Short stories
In the middle of the cabin stood Magpie Simpkins, my pardner, and facing him is a fat _hombre_, dressed like a cross between a short-card artist and a perfume pedler. They don’t see me. From the expression on their faces, I’d say that their minds are null and void as far as I’...
In the middle of the cabin stood Magpie Simpkins, my pardner, and facing him is a fat _hombre_, dressed like a cross between a short-card artist and a perfume pedler. They don’t...
2. Part 2“Five dollars!” yawps Pete. “Five hundred dollars when I die? Haw! Haw! Haw! Mighty Jones couldn’t hit a flock of passenger trains. Me and the judge has just about got his locat...