Frontier of Violence (Rattlesnake Wells, Wyoming, Band 2) - Softcover

Johnstone, William W.; Johnstone, J.A.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0786044845 ISBN 13: 9780786044849

Verlag: Pinnacle, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

Welcome to the West's most dangerous town. In the electrifying new series from America's bestelling western writers, Marshal Bob Hatfield is fighting back against a tide of chaos and murder--with every weapon they can fire . . .

In the shadow of the Prophecy Mountains, the ramshackle boomtown of Rattlesnake Wells draws schemers, predators, and desperate pilgrims. As for the law, that's the town marshal, a former Texas outlaw trying to make a new life for himself. ButSundown Bob Hatfield knows a man who's slick on the draw can't escape trouble for long. In Rattlesnake Wells, you fight fire with fire--and a new one has just exploded.

An enterprising saloon owner stages a shooting contest with a matched pair of gold-plated revolvers as first prize. But some contestants don't play by the rules, and these aren't just any old gold-plated guns. Now the guns are gone, innocent hostages have been taken for a violent ride, and a chase is on into the vast Wyoming wilderness--where a terrifying dark secret will be exposed, much blood will be spilled, and a fast-gun marshal will bring the real outlaws to their knees . . .

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

William W. Johnstone is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of over 300 books, including PREACHER, THE LAST MOUNTAIN MAN, LUKE JENSEN BOUNTY HUNTER, FLINTLOCK, SAVAGE TEXAS, MATT JENSEN, THE LAST MOUNTAIN MAN; THE FAMILY JENSEN, SIDEWINDERS, and SHAWN O’BRIEN TOWN TAMER. His thrillers include Phoenix Rising, Home Invasion, The Blood of Patriots, The Bleeding Edge, and Suicide Mission. Visit his website at www.williamjohnstone.net or by email at dogcia2006@aol.com. 
 
Being the all-around assistant, typist, researcher, and fact checker to one of the most popular western authors of all time, J.A. Johnstone learned from the master, Uncle William W. Johnstone.  
 
He began tutoring J.A. at an early age. After-school hours were often spent retyping manuscripts or researching his massive American Western history library as well as the more modern wars and conflicts. J.A. worked hard—and learned. 
 
“Every day with Bill was an adventure story in itself. Bill taught me all he could about the art of storytelling. ‘Keep the historical facts accurate,’ he would say. ‘Remember the readers, and as your grandfather once told me, I am telling you now: be the best J.A. Johnstone you can be.’”

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Rattlesnake Wells, Wyoming Frontier of Violence

By William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

Copyright © 2017 J. A. Johnstone
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7860-4484-9

CHAPTER 1

Things had been relatively peaceful in Rattlesnake Wells, Wyoming. In recent days there were the usual quota of saloon brawls, a few incidents of drunks discharging firearms mainly to see folks scatter, and a domestic squabble or two. But nothing more serious than that.

Not to say, however, there wasn't still an undercurrent of excitement running through the town, due primarily to the announced opening of a spanking brand- new saloon in the New Town section on the north end of the city.

A saloon, especially in that part of town, wasn't particularly newsworthy in and of itself. The difference in this case was the much-ballyhooed opulence of the new business — as opposed to the quickly thrown-up tent saloons and gambling joints currently blighting the boom area as a result of the gold strike up in the Prophecy Mountains.

But, despite the general excitement, certain folks around town were neither happy nor impressed by what they were hearing — opulence be damned.

"It ain't that I mind facing tough competition," declared Mike Bullock, owner of the cleverly named Bullock's Saloon. "Hell, I've done that plenty of times before, in plenty of different places." He paused, his broad face bunching into a scowl. "But this Gafford character is starting to really get under my skin. I mean, a whole brand-new building, a fancy la-di-da name, an imported bar, even dance hall girls ... you'd think that oughta be about enough, wouldn't you? But now this" — Bullock held up a poster emblazoned with large letters and colorful images and gave it a rattling shake — "this is pushing things too blasted far, says I!"

The paper Bullock was waving in the faces of Marshal Bob Hatfield and Maudie Sartain was an advertising flyer heralding the scheduled grand opening of the new saloon. The flyer featured all of the things Bullock had just mentioned in his agitated spiel, but with a bit more detail — like how the name of the new establishment would be the Crystal Diamond; how its main hall would feature an ornate cherrywood bar and a spectacular crystal chandelier both specially delivered all the way from San Francisco; and how the highlight of each evening's entertainment would be Miss Alora Dane and her Diamond Dollies performing dazzling song-and-dance routines.

