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A lately neglected author who comes to mind is Frank Gruber (1904-1969). He wrote in quantity for both the western and detective titles during the golden years of the pulps. He also scripted at least a couple of Universal's revered Sherlock Holmes movies starring Basil Rathbone as the great detective and Nigel Bruce as his Watson. Made on low budgets in Hollywood during World War II,  Terror By Night and Dressed to Kill (aka Prelude to Murder) are now in the public domain and have been reissued several times on DVD packs of varying quality. They are fun nostalgia, often at a modest price. (But a conductor on a London-Edinburgh express. . .?)

If only a western movie will do, why not hunt out 1955's Rage at Dawn, another classic widely available on DVD? It's based on Frank Gruber's fictionalization of the story of the Reno Brothers gang and stars Randolph Scott, Forrest Tucker and J. Carrol Naish. Scott plays James Barlow, a detective agency operative sent from Chicago to infiltrate the gang.

Gruber's twentieth century detective creations, featured in crime novels worth tracking down, were Simon Lash and Eddie Slocum, Johnny Fletcher and Sam Cragg, and Oliver Quade.

For the large and small screens, Gruber reputedly wrote more than 200 scripts or scenarios, mainly westerns. He created several television series, notably Tales of Wells Fargo, The Texan, and Shotgun Slade (1959-61). The last combined his favourite genres: Slade was a private eye in the Old West.

Another prolific crime and western writer of the same period was William Ard. He was mentioned not long ago by James Reasoner at his absorbing blog, Rough Edges. James is a writer with a sure foot in both camps today; Ard was the private-eye tale-teller with the Timothy Dane and Lou Largo series who, under the name Jonas Ward, created the long-running Buchanan westerns.

Ard wrote the first five books featuring Tom Buchanan, one of which was made into a movie in 1958, again starring Randolph Scott. Buchanan Rides Alone was filmed tongue-in-cheek by famed western director Budd Boetticher, based on the novel The Name Is Buchanan.

Ard died during the writing of the sixth Buchanan book, and it was completed by science-fictioneer Robert Silverberg.

The series was continued by Brian Garfield, another writer now also renowned for crime fiction, who contributed Buchanan's Range War before William R. Cox took over with titles including Buchanan's Stage Line.

Buchanan had a memorable pard in Coco Bean, a prizefighter, holding the title Black Champion of the World.

In Britain, writers of light fiction made similar crime/western crossovers through the years. Veteran John Hunter (1891-1961) was a key contributor to the Amalgamated Press's Sexton Blake Library detective series well into the 1950s.

As a boy, I developed a taste for Hunter's tightly written, exciting stories which tempted me to sample his Lannagan novels for the same publishing company's Western Library. They appeared in identical, inexpensive format -- two slim paperbacks a month with digest-sized, newsprint pages. The westerns had vigorous covers by James E. McConnell or Derek C. Eyles.

The Lannagan novels were accompanied by Western Library's reprints of the likes of Ernest Haycox, Max Brand and William Macleod Raine. Among other British crime writers contributing were Rex Hardinge, T.C.H. Jacobs and Sydney J. Bounds.

Rex Hardinge, like Hunter, was a Sexton Blake author. He was renowned for his stories set in India and Africa which he knew from first-hand experience. During World War II, Hardinge served as an officer in Military Intelligence. He was parachuted into China in 1942, remaining there until 1946 with "a cloak and dagger outfit".

He wrote his westerns as Rex Quintin and Charles Wrexe. More can be read about him at www.sextonblake.co.uk, the absorbing site put together by Mark Hodder.

Crime writer T. C. H. Jacobs (1899-1976), aka Jacques Pendower, Penn Dower and Tom Curtis, wrote original Western Library novels about a Texas marshal called Whip McCord, starting with Texas Stranger. I believe several were later reissued in hardcover versions by John Long Ltd.

