By Dave P. Fisher

“The man at the livery told me you were hiring, I need a job.”

The unexpected voice broke Duncan Wells out of his thoughts.  He turned around expecting to be looking at eye level with a man; instead he had to look down at the boy standing in front of him.  He took in the cut of the boy; he was big for his age with a wild tangle of black hair matching his steady black eyes.  He was impressed that the boy would look him in the eye, but he needed men – not boys.

“Sorry son, I need a couple of men who know cattle.”

By Dave P. Fisher

It had been a hard winter. Mort Seever sat at the little table and ran the stub of his pencil down the line of figures.  The oil lamp laid the pencil’s shadow across the paper in a way that emphasized the dark reality of the numbers.   He tapped the pencil tip on the paper and sighed deeply.

By Terry Burns

The jail in Lincoln County New Mexico was on the second floor above the Sheriff’s office.  I had been given the opportunity to talk to one of the most famous killers in history, Billy the Kid.  I admit it, as I ascended the stairs I was thinking national exposure, in spite of the fact that normally I do articles for newspapers back east and the occasional dime novel.  With the kid set to hang the following morning, this was sure to be his last interview . . . and my big break.

By Dave P. Fisher

The man stood alone at the end of the bar, his boot on the brass rail while his elbows rested on the polished hardwood, and between his hands was a beer mug. He stared absently into the amber liquid that filled the bottom half of the mug and the white foam still clinging to the upper. He was lost in thought, of which there was over half a century of its accumulation behind him.

A Rope and Wire P.D. Classic
By Andy Adams

1859-1935

Early in the summer of '78 we were rocking along with a herd of Laurel Leaf cattle, going up the old Chisholm trail in the Indian Territory. The cattle were in charge of Ike Inks as foreman, and had been sold for delivery somewhere in the Strip.

A Rope And Wire "P.D.Classic"
By Andy Adams

1859-1935

The evening before the Cherokee Strip was thrown open for settlement, a number of old timers met in the little town of Hennessey, Oklahoma.
On the next day the Strip would pass from us and our employers, the cowmen. Some of the boys had spent from five to fifteen years on this range. But we realized that we had come to the parting of the ways.

A Rope and Wire "P.D.
Classic"By Andy Adams

1859-1935

There was a painting at the World's Fair at Chicago named "The Reply," in which the lines of two contending armies were distinctly outlined.
One of these armies had demanded the surrender of the other. The reply was being written by a little fellow, surrounded by grim veterans of war.

A Rope and Wire "P D Classic"
By Andy Adam

1859-1935

Along in the 80's there occurred a question of possession in regard to a brand of horses, numbering nearly two hundred head. Courts had
figured in former matters, but at this time they were not appealed to, owing to the circumstances.

By Tom Sheehan

The name stuck. It was that simple.

The slim, black-clad stranger was thereafter referred to as Snake. Not a soul in town used his real name, Thomas Pitchpen, once of Tennessee, but, for all that matter, the town of Asheville, Utah was looking for a killer, a hired gun if they could get him for free, to stand up to the sly, devious, and artful gun-hand who came to town every so often and often tore it apart with death at the end of a challenge.

By Rye James

Tom Connors rode down the street noticing that there wasn’t much activity going on. He only saw a couple riders and only a few old-timers sitting in chairs outside the barber shop. The town seemed devoid of any life or energy. He’d seen it before though. Sundown wasn’t the first town he’d been hired to clean up. He stopped his horse in front of the Sheriff’s office and dismounted his Thoroughbred.