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Western Short Stories
J. Allan Dunn
Western short stories Bio. of J. Allan Dunn
From
J. Allan Dunn, was one of the high-producing writers of the American pulp magazines. He published well over a thousand stories, novels, and serials from 1914–41. He first made a name for himself in Adventure. Well over half of his output appeared in Street & Smith pulps, including People's, Complete Story Magazine, and Wild West Weekly. He wrote approximately 470 stories for Wild West Weekly alone. His main genres were adventure and western; although he did write a number of detective stories.
Ranger Style
J. Allan Dunn
Grab the ceiling! The man who looks down is dead!”
There was no one in the bank who doubted the statement. The second bandit advanced to the paying teller’s window. With a heavy-calibered, single-action, cocked and probably hair-triggered pistol, he motioned the teller to admit him back of the long counter that ran the length of the room. Read the full story HERE>>
The Golden Trail
J. Allan Dunn
The pool in the creek was still cloudy when the ranger came to it. Someone had passed through within the last few minutes. The current was not very swift and the pool was slow in clearing. The bandit was only a little way ahead of him, if he was still on the bandit’s trail.
“Bud” Jones, corporal in Company F, Texas Rangers, checked his roan, Pepper, and allowed it to drink before he started to cross the creek. He sat upright and alert in the saddle, a soldierly looking figure in his ranger equipment. Read the full story HERE>>
Night of the Thirteenth
J. Allan Dunn
The sorrel mare was hitched third from the far end of the rail. Evidence as to her disposition was plain. The pinto to her left and the white stockinged bay on her right had crowded against their opposite neighbors, giving the mare all the spare room possible. As Jimmy Pringle came toward her she laid back her ears and showed a white rim to her nigh eye, twisting a snaky neck as far as her bridle hitch would allow. This was her average greeting, ending in a vicious nip for Jimmy’s knee as he swung down into the saddle. Usually he greeted her with an amiable, if vigorous, cussword. Tonight his own mood too nearly matched that of the mare. He was sore at the world. Read the rest of Night of the Thirteenth HERE>>