From 1960, Jacobs's publisher for crime novels was Robert Hale Ltd. The Perfect Wife, published by Hale in 1962 under the Pendower name, features Slade McGinty, a private eye with an office-cum-flat in Brewer Street, Soho. McGinty is commissioned to seek information about the young, popular and charming Lady Sandra Bondell, who "sounded more like a saint than a modern young woman. Too damned good to be true."

Vintage detective novels by Jacobs published in the 1930s (US, Macaulay; UK, Stanley Paul) are listed by Allen J. Hubin as genre classics.

Jacobs had a keen interest in medical jurisprudence, also writing true-crime articles and books. And interest in criminal psychology could be put to use in a western, too, adding depth to plot and characterization:

"Slim, he thought, was not to be trusted with any lethal weapons. Such concentrated hatred in one so young fascinated Whip. He wondered if there was anything in heredity. Lefty Masters had been a killer. So, it seemed, was his son. Or was it merely environment? Slim would have been reared in the company of outlaws. He must inevitably have absorbed their anti-social thought and actions."

In the 1960s, when I was an editor for Micron Publications and Odhams Books, I asked Jacobs to contribute material and came to know him through letters and phone calls. Eventually, Jacobs invited me to lunch at the Wig and Pen Club in Fleet Street. Despite big differences in age and background, it consolidated a rapport. Born in Devon and living in Kent, Jacobs was a soldierly, no-nonsense gentleman who called a spade a spade in a voice that was gentle and gruff at the same time. Sadly, commercial fiction today supports very few craftsmen of his kind.

His experience was wide and long -- the army, the civil service, radio, film, Rotary, the Crime Writers' Association. . . . Jacobs's novel Traitor Spy was filmed in 1939-40, starring Bruce Cabot and released in the US as The Torso Murder Mystery. For D.C. Thomson, the periodical publishers based in Dundee, Jacobs was the author who wrote possibly the largest number of detective stories featuring Dixon Hawke, the company's rival to Sexton Blake. Jacobs produced most of the Hawke serials that appeared in the weekly Adventure in the 1930s as well as stories for the annual Dixon Hawke Casebook.

In 1949, for the Amalgamated Press, Jacobs wrote a western text series for Knockout paper,  Buffalo Bill -- Frontiersman. In December a year later, it was back to detectives for the same firm's Sun, with a series about Tough Tempest -- Crime Buster -- launched in that publication in the same issue as Barry (Joan Whitford) Ford's Law of Wild Bill Hickok series.

I suspect Jacobs's work may not be valued completely in his home country. Today, perhaps the finest store of his literary papers and manuscripts is kept in the Special Collections Library of Pennsylvania State University.

Another prolific "old hand" I worked with, Syd Bounds, wrote for Western Library as James Marshal, and while his speciality was science fiction, he could turn his hand to just about anything, including crime stories. In recent years, Syd wrote the Savage series of BHWs. A Man Called Savage is to be reissued by Ulverscroft in large-print this summer, joining Savage's Feud and making at least a couple of his westerns more readily available to US readers.

Also writing both crime and western fiction in the '50s was Vic J. Hanson. His crime yarns were gangster fiction of the Hank Janson kind, but he later turned to Sexton Blake detective stories. And then came many, many Hale westerns under his own name and Jay Hill Potter.

Hanson, Bounds, Jacobs and Hardinge all accepted invitations to write for me in the '60s when I was editing Western Adventure Library, Cowboy Adventure Library and -- in the crime line -- Edgar Wallace Mystery Magazine.

John Creasey (1908-1973) -- of Toff and Gideon fame, prolific author of hundreds of crime novels -- wrote about 30 westerns in the 1930s and '40s as William K. Reilly, Tex Riley and Ken Ranger. Once, he made the mistake of mixing up coyotes with buzzards or vultures. Because he was British, he was never forgiven for the "flying coyotes". Some US editors and literary agents didn't just laugh. They used the famous gaffe for years as grounds to reject automatically all westerns written by Britons -- notwithstanding Creasey wrote his, for him, small bunch in probable haste and difficult circumstances without the benefit of the research and reference books available today, let alone the Internet.

