Books with title Gunman’s Reckoning

The fifty empty freights danced and rolled and rattled on the rough road bed and filled Jericho Pass with thunder; the big engine was laboring and grunting at the grade, but five cars back the noise of the locomotive was lost. Yet there is a way to talk above the noise of a freight train just as there is a way to whistle into the teeth of a stiff wind. This freight-car talk is pitched just above the ordinary tone-it is an overtone of conversation, one might say-and it is distinctly nasal. The brakie could talk above the racket, and so, of course, could Lefty Joe. They sat about in the center of the train, on the forward end of one of the cars. No matter how the train lurched and staggered over that fearful road bed, these two swayed in their places as easily and as safely as birds on swinging perches. The brakie had touched Lefty Joe for two dollars; he had secured fifty cents; and since the vigor of Lefty's oaths had convinced him that this was all the money the tramp had, the two now sat elbow to elbow and killed the distance with their talk. "It's like old times to have you here," said the brakie. "You used to play this line when you jumped from coast to coast." "Sure," said Lefty Joe, and he scowled at the mountains on either side of the pass. The train was gathering speed, and the peaks lurched eastward in a confused, ragged procession. "And a durned hard ride it's been many a time." "Kind of queer to see you," continued the brakie. "Heard you was rising in the world." He caught the face of the other with a rapid side glance, but Lefty Joe was sufficiently concealed by the dark. "Heard you were the main guy with a whole crowd behind you," went on the brakie. "Yeh?"

A drifter has the opportunity to right a wrong, but does he know the whole truth? This is a story of love; lies and adventure told in Max Brand’s trademark witty and lyrical style. A typical early 20th century western. It's a tale of a tough guy who gets involved with an evil man with an angel daughter for whom the tough guy falls. His efforts to recover hers and her father's gold mine claims is the story. Not a lot of shoot em up but enough story to make one want to finish the book to see how things work out. Max Brand, was the pen name of Frederick Schiller Faust. He was a prolific American author best known for his classic western novels. Brand also created the famous character Dr. Kildare which became the basis of many films and television shows.

Frederick Schiller Faust (May 29, 1892 – May 12, 1944) was an American author known primarily for his thoughtful and literary Westerns under the pen name Max Brand. Faust (as Max Brand) also created the popular fictional character of young medical intern Dr. James Kildare in a series of pulp fiction stories. Faust's Kildare character was subsequently featured over several decades in other media, including a series of American theatrical films by Paramount Pictures and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), a radio series, two television series, and comics. Faust's other pseudonyms include George Owen Baxter, Evan Evans, George Evans, David Manning, John Frederick, Peter Morland, George Challis, Peter Ward and Frederick Frost.

For the first moment Donnegan was not sure; it was not until there was a slight faltering in the deal--an infinitely small hesitation which only a practiced eye like that of Donnegan's could have noticed--that he was sure. The winner was crooked. Yet the hand was interesting for all that. He had done the master trick, not only giving himself the winning hand but also giving each of the others a fine set of cards.

The fifty empty freights danced and rolled and rattled on the rough road bed and filled Jericho Pass with thunder; the big engine was laboring and grunting at the grade, but five cars back the noise of the locomotive was lost. Yet there is a way to talk above the noise of a freight train just as there is a way to whistle into the teeth of a stiff wind. This freight-car talk is pitched just above the ordinary tone—it is an overtone of conversation, one might say—and it is distinctly nasal. The brakie could talk above the racket, and so, of course, could Lefty Joe. They sat about in the center of the train, on the forward end of one of the cars. No matter how the train lurched and staggered over that fearful road bed, these two swayed in their places as easily and as safely as birds on swinging perches. The brakie had touched Lefty Joe for two dollars; he had secured fifty cents; and since the vigor of Lefty's oaths had convinced him that this was all the money the tramp had, the two now sat elbow to elbow and killed the distance with their talk. "It's like old times to have you here," said the brakie. "You used to play this line when you jumped from coast to coast." "Sure," said Lefty Joe, and he scowled at the mountains on either side of the pass. The train was gathering speed, and the peaks lurched eastward in a confused, ragged procession. "And a durned hard ride it's been many a time." "Kind of queer to see you," continued the brakie. "Heard you was rising in the world." He caught the face of the other with a rapid side glance, but Lefty Joe was sufficiently concealed by the dark. "Heard you were the main guy with a whole crowd behind you," went on the brakie. "Yeh?" "Sure. Heard you was riding the cushions, and all that." "Yeh?" "But I guess it was all bunk; here you are back again, anyway." "Yep," agreed Lefty. The brakie scratched his head, for the silence of the tramp convinced him that there had been, after all, a good deal of truth in the rumor. He ran back on another tack and slipped about Lefty. "I never laid much on what they said," he averred. "I know you, Lefty; you can do a lot, but when it comes to leading a whole gang, like they said you was, and all that—well, I knew it was a lie. Used to tell 'em that."

"I never laid much on what they said," he averred. "I know you, Lefty; you can do a lot, but when it comes to leading a whole gang, like they said you was, and all that-well, I knew it was a lie. Used to tell 'em that." "You talked foolish, then," burst out Lefty suddenly. "It was all straight." The brakie could hear the click of his companion's teeth at the period to this statement, as though he regretted his outburst. "Well, I'll be hanged," murmured the brakie innocently. Ordinarily, Lefty was not easily lured, but this night he apparently was in the mood for talk. "Kennebec Lou, the Clipper, and Suds. Them and a lot more. They was all with me; they was all under me.

For the first moment Donnegan was not sure; it was not until there was a slight faltering in the deal--an infinitely small hesitation which only a practiced eye like that of Donnegan's could have noticed--that he was sure. The winner was crooked. Yet the hand was interesting for all that. He had done the master trick, not only giving himself the winning hand but also giving each of the others a fine set of cards.