Tom Sheehan

Only two times had Zack Harbolt seen his son in this life … at birth, when the new father abruptly rode off on another cattle drive north, and 10 years later when he rode back into Texas and watched the boy from a distance riding his mount, a pretty paint that had a bunch of ginger in him. The boy did well on the horse, which was enough for Harbolt to turn and ride away again, satisfied that the youngster showed gumption and a natural ability on a horse.

Tom Sheehan

The town drunk, Ernie Howard, earning his single drinks on single errands, stumbled into Puma City’s Horned Bat Saloon and yelled at bartender Max Stonewalk, “I got another telegraph here for Sheriff Ringwald, Max, and he ain’t at the jail. You gotta pay me.” Howard dropped the telegraph message on the counter and a shot of whiskey was put into his hands. He dipped once, gulped the whole shot, nodded, and ran out of the saloon.

(or the Sailor Goes Horseback)
Tom Sheehan

Raven Narbaught received the letter at Boston’s Charlestown Navy Yard when his ship landed on the 8th day of December in 1879. He’d been a sailor attached to or on the USS Alliance, a screw gunboat, since it was launched four years earlier at Norfolk Navy Yard, and had not heard a word for close to two years from his parents or any of his siblings.

Tom Sheehan

He rode into town unannounced, did not appear furtive or too inquisitive for he asked no questions of anyone, and tended to whatever business was his own, which was unknown to all of Cedar City. He had a drink at the saloon, a quick meal at Sally Fry’s Fried-to-Death Café of Sorts and finagled a sleeping spot in the loft of the livery, not a new thing in itself because others had managed the same deal with Everett Westcott, the livery owner.

Tom Sheehan

He’d been up in the Tetons for almost a year looking for his daughter Mercy. The near 11-year-old was grabbed right out of the south pasture by an Indian seen by a drummer who’d been on the town road. As Jackson Dorny searched an odd section of the range, tried to sleep, lit a fire for coffee as soon as the sun absorbed the firelight, he could hear the parting words to his wife, “Pearl, I won’t come home until I find Mercy and bring her back.

Tom Sheehan

Rockland Guidry was never addressed, from the time he was 12 years old, as Rockland. "Rocky" he was from his first encounter in a harsh world, and so they remained, Rocky his name and the harsh world around him. He'd never known a true home and this place he was studying after a long ride looked as though it would prove to be the place to tie his horse, drop his hat and rest his bones ... for a spell, if not longer.

Tom Sheehan

Silence but moments earlier had entered the room like an invisible cloud, and Palmer Brooksby looked again at the young gunman in the corner of the saloon, Bridgie Alcott, a nice enough kid with two pistols in hand, a wild and demonic look on his face, and one man dead at his feet.

Tom Sheehan

"What are you gonna do for the rest of your life, Luke? What are you lookin' for?" Jed Calvern was sitting on the seat of the hay wagon and getting as much free sun as he could while looking around at the horizon, the peaks and valleys and the wide grass of West Texas, as though in complete wonderment of all things, including his best pal, Luke Newton, just about to pitch the last forkful of the day up on the wagon.