Meanwhile, "indigenous" writers -- an agent's adjective, not mine -- were allowed to survive unscathed sins of poor research similar to Creasey's. For example, as late as 1990, a respected western/crime writer could set his novel in 1901, write of a character anachronistically "zipping up his pants", yet continue to receive the critics' adoration in august trade journals such as Publishers Weekly and Booklist, and later have the work in question anthologized as one of the great stories of the American West. (Which it is, by the way.)

I hold no brief for John Creasey, beyond objection to the mean-spirited exclusion of anyone, but I did have a strong appreciation of his crime novels, which gave me countless hours of enjoyment in teen years and earlier. Copies of his westerns, as will be seen, I didn't come across in my youth. It was only late last year that I had the lucky chance to buy one. They are in the rare books category. Thus they change hands at prices way beyond the means of those who primarily read westerns rather than invest in them as collectibles or trophies from eBay hunts.

The Creasey western I read recently was a Western Library reprint of Riders of Dry Gulch, which avid Creasey bibliographer Richard Robinson records was originally published by Herbert Jenkins Ltd in 1943. Confirming this, I have in my files the handwritten note below which Mr Creasey sent me in 1958. The author lists the publishers for one of his mystery personas and his three western identities . . . and regrets that the westerns are, even then, out of print. None of them ever did reappear in the Jay Books paperbacks he mentions.

The Dry Gulch novel's main drawback  is adherence to a common practice of its age -- trying to convey supposedly western dialect through bizarre spelling. Clarity is sacrificed on occasion to no good purpose in the "jumpin' jack-rabbits" dialogue. Some might also find a lack of authenticity in the Texas setting. Particularly, the chapters set in El Paso would require, for today's knowledgeable reader, greater research attention. But bursts of action are frequent and, despite a little meandering in the storyline along the way, a villain is unmasked in the last chapter. Mystery elements feature as prominently as in the Creasey crime novels of the period -- the Peter Mantons, Norman Deanes, Anthony Mortons, Gordon Ashes and so on.

A good man is framed and persecuted; an eccentric runs loose. You are left in no doubt about what kind of story you are reading when lawyer Petrie tells cowboy hero Boyd Warren in an early chapter, "I'm a long way happy 'bout Long Paul. Is he more than he pretends? Is his queerness acted? Answer that, and maybe yuh'll answer a lot more. Ther's plenty that want answerin' in Dry Gulch. If Olsen was wrongly convicted, as I think, ther's a man at large, more than one man, I know, but one who organised these killings and lootings. Since Olsen left, there has been none of them, but I live in constant dread that they will break out again."

Maybe for the people who read and wrote in wartime Britain, a mystery novel set in a faraway Old West provided a more complete escape than a novel placed in a society and against a background where familiar detail couldn't help but remind them, along with the nightly air raids, that the way of life they cherished was under appalling threat. Quaint (wistful?) mention is made in Riders of Dry Gulch of steak "juicy-looking, sizzling in the heat", bacon and eggs, chickens on spits and a smell of frying steak.

Before World War II,  in 1938, Creasey had dedicated the novel Introducing the Toff, published in hardcover by John Long Ltd, to the Amalgamated Press man who later edited both the Sexton Blake and Western Libraries. The dedication ran, "To L. E. Pratt, who first put the Toff into print."

Richard Robinson told me a few years ago, "John's westerns are like the Holy Grail -- and some of the harder books to find. At a recent get-together [of a group of Creasey enthusiasts] we had just over a half of them in various editions. Several were published in magazine form in the US and are more common."

Though Creasey's reputation rests on his hundreds of crime novels, I think he maintained a pride in his western writing after it became unobtainable. He was an assiduous publicist and in the late '50s issued a greetings-style card to his reader correspondents with the title "Creasey books are on top of the world . . . and here are some of the reasons why". In it is the sentence: "He is the only English member of Western Writers of America." Which should have been qualification enough to clip the wings of any patriotic, wild-west high-flyer objecting to sharing his air space with coyotes!

