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."

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.

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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.

"It was time then for action, and Lefty Joe prepared for the descent into the home of the enemy. Let it not be thought that he approached this moment with a fallen heart, and with a cringing, snaky feeling as a man might be expected to feel when he approached to murder a sleeping foeman. For that was not Lefty's emotion at all. Rather he was overcome by a tremendous happiness. He could have sung with joy at the thought that he was about to rid himself of this pest."

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.

Solitary, mysterious figure Donnegan is on the run from his past. The last thing he has time for is love. But like all matters of the heart, sometimes emotions bloom when they are least convenient — as they do the first time Donnegan encounters the kind, free-spirited Lou Macon. Do they have a shot at a happy life somewhere — or are Donnegan's misdeeds bound to catch up with them?