But the real focal point of the flyer — the "this" that seemed to have Bullock on the brink of blowing his stack — was the event newly announced to kick off the Crystal Diamond's big opening. It was to be a shooting competition, open to all comers, offering as the first prize a matched set of gold-plated pistols with diamond-encrusted grips. Adding to the lure of the words, a picture of the pistols was prominently displayed.

"Gafford sure knows how to draw interest — you can't deny him that," said Maudie.

"I saw some of those flyers earlier. They're going up all over town," said the marshal. "I just hope that, in the process of drawing interest, those jeweled pistols don't also draw a heap of trouble. You combine a prize like that with a bunch of shooters and shootin' irons and a saloonful of who-hit-John, you got the makings for just about anything."

"There you go!" exclaimed Bullock, slapping the flyer down onto the table and pointing a thick finger at the marshal. "You'd be well within your rights to shut the whole shindig down, says I, as a public nuisance almost certain to start a riot."

Bob shook his head. "Come on, Mike. You can't be serious."

"You said yourself — "

"I said there'd be the makings of trouble. I didn't say it was a certainty or a guarantee, and therefore it's not something I can take legal action against. Comes right down to it, your place here — not to mention any one of the tent saloons or gambling joints along Gold Avenue — has got the same makings on just about any night of the week." Bob shrugged. "Minus the jeweled pistols and with smaller, more manageable crowds, that's all."

This discussion was taking place at a rear table in Bullock's Saloon, the oldest and most popular drinking establishment in Rattlesnake Wells. Except for a quartet of old-timers who sat quietly smoking and nursing their drinks as they played cards at a table toward the center of the room, the place was empty during this lull period in the middle of a weekday afternoon.

Mike Bullock was a balding, bullet-headed Irishman, only average in height but with a beer keg torso and thick, almost apelike arms ending in mallet-sized fists that had ended more than a few arguments and helped to quell many a brawl. Quick as his temper and fists were, however, he could also at times be bighearted and generous to a fault.

Maudie Sartain was his dependable right hand who helped with the day-to-day running of things — her duties ranging the gamut from tending bar when needed to ordering stock to serving as a sort of house mother to the hostesses Bullock employed to serve drinks and otherwise entertain male customers. A curvaceous, jet-haired beauty who made a habit of wearing dresses that proudly displayed ample cleavage, she'd long ago mastered the fine art of flirting without promising too much or allowing things to get out of hand. When some hombres got the wrong idea and tried to get too friendly with their hands because they were either too drunk or just plain too dumb, Maudie had also mastered the sharp-tongued reprimand or, if that wasn't enough, a sharp elbow where it would do the most good.

Tall, solid, square-shouldered Bob Hatfield — called "Sundown Bob" by some, due to the flaming red color of his hair — in addition to looking in on all local businesses from time to time in his role as town marshal, made particularly frequent stops at Bullock's. It wasn't that the marshal was a heavy drinker or anything. He hardly imbibed at all, in fact, and especially not when on duty. He simply enjoyed the company of Mike and Maudie. Usually when he stopped in and lingered for any amount of time, he'd have a cup or two of Maudie's excellent coffee, as opposed to the dreadful brew he and his deputies made at the marshal's office, or sometimes some of the tea that she herself preferred.

Such was the case today, in fact, as he found himself sipping from a new blend that Maudie had insisted he try. It wasn't bad, but neither was it something he'd make a point of requesting the next time he came around. Yet, even at that, it was still better than what was waiting in the pot back at his office.

"Yeah, let Gafford go ahead and have his silly contest and draw his big, splashy crowd," grumbled Bullock, continuing his bitter lament. "Let's see how long all that lasts after the novelty has worn off. The ranchers and miners in these parts are hardworking men who want a fair measure to their drinks and a friendly atmosphere where they can bend an elbow, lay down a few cards in an honest game, and maybe pat a hostess on the bottom once in a while. They don't need all the hoopla of glittery chandeliers and high-kickin' dancing girls while they're being served watered-down drinks at jacked-up prices.

"What's more, when the Prophecies have coughed out their last gasp of gold dust — like always happens in booms like the one we're going through — then how long do you think August Gafford and his Crystal Claptrap will even be around? I was here before the first vein was tapped up in those mountains and I'll still be...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Pinnacle
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0786044845
• ISBN 13: 9780786044849
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 384
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: eucomply OÜ, Pärnu mnt; hello@eucompliancepartner.com; ; 139b-14; Tallinn; 11317; Estland