Among the later Sexton Blake writers who also wrote, or had previously written, westerns was the much under-rated Jack Trevor Story, author of The Trouble With Harry, filmed by Alfred Hitchcock, and Live Now, Pay Later. Story's "rather good westerns", as he described them, were mostly about a character called Pinetop Jones and were published in the '50s, usually in hardcover for the lending library trade, by Hamilton (Stafford), originators of the Panther Books paperbacks. When I was in London copy-editing Sexton Blake novels for the Amalgamated Press in the early '60s, I was completely unaware that Story had also been western authors Bret Harding and Alex Atwell.

On the back cover of a Panther Books hardcover, Harding's author bio says, "He has always been interested in the genesis of the western novel, especially those in which character, humour and genuine suspense take precedence over the stereotyped horse opera plot." Mystery, romance and intellectual eccentricity are also mentioned. Anyone who met Story, or has read his work or about him, knows something of the last! To sample an opening chapter from a quirky Jack Trevor Story western go to  http://www.jacktrevorstory.com/pinetop_jones.htm . The entire website is an excellent tribute.

By the end of the Swinging Sixties, few British crime writers were left dabbling in westerns, or admitting they once had. Then came the '70s and the influence of the Italian movie makers with their violently dramatic, spaghetti westerns. A younger generation of British writers took on board the lessons. Terry Harknett, a self-confessed "frustrated mystery writer" with "no particular penchant" for westerns, slipped into the scene almost by accident.

"For fifteen long years I wrote mystery novels [for Robert Hale Ltd] that were published twice yearly  -- and sank without trace at the same rate," he told the US magazine The Writer.

Luck took a hand, he said, when he was hired to write a "book of the movie" and it happened to be a western. "I had not seen it and I had never read a western novel."

But the rest is history. He did a few more; it was realized nobody was writing books like the tough spaghetti movies; he assumed the pen-name George G. Gilman, and the famous Edge paperbacks came into being.

Soon, every paperback publisher in London had an Edge-series clone. The stories were written almost exclusively by a coterie of writers who followed, perhaps unknowingly, in the tracks of an existing tradition of writers "who hadn't been further west than Paddington Station". They won themselves a higher profile than the forgotten British western writers of earlier decades and became known as the Piccadilly Cowboys. Among them were John B. Harvey and Mike Linaker.

John Harvey's books had the trademark of the PCs which was gritty realism, the more sordid it could be made the better: "Wes Hart woke sticky with sweat that lay on his body like cloying vomit, turning cold." Harvey did the opposite to Terry Harknett -- he later headed completely away from his fascinatingly ugly westerns, about Hart the Regulator, to write bestselling crime novels about Detective Inspector Charlie Resnick.

Mike, as Neil Hunter, Richard Wyler and John C. Danner, still rides the range for Black Horse Westerns and the large-print Linford Western Library, while his bill-paying work is blockbuster adventure thrillers for Gold Eagle's series based on Mack Bolan lore.

Associated at an early stage with producing a fanzine for Harknett's GGG fans, another Mike -- Mike Stotter -- graduated to writing westerns of his own. In 1997, Ed Gorman and Martin H. Greenberg chose an extract from Mike's first BHW, McKinney's Revenge, for inclusion in The Fatal Frontier. This was a 420-page anthology in which Gorman and Greenberg demonstrated the direct links between crime fiction and western fiction, proving the contention with a fine collection of stories from Elmore Leonard, John Jakes, Brian Garfield, Marcia Muller, James Reasoner and other top-selling crime and mystery authors. Today, Mike continues with occasional western projects, but he is also highly respected as the editor of the crime fiction website Shots (www.shotsmag.co.uk).

