Stringer In Tombstone

The way Stringer sees it, some cuss hard up for a laugh planted that news tip about Tombstone being flooded because that dusty town is about as dry as they come. But Stringer sure as hell ain't laughing when his newspaper boss sends him to Arizona to root out the truth. And the fast gun that's trying to kill him ain't kidding. And neither are the two lusty librarians who want to check him out. The only thing Stringer knows for certain is that Tombstone is a place where the truth can get twisted tighter than a hangman's knot.

Usually it takes Stringer a little while to rile folks in a new town. But no sooner does he step off the train in Tulsa than some sidewinder is doing his best to turn Stringer into yesterday's news. The hot story in Tulsa is the oil boom. It seems you can't dig a grave without hitting black gold. And Stringer's there to write the story. But MacKail's never seen such a sorry assortment of low-down, hornswoggling bushwhackers because, as Stringer well knows, where there's money, there's outlaws and lawyers—and sometimes it's hard to tell them apart.

They say Judge Roy Bean has been up to some legal tomfoolery again. And it's MacKail's job to get the scoop on the infamous "hanging judge." But someone is out to stop Stringer—dead. Now it could be old Bean and some of his boys. Or maybe it's just another Lone Star gunslick with too much nerve and too little smarts. The only thing MacKail knows for sure is that newspaper men ain't welcome, especially not around Bean or his laughing pack of blood-simple coyotes. The only person who even says howdy is a south-of-the-border bandit about to turn revolutionary. But with Pancho Villa on your side, you don't need any enemies.

When a legendary old gunslinger finally meets his Maker in some godforsaken West Texas town, Stringer heads to the scene for what he thinks is a routine story. But when he gets to Comanche Woe, it turns out he's landed in the middle of a dust storm of trouble. It's open season on wanted men. A wily varmint called Buckskin Jack Blair has crowned himself marshal. And murderous vigilantes and bounty hunters are crawling out of the woodwork. When the bullets start flying, Stringer can't tell the outlaws from the lawmen, but he had better keep both eyes open and his shooting hand ready if he wants to live to tell this tale.

He rode into Gloryville dressed like a Mexican caballero. But the man they called El Cantor was no dandy. He was faster on the draw and quicker with his fists than any man in Gloryville. And El Cantor was willing to do anything to get the prettiest gal in the county.

Slocum was on his way out of town. Then an old debt rode up out of the past looking to be paid. The brother of a man Slocum had out-gunned in a fair fight was hungry for blood. Soon the big southerner was caught in a savage crossfire of hot lead and blood-boiling vengeance.