man with the shooting skills of Far Eye Abernathy. Going up against Far Eye won’t be easy…and the third man in that rag tag gang may be even worse.
Slocum’s invited to attend a funeral—his own. John Slocum was given two hundred dollars and a ticket to Cheyenne, Wyoming with the promise of employment, but not told what kind of services he’d be rendering. On board the train, he’s forced to defend himself against a badman who’s clothed like an undertaker—and lucky that Slocum didn’t put him six feet under. Slocum’s assailant is just one of several gunfighters cryptically known as the Undertakers, who leave their victims flat on their backs with their arms crossed over their chests as if they’re lying in coffins, and plant crude grave marker crosses behind their heads. They’re working for a greedy rancher looking to enlarge his spread over the land belonging to Miss Clarissa Montcalm. But now the Undertakers face the Angel of Death known as Slocum…
Slocum blazes through Devil’s Mouth to nail his saddle partner’s killer! Slocum last heard of Matt Scoggins when he’d been onto a rich gold strike—but then he vanished without a trace. Now, Slocum gets some unwelcome news about his old partner from a lovely Russian duchess of many talents—and many lies. Slocum has been shot at and almost left for dead in a pit. But when he looks for answers, he’s told to mind his business—like he’s just some drifter who happened along. But ignoring him and his six-shooter can be a fatal decision. Something very big is at stake here, and until Slocum gets the truth—there won’t be any peace for anyone.
A simple case of self-defense turns Clint Adams into a wanted man. Peace-loving Waylon City would rather hang a man than waste time on a trial. That means the Gunsmith is on the run until he clears his name--or taking a long drop from a short rope. Original.
Longarm GIANT novels…the biggest and best in Western adventure! U.S. Marshal Custis Long realizes better than anyone how the newspapers play with the truth. He knows for a fact that Clay Allison’s surly hide was laid under the sod for good. But he can’t prove it. Never exactly an outlaw, Allison was inclined to kill people when he drank—and he drank a lot. But now, tales of Clay Allison keep coming along the news wire out of Texas. Someone who looks, talks, dresses—and kills—like the late shootist is on a murder spree. Longarm can’t believe that a homicidal drunk has come blazing back to life from out of the grave. But he has to look into it—especially since a Texas Ranger has been gunned down. If it turns out that he was wrong about Allison’s demise, Longarm will admit it—and then correct his mistake.