To compile a complete history of  the parallels between hardboiled detective stories and westerns would be beyond my capabilities and take space unavailable here. But I will add that a lifetime's enjoyment of tightly plotted crime thrillers ensures I'd be less than satisfied with writing a Chap O'Keefe western which didn't contain mystery and suspense. For stories about the series character Joshua Dillard, an ex-Pinkerton detective, the elements are routinely accommodated. The Gunman and the Actress and The Lawman and the Songbird attempt a pattern set by genre classics. So, too, do Shootout at Hellyer's Creek, The Sandhills Shootings, Ride the Wild Country and this month's Sons and Gunslicks. Every time, the intention has been to spring plot surprises and solve puzzles in the closing pages of action-packed yarns.

My other series character, Misfit Lil, similarly encounters situations more common to crime stories. In one forthcoming title, Misfit Lil Hides Out, she is framed for murder. As always, resourceful Lil makes some ingenious plays and produces the necessary answers to a mystery with a flourish at the end.

To wrap up, let's return to Frank Gruber with whom we started. The aim here -- in case detractors are itching to level the charge -- has not been to paint a picture of a cosy club of forgotten old fogies. Way back in January 1941, Gruber made the following comments, in which you could substitute "western" for "mystery" all the way through:

"The manager of a large book store gave me an advance copy of a mystery novel by a new author and asked me for my honest opinion of the story.

"It started off swell.  The detective was a colourful character.  The writing had a vitality you seldom find, the dialogue was crisp and the story moved.  It lacked only two things, but those two things meant all the difference between an outstanding mystery and 'just another mystery novel.'

"The story lacked a theme and it lacked invention.  All right, nine out of ten mystery novels lack those two very same things.  That’s why they sell their 2000 to 3000 copies and are forgotten. A dozen or so mysteries stand out every year from five hundred that are published. In practically every case these outstanding mysteries have both theme and invention.

"In a previous article in the Writer’s Digest I stated my opinion that a colourful theme was vital in a bestselling mystery novel.  I still hold that to be true, but now I add that without invention the theme falls flat.  .  .  .  

"All detective stories have the same basic plot.  A murder is committed, perhaps two or three; questions are asked and answered and your detective makes certain deductions and eventually pins the guilt upon the culprit.

"Every detective story writer has to work from his skeleton plot. The dressing he gives it is what makes his story different from other detective stories. But too often this dressing is commonplace. The jaded detective story reader has read essentially the same thing a hundred times. Murder in itself is no longer startling or unusual.

"That is why the smart detective story writer gives his story invention.

"In my own case, I try to have a minimum of six or seven inventions in a novel and I try to space them out so there’ll be one every two or three chapters.  .  .  .  That is exactly why this story falls flat on its appendix.  It has nothing different in it, nothing unusual. It lacks both theme and invention."

Some advice is timeless. I hope, as either readers or writers, we can count on theme and invention being among the ingredients in many of today's Black Horse Westerns.

-- Keith Chapman, aka Chap O'Keefe, whose
 latest BHW is Sons and Gunslicks.

Greg Mitchell dispels misconceptions

---

The Extra pays tribute to Sydney J. Bounds

Even as the office junior at Fleetway, I recognized Syd was much under-rated. His Sexton Blake novels were published as by Peter Saxon, George Sydney and Desmond Reid -- all "house" pen-names -- but my memory is that the re-write work on them was barely necessary. When a Blake novel was later chosen to be serialized for the first time in a widely circulated weekly paper, Tit-Bits, it came as no surprise to me that it was one of Syd's. I've heard, though, that the unassuming Syd wasn't told and found out only much later. 

Sydney James Bounds was born on November 4, 1920 in Brighton, a seaside resort fifty miles south of London. He worked as an electrical fitter before moving to Kingston-on-Thames, where he studied electrical engineering at a technical college. During World War II, he was an electrician and instrument repairer for  Royal Air Force ground crew. At the same time, he began writing science fiction and fantasy.

