Western

The outlaw

Romancing the West,
And seducing the Myth;
He’s fast with his gun,
This no man’s son,
He’s a homeless rider,
And a meandering liar,

He goes much as he comes,

Introduction to a Novel about wealth, love and dispair.

A boy makes a tough decision growing up on his family's ranch in New Mexico. Written for a school writing competition

Eight wagons had fallen several miles behind a large emigrant wagon train heading to Oregon. The eight wagons known as the Quinn party pushed rapidly on towards their destination.

It was Christmas day, I remember, when them two Mexicans came ridin’ into Bethlehem on their old mule and stopped at my pa’s door; a young man and woman I recollect and the woman looked like she w

A poetic commentary on the current budget crisis.

Quinn lived the drifting life of a gunfighter. He just drifted from town to town and at the age of twenty-one he's a tough customer.

The End.

"Make no mistake, my friend, I am an evil man."

John and Roy enter Lawton. The ride has passed in silence with no words spoken. None needed be.

The men sit in silence. Jack speaks with voice slick and taunting, as though a laugh could rise from his throat at any moment.
"I killed them. You know that, right?"

“You ought to get out more, Varlyn. Enjoy yourself. Who knows when this is all going to end?”

Peter stands on the stage, the child between him and his enemy. His eyes shine dark. He lets out a shrieking laugh as John nears.
"That's far enough, one more step and I bleed him."

Peter steps from his podium and gestures towards the family.
"Come now, my children, we must wash you. Wash you so that sin shall flee. Wash you in the waters of the Lord."

Robert and Jesse enter the dining hall. Ben follows close behind. They dress well in clothes clean and pressed. Father Gabriel sits before an extended table. Peter stands beside him.

"Do you believe in evil, Father?"
Maxwell leans forward to match her stare.
"I do."

‎'scuse me sir. 'r the clay pigeons flyin this away?

No fella. That there's the spectator stand right there. You need to turn about afore y fire that thing.

Obliged, mister.

"I can hear you breathing.”
The Tall Man remains silent, hidden by shadows that lie beyond the lamp's reach.
“Whatever you’ve come to say or do, say or do it.”

“I do not understand his will.”
“I do not understand his will.”
“But I accept it.”
“I accept it.”

The man in the suit edges closer. The barrel of The Tall Man’s gun digs deep into him. His blade slides slowly across the Rider’s throat. A thin line trails, just enough.