Western
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The Iron in the Ice
Cassidy Miller, known as Crow to the folks back in the circuit, checked the bolt on her Winchester. The metal was so cold it tried to peel the skin off her thumb. She had five rounds left in the magazine and two in her pocket. That was it. Seven bullets to keep Gabe and Mona…
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Why I Still Dream About the Blood in the Gold Vein
Maren’s hands would not stop shaking. It was not the biting cold of the mountain air or the way the wind ripped through her thin coat. It was the weight of the rifle. She had been a Pinkerton once, the kind of woman who could stare down a train robber without blinking. But that was…
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Why Five Orphans Are Running From The Richest Man In The Mojave
I live in a world of ghosts and bone. The air does not make a sound for me. My ears died in the war when a cannon went off too close. Now, the world is just a series of shakes. I feel the wind on my skin. I feel the horse through my legs. Most…