Steve Holland, at his aptly named blog, Bear Alley, records that Syd sold his first story in 1943 and was one of the more prolific authors of the "mushroom jungle" post-war era of cheap UK paperback publishing. Steve says, "Although he wrote over 40 novels, Syd’s metier was always the short story of which he wrote hundreds, many published anonymously in children’s papers and annuals. Anyone who has tried to make a living from selling fiction will know the difficulties of changing characters and plots every 2,000 words, yet Syd managed to make a living doing just that for many years. Although best known for his science fiction, his talent for turning a situation on its head in one chilling line made him one of the champions of small press horror magazines of the 1980s and 1990s."

Among Syd's earlier work, was a string of western novels in the 1950s for the Amalgamated Press's Western Library as James Marshal. In the 1960s, he wrote more westerns under his own name for Robert Hale Ltd. These were of the same length as, and appeared in a similar format to, the later Black Horse Westerns. Titles I know of  were The Yaqui Trail, Gun Brothers and Lynching at Noon City.

In the spring of 2000, Syd began writing westerns for Hale again after literary agent Phil Harbottle sold many of his old paperback westerns to the firm for reissue in BHW hardcover.

The reissues came out under a baffling variety of pen-names: Howard Baron, Alexander Black, Roger Carne, Richard Daniels, Sam Foster, Jack Greener, David Guest, Paul Hammond, David Somers, Wes Sanders, Will Sutton, Neil Vaughan and Cliff Wallace. The new books appeared under the remarkable octogenarian's own byline.

One book was quickly picked for publishing in the Linford Western Library large-print series, making it more readily available everywhere, including the US.

Savage's Feud  was a slam-bang episode in the life of Syd's series hero, Savage. The feud involved two families, the Howards and the Flints, and had its origins in the Civil War. At stake was a small fortune built on a stolen Army pay chest. Also quickly on the line were various lives, including Savage's.

Though not the first book in the Savage series, Syd's well-honed storytelling skills made it possible for the reader to piece together quickly, from allusions in the opening pages and later, that Savage was a young delinquent from the New York waterfront working as a Pinkerton agent in the South-west. He was referred to frequently as "small". But his appearance, of course, deceived -- an attribute he shared with many of the Max Brand heroes of olden times. Savage was as ferocious as his name. "A strong name," said the Indian Little Owl.

At one stage, after a bloody knife-duel to the death, another character stared at Savage and asked,  "Do the Pinkertons have any idea what kind of animal they've hired?" Savage replied, "Mr Allan [Pinkerton] picked me himself."

After decades at the action-fiction coalface, Syd's style was as terse and uncomplicated as ever in this yarn:  "He walked up rising ground to where the house sat on the crest. Lights in the windows were like eyes watching him. The sky darkened and horses in the corral turned their heads to stare as he passed by. No doubt there were men behind watching too."

And Syd still had the happy knack of sketching a gallery of colourful characters, even minor ones, with a few well-chosen words. Thus of a town marshal: "Even if he did have a wave in his hair and his guns had pearl handles, they still had real bullets in them." And "The storekeeper gave a weak smile. He was called the Pope because he wore a stiff collar and refused to open his shop on Sundays."

The arch-villain was a greedy and self-seeking town boss, as well as a fanatical ex-Confederate. Wheelchair-bound, he charged at the finale with a wild Rebel yell and a cavalry sword of good Southern steel extended before him. "This time, Savage, you're a dead man!"

Another Savage title, A Man Called Savage -- the first -- will be reissued in a Linford large-print edition this (northern) summer. The latest (last?) BHW is scheduled for May and is also a Savage story -- Savage Rides West.

Unmarried, Syd lived at the same address, 27 Borough Road, Kingston-on-Thames, for more than forty years. Like Steve Holland, I can still remember it from the '60s on editorial correspondence and the cover sheets to his neatly typed, always tidy manuscripts. Last May, however, he moved to Telford, Shropshire. Diagnosed with terminal cancer, he was admitted to a hospice and died just a few weeks after his 86th birthday.

