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Overview
PLAGUE OF THE PAST
Kerk Claymore nervously rolled another cigarette and lit it, clamping his lips around the tiny cylinder. His gray eyes snapped to the window, taking in the mud covered street below.
What was keeping Karen? he wondered anxiously. It was twenty minutes since he’d sent the Mex kid with the note.
He tried to relax, stepping over to the lumpy cot in the corner of the dark room. His large hand picked up the holster where the Colt .45 was snugly resting. For a moment his eyes examined the wooden handle. It was polished, un-marred, new looking; it didn’t reveal the fact that it had killed two men in honest dueling: it gave no hint of this short, bloody life.
Kerk’s fingers pulled the weapon free of the leather and fondly tested the action.
This was his ticket to revenge; oiled, practiced, in perfect condition for this long awaited day. The town owed him a lot, and the highest debt he’d only learned fully about this afternoon. There was revenge for Karen, too.
THE STAND-OFF
It was a moment before Bill Martin recognized the savage cry over the noise of the stage coach. Reflex action brought his hand to the .44 strapped at his side. Years living in the west told him all that was necessary to know. What had started as a return to the West with his new bride was about to become a nightmarish hell. To him this was a natural move back to where he’d been born. Even if California was slightly west of New Mexico. At least it was not Boston!
His eyes darted to the young woman sitting beside him.
Helen hadn’t wanted to come out West with him, and now for the first time he thought maybe it had been a mistake. She had wanted to settle in the town of her birth, raise a family near her father and mother and sisters. Yet, even with that longing desire, she had come with him, because she loved him and because she felt it was the duty of a woman to follow her man, wherever he might take her. To Helen that was almost a Biblical demand. And now, because of that, and his own foolish stubbornness, they might be doomed even before they reached their distant destination. And what was that? A dream, a magnet promising riches, maybe even gold in California. And he was following his dream. Blindly. Foolishly. Stupidly.
THE END OF A TOWN
It was even too dark to see shadows. A blackness that covered Thomson so completely that he couldn’t see his own actions.
But that was all the better.
If only such a blanket of silence was surrounding him too.
It was impossible to keep all sounds from exploding into being. And every noise seemed like a cannon, or gigantic pieces of grainy paper, brushing together.
He knew he was sweating.
If he was discovered now, he’d shatter into a million pieces.
He had to keep his mind on the job.
The job!
That was a laugh! One hell of a laugh!
Kill Widow Jones and make it look good. Do it right and you get completely off the hook, out of debt. And your boy Johnny will live.
Kerk Claymore nervously rolled another cigarette and lit it, clamping his lips around the tiny cylinder. His gray eyes snapped to the window, taking in the mud covered street below.
What was keeping Karen? he wondered anxiously. It was twenty minutes since he’d sent the Mex kid with the note.
He tried to relax, stepping over to the lumpy cot in the corner of the dark room. His large hand picked up the holster where the Colt .45 was snugly resting. For a moment his eyes examined the wooden handle. It was polished, un-marred, new looking; it didn’t reveal the fact that it had killed two men in honest dueling: it gave no hint of this short, bloody life.
Kerk’s fingers pulled the weapon free of the leather and fondly tested the action.
This was his ticket to revenge; oiled, practiced, in perfect condition for this long awaited day. The town owed him a lot, and the highest debt he’d only learned fully about this afternoon. There was revenge for Karen, too.
THE STAND-OFF
It was a moment before Bill Martin recognized the savage cry over the noise of the stage coach. Reflex action brought his hand to the .44 strapped at his side. Years living in the west told him all that was necessary to know. What had started as a return to the West with his new bride was about to become a nightmarish hell. To him this was a natural move back to where he’d been born. Even if California was slightly west of New Mexico. At least it was not Boston!
His eyes darted to the young woman sitting beside him.
Helen hadn’t wanted to come out West with him, and now for the first time he thought maybe it had been a mistake. She had wanted to settle in the town of her birth, raise a family near her father and mother and sisters. Yet, even with that longing desire, she had come with him, because she loved him and because she felt it was the duty of a woman to follow her man, wherever he might take her. To Helen that was almost a Biblical demand. And now, because of that, and his own foolish stubbornness, they might be doomed even before they reached their distant destination. And what was that? A dream, a magnet promising riches, maybe even gold in California. And he was following his dream. Blindly. Foolishly. Stupidly.
THE END OF A TOWN
It was even too dark to see shadows. A blackness that covered Thomson so completely that he couldn’t see his own actions.
But that was all the better.
If only such a blanket of silence was surrounding him too.
It was impossible to keep all sounds from exploding into being. And every noise seemed like a cannon, or gigantic pieces of grainy paper, brushing together.
He knew he was sweating.
If he was discovered now, he’d shatter into a million pieces.
He had to keep his mind on the job.
The job!
That was a laugh! One hell of a laugh!
Kill Widow Jones and make it look good. Do it right and you get completely off the hook, out of debt. And your boy Johnny will live.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940016159294 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | HALDOLEN |
| Publication date: | 12/25/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 248 KB |
About the Author
Charles Nuetzel was born in San Francisco in 1934, and writes:
“As long as I can remember I wanted to be a writer. It was a dream I never thought would materialize. But with the help of Forrest J Ackerman, who became my agent, I managed to finally make it into print.
“I was lucky enough not only in selling my work to publishers but also ending up packaging books for some of them, and finally becoming a ‘publisher’ much like those who had bought my first novels. From there it as a simple leap to editing not only a science-fiction anthology, but also a line of SF books for Powell Sci-Fi back in the 1960s. Throughout these active professional years I had the chance to design some covers and do graphic cover layouts for pocket books & magazines.”
Much of his work in covers and graphics are a result of having had a father who was a professional commercial artist, and who did a number of covers for sci-fi magazines in the 1950s and later for pocket books—even for some of Mr. Nuetzel’s books.
In retirement he has become involved in swing dancing, a long time lover of Big Band jazz. But more interestingly world travels have taken him (and his wife Brigitte) across the world, to Hawaii, Caribbean, Mexico, Kenya, Egypt, Peru, having a lifelong interest in ancient civilizations. His website is full of thousands of pictures taken during these trips.
Check out his website: Haldolen.com
“As long as I can remember I wanted to be a writer. It was a dream I never thought would materialize. But with the help of Forrest J Ackerman, who became my agent, I managed to finally make it into print.
“I was lucky enough not only in selling my work to publishers but also ending up packaging books for some of them, and finally becoming a ‘publisher’ much like those who had bought my first novels. From there it as a simple leap to editing not only a science-fiction anthology, but also a line of SF books for Powell Sci-Fi back in the 1960s. Throughout these active professional years I had the chance to design some covers and do graphic cover layouts for pocket books & magazines.”
Much of his work in covers and graphics are a result of having had a father who was a professional commercial artist, and who did a number of covers for sci-fi magazines in the 1950s and later for pocket books—even for some of Mr. Nuetzel’s books.
In retirement he has become involved in swing dancing, a long time lover of Big Band jazz. But more interestingly world travels have taken him (and his wife Brigitte) across the world, to Hawaii, Caribbean, Mexico, Kenya, Egypt, Peru, having a lifelong interest in ancient civilizations. His website is full of thousands of pictures taken during these trips.
Check out his website: Haldolen.com
From the B&N Reads Blog
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