-- Keith Chapman

What can I say about Syd? He was a real gentleman and one of the first authors I ever contacted, way back in 1979 when I was still at school. I had to do a project for one of our classes, a kind of General Studies class, where we could choose any subject at all. I chose British SF magazines, because I'd then recently become interested in them.

Through people like Phil Harbottle and Mike Ashley, I was able to contact some of the folks involved in the SF mags of the 1940s, one of whom was Syd. Later, when I had the crazy notion of putting together a small mag, Syd contributed a story. My project came to nothing, but I did subsequently publish one of Syd's stories in a souvenir booklet produced for the first Paperback & Pulp Bookfair.

Syd attended all the book fairs and turned out to be as friendly and generous in person as he was in correspondence. We talked about his long career as a writer, usually about his SF stories, or the stories that had appeared in annuals, or maybe the comic strips he'd penned -- whatever I happened to be researching at the time.

Because Syd was a professional, he could turn his hand to any genre and succeed. I don't mean to imply that he was a hack who would simply go where the money was being offered, although all professionals are forced to do that to a degree. He didn't have the hack mentality. He wouldn't just rehash some old idea dressed up as something new. . .he always tried to bring something new to everything he wrote that could often turn a stock situation on its head. He was also a very good writer of twist-in-the-tail short stories. Unlike the true "hack writer", Syd wouldn't short-change his readers.

Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Syd enjoyed meeting and talking to people he knew would be reading his stories. From his early days in science fiction fandom in the 1930s to his final years in what is now the 21st century, Syd was regularly face-to-face with his audience. Perhaps that's what made him want to put in that little bit extra and take just a little more care with his writing than some of his contemporaries.

Farewell, Syd.

NEW BLACK HORSE WESTERN NOVELS
(Published by Robert Hale Ltd, London)
                                                                                                978

Buried Guns	Dan Claymaker	0 7090 8247 7
Moon Raiders	Skeeter Dodds	0 7090 8253 8
Just Call Me Clint	Chad Hammer	0 7090 8252 1
Zacchaeus Wolfe	P. McCormac	0 7090 8243 9
Gold Country Ambush	George X. Holmes	0 7090 8257 6
Dalton's Valley	Ed Law	0 7090 8264 4
Montana Keep	Billy Hall	0 7090 8263 7
They Called Him Lightning	Mark Falcon	0 7090 8267 5
The Range Shootout	Carlton Youngblood	0 7090 8216 3
Brevet Ridge	Abe Dancer	0 7090 8275 0
Sons and Gunslicks	Chap O'Keefe	0 7090 8068 8
The Long Trail	Corba Sunman	0 7090 8127 2
Bluecoat Renegade	Dale Graham	0 7090 8166 1
Killer on the Loose	Elliot Long	0 7090 8300 9
Texas Rendezvous	Gary Astill	0 7090 8302 3
Hideout	Eugene Clifton	0 7090 8308 5
Flight from Felicidad	Steven Gray	0 7090 8315 3
Satan's Gun	Bill Williams	0 7090 8316 0
The Vernon Brand	Tom Benson	0 7090 8317 7
The Laredo Gang	Alan Irwin	0 7090 8318 4
Showdown at Trinidad	Daniel Rockfern	0 7090 7649 0
Hell Pass	Lance Howard	0 7090 8187 6
Both Sides of the Law	Hank J. Kirby	0 7090 8307 8
Kid Lobo	Clayton Nash	0 7090 8322 1
Gun Lords of Texas	Matt James	0 7090 8323 8
The Mavericks	Mark Bannerman	0 7090 8324 5
The Man They Couldn't Hang	Scott Connor	0 7090 8336 8
Dangling Noose	Jack Holt	0 7090 8337 5
Draw Down the Lightning	Ben Bridges	0 7090 8340 5
Silver Galore	John Dyson	0 7090 8355 1